Faith and Fear

I'm a very analytical person. I analyze problems to figure out the best solution; I analyze good things to see if they can be made better; I analyze myself to try to understand why I do what I do.

The subject of this post relates to the last example. 

I'm 55 years old. I've been through a lot in my life - some very, very good experiences and some very, very, very bad ones with the mundane sprinkled in for kicks and giggles.

I feel like I've analyzed (really - overanalyzed) every single one of them either at the time or years later.

I have realized about myself that when a big problem comes at me, I immediately go into figure-it-out mode. I begin mobilizing. I start working on a plan.  I try to decide my next step. 

At that point, I'm usually not afraid.

It's later - after I've been mobilizing and planning and deciding for hours or even days when the exhaustion hits me and the fear comes at me.

And boy, does it come - with a vengeance.

There will be moments of peace in the middle of this fear. At those times I feel proud of myself and how I've managed to keep calm in the midst of a storm.

But this serenity never lasts long.

To my credit, I assume age and experience have given me a little more resiliency. I've seen God work in my life enough times to occasionally be able to draw from that history and apply it to what I'm dealing with at the moment. 

I'm finally learning that God is the One who gives me peace; I'm not the one who makes it happen.

But the fear never completely stays away. Even while knowing the aforementioned truths, it still always comes back - with a vengeance.

During my teenage years, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) as well as panic disorder. I went through a period of about a year when I was agoraphobic and only left my house for work (a necessity) and church (because it was the one place outside of home where I felt safe). 

So, I'm used to the fear. I'm used to the nerves, the stress, the pressure. 

It doesn't make it any easier to cope whenever it does return - with a vengeance.

For instance, today I received some medical bills that I thought had been taken care of. At the moment, my husband is out of work and I'm trying to make up the slack - but  haven't been able to because of being sick myself while also taking care of a lot of family issues. 

I'm scared - and to add to that, I'm ashamed I'm scared. 

After all, I've seen God do so much in my life with my finances. 

I've been given extra hours at work right before I received a big unknown expense. I've gotten checks from random places, like a refund of an overpayment or the rare child support check, when I didn't have enough for that month's bills. I've been given money without asking around the time my bank balance was incredibly low.

And sometimes these amounts were almost exactly what I needed.

Though I've never been well-off (lower-middle was the highest class I've ever been and at times even that was a far-flung dream), I've always had enough - somehow.

So then why, when I see a few bills, does my heart jump into my throat and I start feeling sick to my stomach? (I guess the stomach issues could be due to physical illnesses I deal with - but I digress.)

I want so much to have faith. I can't even say that I've never seen God work in this way. He has, many times - in my own life.

But...

I...

Don't...

Eventually that fear always comes at me - with a vengeance.

Maybe it's simply a human thing. 

I'm not accusing them of lying, but maybe those who brag about always having great faith, those who constantly say "everything will turn out fine," have simply forgotten the times they too were scared, the times when opening the mail was terrifying, the times they avoided looking at a bank statement or credit card bill as long as possible.

In other words, even though it seems everyone else has this anxiety under control, maybe I'm not the only one who deals with it. 

The fear comes at them too - with a vengeance. 

Most likely everyone struggles with fear - but God is God for anyone who relies on Him.

I'm not alone.

In the meantime, I guess I need to get off this computer and into my analytical mode and figure out how to pay these bills. After all, He doesn't actually write the checks.

(And, oh yeah... I guess it would be a good idea to remind myself who God is and what He has already done while I turn all this over to Him and ask Him to provide as I'm doing so.)

What I Wish I Had Done When I Was First Diagnosed

Receiving a diagnosis of a chronic and/or mental illness is life-altering. It's tough to think about the future, especially if you have had undiagnosed symptoms for a while and have put all your energy into simply surviving each day.

This is true whether the diagnosis is for you or someone you love (as long as that individual is someone who relies on you for even a small part of their care).

As someone who is a partial caregiver for my parents, husband, adult daughter... and myself, there are several things I wish I had made myself do from the time any one of us was first diagnosed.

Sometime in the last decade, I realized what I should have been doing all along - and I started.

Then during COVID, when we were all stuck at home, I continued.

Intrigued?

What I realized was that if I had simply kept up with my medical records on an ongoing basis throughout the years, it would have made it a lot easier now.

I do recognize how hard that is... but trust me, it's very, very worth it.

Currently, I have a document on Google Docs (so that I can access it during an appointment) that lists a lot of the things that are asked when I start seeing a new doctor. I also have one for each of my parents which I print out for them to keep in their wallets.

You might wonder why this is necessary. You might love the doctor you have and simply can't imagine ever going to someone else.

But it will happen - insurance changes, moving, the doctor retiring, a change in the office, and a myriad of other planned and unplanned events that can and most likely will lead to changing or adding doctors at some point.

Of course, this document would look differently for everyone, but this is what I have on mine:

- My legal name and date of birth

- Date of last update

- Social security number, if you feel comfortable doing so

- Health insurance... the company, ID#, and Group #. I also put my vision insurance info and dental insurance info here.

- Primary doctor... name, name of the practice, phone and fax numbers, and the practice's address

- Pharmacy... name, phone number, and address

- Specialists... names of all of my specialists, along with the names of their practices, their specialities and the offices' phone numbers

- Prescription medicines... brand names and generic names, the dosage and frequency, who prescribed it, and why it was prescribed

- Over-the-counter vitamins and supplements (I don't worry about dosage, though there are times it would be nice to have)

- "Not current" list of prescriptions; this is just a time-saver because I've noticed that I might be taken off a med only to try it again later.

- "Things I need to remember"... dates of annual or repetitive tests I need to have done like vaccinations, mammograms, etc

- Surgical procedures... name of the surgery and when, where, and who did it, with the doctor's phone number

The next lists are overkill for most people, but if you have multiple diagnoses, I've found it's much easier to have these written out for those initial appointments and annual updates. 

- Short list of diagnoses

- Short list of major illnesses, like pneumonia and scarlet fever

- Detailed timeline of major illnesses and diagnoses... the name of the diagnosis, year (or date if known) it happened, and a sentence or two about it like what meds were tried or treatments tried

- Summary of family history... each family member, including extended family, with names of their major diagnoses

- Full family history (as much as I can find out)... includes birth and date dates (if applicable) and more details about their health

- Symptoms I deal with... it's pretty obvious, but it's literally a list of all that I deal with

This last part is what I really, really wish I had kept up better. It took going through all kinds of records, including old insurance records, calendars, etc to get as much as I have, but I know it's still not complete. And no, it wasn't just because I'm a perfectionist, I had an incredibly long intake form for one program that asked.

- Medicine history... medicine, dosage (if known), date or approximate date started and stopped, in a timeline by year

- Past doctors... name, name of practice, phone number and dates I used that doctor

- Miscellaneous... I have a copy of the letter I used the last time I needed to find a counselor (again I was asked to do it so I saved it in case I was asked again)

Again, it's really difficult to keep updated when you are dealing with just trying to make it through each day, but from experience, it pays off in the long run.

Do Churches Practice What They Preach?

Many Southern church websites say "Come as you are." 

Yet, when you get there, you see the pastor in a suit (though nowadays usually not with a tie). Those on stage and in the congregation are in business casual attire.

Some are a little more lax. In them, men often wear jeans and not many women wear dresses. Instead, the common attire for women is a dressy outfit - slacks and a really nice shirt.

In my experience, it's rare in most traditional churches, at least in my area of the country, to see women in jeans on Sunday mornings - and I have yet to see a female on stage dressed that casually.

This has been a big deal to me since I was a teenager. I had a friend whose parents didn't attend church. My friend started coming with one of our mutual friends.

She wasn't so poor to the extent she didn't have food or housing, but her clothing options were limited, especially concerning dresses. In fact, she owned only two dresses.

This was almost 40 years ago. Then it was rare to see a woman in slacks at church, much less jeans. 

My friend was embarrassed about not having socially acceptable clothing options for Sunday mornings, so she would attend no more than twice a month. She felt she had to space out wearing her two dresses so others wouldn't notice that she only had two.

I decided then to never go to church in anything but jeans. 

As I entered into early adulthood, I went to a different church, one that was a lot more casual. This was one of the few churches at the time where some women wore jeans. 

The standards changed each Easter. Everyone dressed up on Easter, usually wearing brand-new dresses or suits. 

...except for me. 

I still chose to wear jeans. In my first year attending that church, one of my friends asked if they were at least new. I had to laugh because they were. However, I didn't wear them because they were new; it was a coincidence.

This position was probably a major factor that kept me from serving on the worship team at another church. After I joined that church, I emailed the worship pastor and asked several questions about their music ministry. 

I had noticed that no matter what the congregation wore in this some-men-wear-jeans-but-no-women-do church, those on stage dressed up.

So, my main question concerned whether I could wear jeans if part of the worship team or the choir (where men wore jeans, but women didn't).

He responded quickly and thoroughly to my other questions but didn't address the question about jeans, totally silent about the issue.

I didn't become part of the worship team.

There are several popular arguments about this issue. Even though I don't agree, I can still understand why dressing up is still popular. As the world becomes more casual, some enjoy dressing up and church is one of the few places it's still accepted.

Plus, I assume they can afford it.

But what about those like my childhood friend? How can a church advertise that you can "come as you are" but then look down on those who do? 

Even if they aren't judging, it's nerve-wracking to look different in a new place, especially if it's not by choice but by economics.

When I was young and started on this quest, I often heard the argument: "Don't we want to wear our best when we go into God's house?"

I have sooooo much to say about that, but I'll try to keep it brief.

#1 - God's house isn't a building. It's a person who has accepted Christ.

#2 - Why would God, of Whom scripture says that He doesn't look at the outward parts of man, care what we wear?

#3 - What if "our best" is nice jeans and a T-shirt? What if "our best" is torn jeans (from age, not fashion) and a scraggly shirt?

In summary, I feel strongly that continuing to emphasize what a person wears and how they look at church simply perpetuates the idea that the physical and material aspects of someone are more important than the spiritual - who a person really is.

This thought is the basis of most stigmas... and the church is one place where it should be different.

When Fears are Realized... At Least for Now

One of the main fears I have (excluding all of my phobias and the common fears like having a child die or becoming paralyzed, etc) is not having health insurance - or having it be so expensive that I can't afford the copays.

My husband of almost ten months had said he would never get married before we met - and even the first four years of our relationship. Like me, this wasn't his only fear, but it kept us from taking that next step for a long time. 

He was afraid he wouldn't be able to provide for me.

Well, it ended up that he got fired from the job he had most of our relationship. He had been at that job for a while but a combination of developing an auto-immune disease that would flare up occasionally, a change of management, and having to work from home due to COVID, his performance went downhill.

Then add nervousness about the possibility of being fired and he was a wreck - and continued to do worse.

Even though he had been there 10?, 11? years before this happened, when he finally got the news, he blamed himself. He had been successful all that time but he chalked it up to not trying hard enough.

But this ended up being a good thing. Kind of like my job loss (explained in another post: https://www.spotlightonstigma.com/2023/02/no-longer-afraid.html), he found another job that paid much, much better.

Though it's not the only reason he decided to ask me to marry him, I know that factored in.

As with many couples (or anytime there is more than one person giving an opinion), each of us has a unique perspective on everything. It's easy to assume the other person has the same thoughts and beliefs that you do.

Remember how I mentioned health insurance being one of my biggest fears? Even though I knew I'd marry him no matter what, his health insurance benefits concerned me.

He kept telling me that he had great insurance and though he never verbalized it, that I shouldn't worry about it.

However, when I finally did get the details about the plan, I came close to freaking out. 

Yes, it was a really good policy. Every doctor we wanted to see was covered, the vast majority of prescriptions were covered... all with a pretty low co-pay. 

AFTER we each met the $4000 deductible, that was.

Maybe you are thinking, "That's normal for insurance plans nowadays," but you need to realize that I'm self-employed - and poor. Keep your politics in check with this... I got a really nice plan from Marketplace. Not only did it have a low co-pay and many of my doctors and prescriptions were covered, the deductible was markedly lower than $4000.

Still, I was pretty sure that I would have to have rotator cuff surgery on my other shoulder this fall and that would wipe out the deductible mostly by itself, once you factor in the PT I would need.

So, I went to doctors, therapists, and got tests done like I had before, knowing that it would work out to be not that bad over the course of the year and all I would have done.

Here's the irony: 

First, let me tell you something that I joked about when I was trying to calm myself down about the $4000 deductible... I actually remember thinking, "What if we lose the insurance as soon as we met that deductible?"

Back to the irony.

We did.

He got fired again, literally a week after meeting the deductible. 

In hindsight, he shouldn't have taken a job that was so similar to the one he had been burned out over, even though it did give him a significantly larger income. I could go into my theories on why this really smart man wasn't hacking it at this job, but I won't.

I do know that the new job was killing him, stressing him out incredibly. It wasn't worth it.

In some ways, I'm really glad he got fired because it frees him up to find something that won't be so hard on him. I've had some jobs that I loved and some that I hated, but he and I are alike in that we will almost never leave a job voluntarily, even if it's killing us.

Every...

single...

time...

it's worked out to be much better (not perfect, but better.)

But back to the title of this post - fears being realized. 

On getting the news, his biggest fear - that he can't provide for me - has been realized. (Side note - when I'm strong I remind him that the job didn't provide for us, God does.)

And mine - not having health insurance that I can afford to use - has also been realized. (Side note - we do qualify for Marketplace but between the two of us, though still poor, we aren't as poor as I was alone and the plan has a pretty high deductible for only five months left in the year.)

In the big picture, though, I know that we'll be okay. Each of us has been through worse - and God has been there the whole time.

This time of both of us having to face our fears may seem like a coincidence... but God has it all under control.

...or at least I know He does when I'm strong.

Disappointing Others Due to My Invisible Illnesses... "Should I Stay or Should I Go?"

I'm a people pleaser. It's something I've worked for years to overcome... to no avail. I worry way too much about what people think - even from people who I know love me "no matter what."

This can be a huge issue with my work. I can be so paralyzed with concern about the product - photos or writing - that I'm producing for a client, that sometimes I will edit and edit and edit before I'm done. Or I overthink what I need to do so much that I can't even get started.

This is something that I think pretty much everyone deals with to some extent at some point in life.

When you add an invisible illness to the mix, it makes it much worse.

For example, lately, I've been going back and forth a lot between physical and mental junk (at times both at once). I feel horrible when I have to miss or cancel an event because I know it could disappoint or inconvenience someone else.

The thing is, I am able to attend some of the time. Out of those times I actually make it to an event, sometimes I get there and feel okay. 

Except for the times I don't...

Many of those who have invisible illnesses are great actors. They are wonderful covering up the pain physically or emotionally that they are feeling. They are able to attend work, school, and social events like they weren't in pain.

I'm not. I've even joked that I could never play poker because I can't hide what I'm feeling. I have a very difficult time covering up when I'm in pain or severely depressed or manic. 

Ironically, this trait, though it may be more authentic than acting like everything's okay, causes a lot of problems socially.

It's one of those "I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't" situations.

The background: 

Let's say I'm having a fibromyalgia flare-up. I feel bloated and ache all over. It's hard to walk and any joint or muscle pain that I was already living before the episode is increased. 

Or I'm extremely depressed and have a difficult time getting out of bed. The slightest thing going wrong makes me burst into tears. I often describe it as feeling like I'm swimming in molasses.

The scenario: 

I've been invited to a party with friends I don't get to see very often. I've been looking forward to going for weeks. But then one of the above background issues (or many others I deal with) invades my life.

The disclaimer: 

Remember that I can't go into a social situation and pretend that I'm not hurting. So I'm always caught in a dilemma: Do I stay or do I go? (as said in the popular song by The Clash)

The decision: 

If I stay home, I feel guilty. I feel like I should be there, that I'm a disappointment because the expectation was that I would attend and I didn't - and being reliable was one of my strengths before all this stuff came into my life.

But then sometimes my FOMO (fear of missing out) kicks in and I decide to go.

If I push through and attend, I feel that I'm a disappointment for bringing the fun atmosphere of the party down. I have actually hidden in another room at parties because once I got there, I couldn't deal with the feeling that those near me can't have a good time - because of me.

The aftermath:

No matter which decision I make, I always feel like I should apologize to everyone for being such a disappointment.

My best friends and some of my family understand. I am learning that it helps to explain these kinds of things at the beginning of any relationship. (Note that I only tell those I feel safe with - not my brand new boss or the casual acquaintance who I know makes fun of others behind their backs.)

I don't feel quite as much of a disappointment if I told them what's really going on when I don't show up.

However, there is always someone who doesn't understand - either because I don't know them well enough to tell them or because they didn't believe it, which brings me back to being a people pleaser.

If I wasn't such a people pleaser, I wouldn't care what those who don't know or don't believe... I would simply go on with the knowledge that I'm doing my personal best given my current circumstances.

Therapy and a lot of work in this area have helped, but I feel that this is something I'll struggle with my entire life. 

Only when there are enough of us with invisible illnesses - those who are vulnerable enough to reveal what is actually happening when we check out emotionally or physically - will the world start to be a place where we feel supported, no matter whether we decide to stay or to go.

Reaction to an "I Heart Intelligence" Facebook Post about Choices

I rarely scroll through Facebook posts. I have too many things I can get caught up in... I don't need one that also makes me feel bad because it can portray everyone else as having it all together when my life is most definitely not.

However, today I needed to update some selling I'm doing on Marketplace and I ended up scrolling and reading the top few posts.

I came across this post from "I Heart Intelligence."

 

I have loved "I Heart Intelligence" and their posts for years now. I'd never seen one I disagreed with...

... Until today.

This was my comment on the post:

As someone with several mental and physical chronic illnesses, everything is NOT a choice... 

1 - My husband left me. I tried for a year to get him to counseling and tried everything I could to keep our marriage together. He left anyway. 

2 - I'm obese. However, due to many circumstances out of my control, "getting fit" isn't a choice. I can work out, eat less, and do everything "right" but the weight won't come off. And, no, gastric bypass isn't an option for me. 

3 - I lost my job due to politics and found myself quickly in tremendous debt as I waited to see if I would get it back. I had been "financially disciplined" for years as a single mom with little to no child support with only a teacher's salary and had no debt except for my house and car until that time. Losing my job was not a choice. 

Several years later, a financial advisor told me that it would be best to declare bankruptcy. Though I had always worked hard to pay my debts, after thinking and praying about it, I took his advice. It turned out that what most would call being financially irresponsible was one of the best decisions I've made.

4 - Even what most would take for granted isn't always a choice for me: communication. I have bipolar, type 2. When I'm manic, I can't stop talking. I've tried. I've fought it by literally clenching my jaw. But I still ramble. When I'm severely depressed or in the middle of a panic attack from anxiety, there are times I can't talk at all. I've had to text my boyfriend (now husband) when he was sitting next to me because I couldn't get words out. 

So, no, I can't pick my hard. I can choose to go to therapy, take meds, work out when possible, get my finances back in order as I have the means, work really hard to communicate when I'm not in the middle of the worst of my mental health issues, and continue to try to figure out ways to have the best attitude possible when I don't have choices. 

Personally, I feel like most people can't pick their hard. Sometimes life deals a bad hand - or many bad hands - and the only real choice it comes down to is continuing to fight or giving up completely.

This kind of post simply perpetuates the stigma of these and many other similar places we can find ourselves in. What happens to us isn't always a choice.

So, once again, I personally advise going to the Serenity Prayer...

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

And please, please, please do make the choice to keep fighting.

Highs and Lows... and Expectations, Part 3 - It Is What It Is

Sometimes life throws a curve ball... and you're rooting for the infield team.

Tonight is one of those times. 

There are so many highs and lows in life. Even in the highs, there are lows. Even in the lows, there are highs.

My first post in this series was about a pretty high day - the day we were media as well as VIPs at an Indycar race. However, even though that day was one of my top lately, there were a lot of lows included.

It was hot. I wasn't having a good day physically. There were times I felt stuck at the media center, far away from all of the action. It was an incredibly long day. Etc... Etc... Etc...

My last post was about what I thought would be a really low day - or a few days. But I'll save the details for that post.

However, a totally unexpected high was sent my way - and I wanted to note it in here.

Yesterday, on the way home from another Indycar race (the "low" I wrote about), my husband/photography partner and I were talking about how exhausting the weekend had been. 

Originally, we had planned to make the 10+ hour-long drive home starting tomorrow morning. We talked about possibilities of activities we could do during the day today and nothing sounded better than simply being home. 

Then, I happened to check my email and saw something that literally made my jaw drop. I had to look at it several times to believe it. 

It was an email that said Travis and I had been approved for press credentials for a Cleveland Guardians (formerly Cleveland Indians) game!

Baseball is Travis' love language (with Indycar a close second). His favorite team, by far, is the team from the state where he was born.

From the time he picked up photography, one of his absolute biggest dreams was to shoot a game at their home field.

In the meantime, he moved to Florida, then to Alabama. Visiting his native state happened less and less often and he rarely got to go to see a game live, much less getting to shoot it.

Well, when I started researching how to get credentials for an MLB game, all I found at first is that it's almost impossible to do. I would research for a few hours - then give up. Then I would decide to try again later - and eventually give up. This happened off and on for a couple of months.

Then my work paid off - and I was entered into the MLB credentialing system! That was amazing enough... and though I almost immediately requested credentials for the game that corresponded to when we would already be in Ohio, I really thought it would end there.

I kept up a tiny bit of hope until two days ago. By that point, I assumed that it was too late and that we hadn't gotten in. I even took the game off my calendar and archived my research notes.

So it was a total shock when I saw the email that we were in. My cheeks literally hurt from smiling and Travis was physically stunned. 

This was a definite high. 

However, I never take anything at face value. I just about always assume the worst. And the worst was yet to come. 

The approval email mentioned an email for questions if needed. So I did.

And then...

Then...

I got a reply that called into question whether or not we would actually get in - at least the way I read it the first time.

I know it seems dramatic, but I almost panicked. This was such a big dream of Travis' and I was nervous that the disappointment would really affect him.

I replied with a carefully worded response - and held my breath while I waited for a reply. 

It was one of those good-news/bad-news replies. 

Yes, we were still in. In fact, we had press box access (which is what I like the best).

However, all of the areas for field-level photography were filled. Travis wouldn't get to shoot the game after all. 

We were told that we could shoot at the concourse level, which is about 25 rows back and maybe 10-15 ft high from the field. That's still a lot more than fans get to do since we can bring our professional cameras there, but it's not what Travis had hoped for.

So... now we're here at Progressive Field, looking out of the press box (4th floor - an amazing view), waiting for the fans to be let in and for the game to start.

Is this all we wanted out of this night? Nope. Are we still very glad we're here? H*ll, yeah. 

We get to see things that very few of even the most devoted fans get to see. We get to watch a game live without having to pay for tickets (though the parking expense almost made up for it). We get to say that we did it... got credentialed for an MLB game.

Sometimes it's all about perspective.