The Magical and Dangerous World of Imagination and Fantasy

My dad could tell the best stories when he could be persuaded to tell them. Which wasn't often but was enough for us kids to be hanging on his every word as he wove an epic adventure about "little pea" and his family LONG before veggie tales ever existed. Most of us can say that we were told bedtime stories. Or read a book with our caregiver. A child's imagination is a wonderful and terrible thing. I won't get into a lot of psychological topics or make this really long. But I have something to say about the imainary worlds we create as a child and later as an adult.
In my family of six, I am the third child. We were poor. Everything I owned had been passed to me from my sisters or cousins. I was thrilled when I got new clothes for Christmas because they were all my own. From the outside it looked like I had everything provided for me. Food. Clothing. Toys. But one thing was missing. Unconditional love. I could never do the right thing the right way. I wasn't a boy. I was just the baby sister. On and on went the negativity. I've briefly talked about it before but I was sexually abused as a child. Well, I learned pretty fast that I could escape into a world of my choosing anytime I wanted. At first it was just play. Make believe. And I knew reality from fantasy. But as I kept going further and further into daydreaming, I'd end up dissociating, or losing sense of reality. I don't always remember my childhood. Some good things but mostly the bad. Mostly the longing I had to please my parents. The disappointment when I failed. The stories I told myself. For a time I even convinced myself that I was adopted and my real family was out there waiting for me. I tried to run away a few times. But there was always this thrill of a new story, a new realm to explore. I missed out on a lot because I was present in body but my mind was elsewhere.
I get it. I understand the need to feel in control and safe. But there is an invisible line that I crossed as a child and to this day I struggle with dissociation and wanting to daydream my life away. Thats what happens. Our time is spent in daydreaming or playing fantasy games so much so that the line between reality and fantasy no longer exists. It's dangerous. It is robbing children and adults of precious time when they could be out there living! But there's that pull towards that perfect fantasy.
Depressing isn't it? I don't have the answers for this one topic. But I know that in living a fantasy I'm wasting away my life. And I dont want to anymore.

#tip Grounding. Use grounding techniques like using 5 senses, Observing your surroundings, talking to a friend or relative to keep your mind grounded in reality.

Keeping It Real

In fear of being redundant or overly tragic, I don’t always share about the specifics of my daily dealings with mental illness. I am afraid that people would either get tired of hearing me talk about it or shun me for speaking out about a “silent illness” that is sorely misunderstood. I am afraid that if I shared what I really think and feel, I would simply be told that I am being melodramatic. 

But…

The TRUTH is that the struggles I face daily are just as important and valid as the next person’s struggles.

The REALITY is that I have been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder (aka Emotion Regulation Disorder), Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Unspecified Dissociative Disorder, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

The TRUTH is that these are just labels that explain my thoughts, emotions and behaviors. They don’t tell me who I am, or at least I try to not let them define me…

It has taken me five years and many tears to come to accept that I cannot change my diagnosis. It is what it is. There are ways to cope with it, but not a single way to beat it, save dying and getting that new body and mind God promises. But that realization doesn’t change anything other than the way that I look at my day to day struggle.

One of the ways that people often describe mental illness is as if you are wearing a “happy faced” mask over your “sad faced” countenance. I like that description, not because it shows that people with mental illness are masking their symptoms; and I can relate, but that the MASK CAN BE TAKEN OFF!! That is the hope, that one day; there will be no mask and no sad face.

So, today I am taking my “mask” off and showing the world, my world and those who are in my circles, that I am not defeated. I am not destroyed. I may struggle every minute of every day and night, but in the end, I will rise up and will be made whole.

What does this mean at a practical level? I mean, words are good and all, but where does the rubber meet the road?

It means that I am going to be more open with sharing how I am really thinking and feeling.

It means that I am going to be more open to talking about my past and the reasons why I have these diagnoses. (so, if you have questions, ask away)

It means that I am going to share with others the tools I have learned to get me where I am today.

It means that I am no longer going to lay down one my bed in defeat; but am going to use every coping skill, distraction skill, truth statement in my arsenal to keep going.

It means a change of thought, an hourly choice to say, I AM OK.

And then I think about you, all you wonderful people who have been supportive of me, and have watched me thru the years, and I am overwhelmed with gratitude. You have prayed for me, listened to me, laughed and cried with me. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. And I am forever in your debt. Thank you.

#TIP  When dealing with pesky thoughts, keep your mind occupied. Read a book. Reading is one way to actively involve both the mind and heart. Find something that you enjoy and can learn from, while getting pulled into the story.

REAL

Note: Picture taken from pexels...free stock images

I want what is real. I want what lasts. I don’t want to be distracted by things that don’t matter as much as eternity. I am jaded by this world and its shenanigans. I am numb to the pain around me; all I see is my tragedies. I can’t reach out to  help because I can’t even help myself, or so I tell myself. I am quiet when I want to scream. I live when I should die to self. I am so full of questions that I don’t know where to begin. That little bit of courage that I found is real. It calls me to open up and breathe in spite of the suffocation I am living. Where can I turn? Who do I call out to? A god who is blind, deaf, and dumb to the hard things of my life? I realize now that I made that god me. I fashioned its form out of my desperation and fear, hoping that it would mean I would belong to something, someone.  I feel as though I was cheated out of my life. I was told lies from birth and expected to just believe them. But I can’t anymore. I can’t look myself in the mirror and forget the hollowness in my eyes. I am the one caught between heaven and hell. Where do I go?

I am sitting here with my heart heavy and my eyes running with the unshed tears that I have held back so many times before. Nothing has changed. I still need a miracle. I still need peace. The lies surrounding me give me grief. They pester and bother me until I am back at the exact point I was a few minutes ago. I want what is real, not an illusion. Not smoke. I want something, someone who will be forever.  I want to wake up in the morning with a smile because I know I am loved. I want the beliefs that I believe to be true. IS there a God? Does He even CARE? And what does He want for my life? So many questions go unanswered. I sit here and wonder if I believe because I have encountered God or do I believe because I have just been taught that there is a God? DO I BELIEVE? DO I BELIEVE?

I realize that there are things in my life that cannot change unless He reaches out to me. What if He’s been standing with His arm outstretched and I have been knowingly blind? Do I get another chance? Can I change the way that my programed mind thinks? Can I take flight with my soul in His Truth?

I can’t see the sky right in this moment, but I imagine it to be blue and full of freedom. Jesus gives that freedom, some say. DO I BELIEVE? Oh how I want my eyes to be opened and my heart to receive the love that God professes. No strings attached, no manipulation, no holding back.  Love that covers every part of me until nothing of me remains. I want to die the death of self so that I can live the life of Him. But how? How do I let go of the past to embrace the future? Do I even need to let go? Do I really need to forget? I want to be able to remember without the onset of pain. I want to look back and say that I am stronger than back then. I want to be able to forgive in the blink of an eye. Will I ever learn?

I build an altar in my mind and lay it’s foundations with my sins and fears. I cement it together with the all of the tears that I have never cried and those that have been shed in desperation. I take my hopes and dreams and write them down placing the paper on top of the structure. I then take the final piece, my Self, the very essence of who I am and hold it out.  It is twisted and dark, crimson and broken.  It is sad and joy mixed with disappointment and pride and hope. I place my Self up on the top of the altar where it can be seen clearly as it is. Kneeling before the altar, my head falls down and I bow, broken. I stay there for minutes, hours, it doesn’t matter. My head says this is dumb, but my heart says it is worth it. There was nothing to see, nothing to hold onto, it is just me completely exposed. Completely humble. Completely desperate.

Then I felt it. A tiny breath of wind moves my hair as I knelt on the ground before the altar. I raise my head and see.  Light. The Light that blinds stretching from heaven, down onto my altar. I hold out my hand marveling at the purity of the Light. I pull my hand back and my hand still glows. Before I could say a word, let alone think, the burst of light explodes on the altar and burns brighter than a thousand suns. I cover my eyes in pain, but can’t help but keep looking at the Light. It beckons to me. It comforts me. I watch as my altar is consumed by the Light and then I feel it again, a swirling breeze that wraps its arms around me. I breathe in and feel Love envelope me. I am caught up in the whirlwind and am floating freely, unhindered, and untethered. Is this real? Is this truth? I don’t care anymore. All I want is to feel these feelings of wonder and hope. I want everything to pause while I bask in the Light and wind that surrounds me. I can’t think yet I am thinking clearer than ever before. I feel the pains still, but I see now that they serve a purpose to show me how to thrive. The wind sets me down gently and I look at where the altar stood. Nothing remained, not even ashes. The wind still swirls around me and I breathe deeply. There is the scent of joy and peace filling my nostrils. I feel the wind speak to me. It speaks of an everlasting covenant, I will never be alone anymore. It tells me that I am ok, that I am loved. I close my eyes and feel. Truly feel. The weight of the world is no longer there. The fear of inadequacy is no longer hanging on my back. Moving my arms and legs in a little dance I laugh out loud. The sound echoes deep inside of me. I cry. I cry in awe of this miracle that happened to me. Stepping into the Light, I feel the rays burning away the remains of my burdens. Insecurity, depression, perfectionism and doubt fall away into nothing. I look at my hands, they look the same, but my veins are golden. I look at the rest of me and see that the very core of who I am, my heart is pumping loudly, golden and bright. I have been completely transformed. I have been completely restored. The past no longer has a hold. The present no longer has me in fear’s grip. But the future, it looks like a tunnel with a Light at the end. Some people say that’s what death is like. Maybe so, but I want to live in this moment. I feel peace and kindness surround me, pulling me to the tunnel. I take one step then two, and then break into a run. I meet Jesus at the edge of the tunnel and He puts His arm around me just as I looked back. There is nothing there. Nothing to hold me back, nothing to tie me down. Jesus hugs me and looks into my eyes. I feel safe. I feel hope. I think of nothing but the present moment.  Jesus beckons me to step out of the tunnel. I knew what He wanted. I want the same thing. It is time for me to live life in the Light of His Love and Grace. It is time for me to go back to the world and bring others to the Light. I step out of the tunnel and into Life. I am now the Living Dead, for I died to my self and have been renewed. I have come thru the fire and have been filled with His Spirit. I have been made whole.