What Can Churches Do about the Chasm between the "Haves" and "Have-Nots"?

This morning I was reminded about a women's retreat that happened last fall. I meant to post about it then, but just realized I never did. This retreat raised a question I've thought about for years.

It's a universal question, not only about the church, but I feel those of faith should do a better job with it than those outside of it.

Spoiler alert - I don't have the answer. No one I've ever talked to about it has the answer. I do know this at least... it's something that's decided on a case-by-case basis.

Unfortunately the decision is often in favor of the "haves" (and I'm a have-not 😔).

Let me tell you more about the retreat. Our church had been planning it for months, so when the following occurred, it wasn't a surprise. However, I thought I had a shoot that weekend so when they would talk about it during the Sunday morning service, I tuned out. I couldn't go so the details didn't matter.

(To be honest, in some ways I was glad I didn't have to make the decision on going or not because my social anxiety still runs rampant in my life and there was a part of me that was nervous about taking the plunge.)

Anyway, about a week before the ladies were leaving for the retreat, I realized that the shoot had been rescheduled and I had forgotten to take it off my calendar. Because I was brave at the moment, I decided to try to go. The deadline had passed for registration but I assumed (correctly) that there was still space.

Keep in mind that at this time I was still relatively new to this church. I had gotten to know a few people, but none very well. I would be going to the retreat with a bunch of strangers, but I was desperate for friends. I knew that if I made the leap to go, I might make a friend or two - and even if I didn't, I would at least hopefully feel more a part of the church.

So, I reached out to the one who was in charge about possibly going. I was right - she said there were spots available. She was excited about me going and at this point, I was excited too.

Then I told her that I couldn't afford it. As my husband and I both freelance, our income is tied to our work. We weren't even making the bills with the business, much less had enough extra to spend "only" $300 for something that wasn't necessary.

Our church isn't rich but most members have more than enough. I really thought that there would be scholarships available. When the women's leader mentioned that someone had pulled out but didn't ask for a refund for her registration, she excitedly told me that it would "only" be $200. 

I was devastated. $200 was as far out of reach as $5000. I argued with the retreat leader about the topic of this post (for which I'm ashamed about now), but it again brought up something I've wondered about since I was young...

When I was a teen, I had a friend who only came to church one or two times a month because she only had two dresses and didn't want everyone to know. That made a huge impression on me and I never forgot it. In fact, I decided to boycott dresses for church as soon as I was old enough to go to a church on my own because of that situation.

Back to present day - to get over the hurt about not being able to afford to go, I told myself that it would have been hard anyway due to the social anxiety issue. Honestly, though, the hurt lingered for a long time even with my efforts to push it away.

This brings me back to my title question... what can we do about this issue? If you are a "have," you might not have even realized that we "have-nots" have had issues with times like the following (all of which I've experienced multiple times while going to many different churches):

- not having "church clothes" and so we feel like we can't go as often or participate as fully as others (one church I went to didn't allow jeans on stage - and since that's all I had at the time, I couldn't even think about becoming part of the worship team),

- not being able to go out to eat with others after church (an important time to really get to know people in many churches) because restaurants just aren't in the budget, 

- not having enough extra to participate in activities like retreats or church outings that cost money (and this happens a lot),

- not being able to afford buying a book or other needed supplies for a church group's book study,

- not having something like an iPad, which I needed to be on the worship team on my current church (I'm old-school and just print out my music but when something changes and I see those with iPads, fix it easily, it still hurts),

- not participating in get-togethers like small groups (often in the evening) or women's groups (often during the day) because of needing to work, 

- not having enough for your child to participate in activities like basketball, 

- not even not having the gas money to go to anything beyond the main church service (or sometimes even the Sunday morning service).

I understand both sides. The majority of the "haves" often worked really hard for what they have. I can see them justifying not helping those who don't.

But, on the other hand, the "have-nots" also often work hard. Circumstances or poor choices can land someone in major financial difficuties - situations that can take years to get out of, if they ever can. 

I try not to expect that scholarships are available for activities like a retreat, but I always hope they are - and am very grateful when it's an option. There are so many great experiences I've gotten to do because of the generousity of others.

However, should I expect that generousity? Isn't that one of the early ways that the early church showed that they were the church? At the end of Acts 2, the Bible talks about how they shared everything. Those who had more than enough - the "haves" - sold their excess and gave it to those who didn't - the "have nots." 

I know this wasn't the only factor that led to the last verse in the chapter, but I can't help but think it had a part - that more and more were being saved and added to the church daily. 

So... is it really hard like I started saying at the beginning of this post? Or is it really simple? If you have more than enough, give to those who don't. Period. 

Something I'll continue to think about...

What if Churches Were More Like Support Groups?

For probably a decade, I was a "none" - a person who was still a Christian but had given up on church. I was tired of being hurt. I was tired of the hypocracy. I was especially tired of being "welcomed, but not accepted."

Though I felt in my heart that there were churches out there who were different, I couldn't find one and didn't have the drive to try. 

Then I discovered I am an addict. When I found a support group for my addiction and began attending, I noticed something very enlightening.

I was fully accepted - even though I had messed up royally in my life, even though I am an addict, even though I am very, very far from having it all together.

I had found my people.

The best thing about it is that the majority in my group are Christians, or at least seem to be. Their Higher Power is God, as is mine. Though we don't talk about the Bible, we often talk about principles that are faith-based. 

This group of messed up, broken addicts became my church.

I have learned so much about God through them. We quote the Serenity Prayer each week at the end of the meeting and add, "May Your will be done in our lives. Amen." The necessity and power of surrender is a recurring theme, as is making amends (asking for forgiveness.)

In other words, we talk about many of the main themes of the Bible, though not the salvation of Christ. Of course, Jesus and what He did is the most important aspect of Christianity, but my personal feeling is that church is more for the saved, so they can go out and share about Christ. 

To that end, group was that encouragement for me for years - helping the members apply the principles of Christianity so that we are in the right mindset to serve others, even non-Christians.

About six months ago, I actually found a church that is what I had hoped for - one that not only welcomes but accepts everyone. But group is still where I know I can be completely transparent, without fear of judgment or being looked down upon.

I still sometimes wish all churches were a little more like group. Here are some of the ways...

- In group, we don't have a dedicated leader. Anyone can participate in the readings, even if it's someone's first time. Anyone can share. There are what we call "old-timers" who have had sobriety the longest. They might help behind the scenes more than the newbies, but when it comes to group time, everyone is equal.

- We share honestly and authentically, often about things that literally no-one else knows about. Before I shared about losing my teaching license in group, I had only told maybe five of my closest and most trusted friends about it. Other than my parents and daugher, no one in my family even knew.

But because others had shared the horrible things that had happened because of what they had done, I knew I was safe to share it with them. They understood - and no one judged me.

- Everyone has a chance to share. Unless it's a special program or dedicated night, like the 5th week, there's never a speaker. Even when there is, it's almost always someone who is simply sharing his/her experience, strength and hope. It's not someone telling the rest what to do. There's a great deal of autonomy and working with others, usually one-on-one - called a sponsor/sponse relationship - who have been there.

- It's common for members to reach out to others during the week - for accountability, help, advice, and to help them keep from "acting out," as its called in our addiction. That kind of thing doesn't happen in church, at least in my experience. 

In church, you make friends who might help you follow the teachings of Christ or give advice on what to do when you mess up. But if your friends are busy, you are stuck. With group, we can just go to the next person in on the contact list because if your name is on the list, you are willing to take a call anytime.

- Everyone has heard of the "Twelve Steps." Those are the steps that many addicts take to get sober. But what's not often talked about is that the steps are much more than a way to sobriety. It's a way to God, if God is your Higher Power. It's a methodical approach to learn how to surrender, to forgive, and to serve.

I'll add the steps to the end of this post for those who have never seen them. One thing we make sure that new members of group know about the steps is that each one is as important as the rest - and that there's a reason they're in the order they are. Each is a foundation for the next one.

- Many support groups use a token system. They are to mark days, months, and years of sobriety. Unlike the above points, I don't advocate that churches give out tokens for years of being a Christian or for the months that someone has served. 

But I do like the emphasis on focusing on the work you do within yourself instead of external factors such as the number of members or the amount given to missions. A church with more resources is going to attract more people, increasing the membership. Churches in a higher socioeconomic area are always going to have more money for missions. 

This emphasis increases pressure on the little churches who might not have much that they should do more, instead of focusing on growing the Christ-followers who are there. Focusing on numbers instead of what's going on in hearts is toxic to the church as a whole, in my humble opinion.

To sum up, I love my current church but I would have never been open to coming here if it hadn't been for my support group. They showed me that unconditional acceptance is possible and that even a bunch of addicts can learn how to rely on a Higher Power - who in my case and many others, is God. 

Finally, as promised, here are the Twelve Steps. I'm including those from AA, as that's where they started and are the most well-known. Keep in mind that other addictions use these but adapt them to their specific needs.

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol — that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

Chronic Pain is Exhausting - and It's No Joke

It's a given that chronic pain is, um, painful, but until you live with it, you don't realize one huge side effect.

Chronic pain is exhausting.

The effort it takes to do everyday tasks when you are hurting is immense. Nothing and nowhere is comfortable, even bed. Even if the pain lessens or goes away in one area, often it then pops up in another.

Indulge me for a minute to let me tell you about a few hours of my life with chronic pain. 

Yesterday I did too much. I had several activities I needed to attend and, though there's technically always a choice about going or not going to anything, I felt in each case it was important to go.

Something I forgot to mention is that dealing with chronic pain is also a mind-game. Your body never gives you a heads-up on when you will have good days, bad days, or oh...my...gosh days. 

The day before yesterday was a pretty good day. Some activities were painful but overall, I made it through the day being able to do everything I planned (always a really good thing for someone in this boat). 

This definitely helped cause the doing-too-much yesterday. 

When I woke up, I assumed it would be like the day before. I planned my agenda for the day based on the day before. And, at first, I felt like I did the day before.

Until I didn't.

It really didn't start until later in the afternoon. The pain was more of a standard day's level than a really bad day. So, I went into my last activity of the day, the most important to actually attend, with pretty high hopes that it wouldn't end as an oh-my-gosh day. 

I was wrong.

It gradually got worse through the evening. I began to make accommodations - sitting whenever I could, stretching out the sore places when appropriate, walking around for relief a couple of times. 

When the event went longer than planned, I finally had to ask if I could go ahead and leave. I hurt so badly and it was almost over anyway. My request was granted and I left.

I hoped that hitting the bed would help. For a minute, it did. I felt blessed relief from hurting.

Until I didn't.

I fell asleep almost immediately and woke up about an hour later. But when I woke up - OH-MY-GOSH. It was so bad! It also triggered my RLS (restless leg syndrome), which just added to the fun.

My husband slathered pain relief cream where it hurt. He massaged the areas, using his fist not just his hands. I took RLS meds and more ibuprofen. A last ditch effort included adding our extra large heating pad turned up almost to the max. 

All that still didn't work.

I finally gave up and decided to take a hot bath, complete with lots of Epsom salt. You would think that would be a first line of defense - but the problem is that my bedroom is at the top of a long flight of stairs and the bathroom is at the bottom. Needless to say, when I am in that much pain, stairs are another joy.

Getting up them to go to bed is hard enough. But even knowing the trip down could mean sweet relief, it means a necessary trip up to go back to bed, a real nightmare if said relief was elusive.  

Thankfully, this worked. The hot bath, the Epsom salt, and the meds I had taken combined to make me feel a little bit normal (until I started up the stairs, that is). Though still in some pain when I crawled back under the covers, I was able to get back to sleep fairly quickly.

The next morning, though, the relief was gone... the pain was back in full force. Plus, even though I knew I slept most of the rest of the night, it wasn't good sleep. I kept nodding off throughout the day. 

I joked with my husband that everything hurt. Then I amended it and joked that everything hurt except this pinkie finger, gesturing to my left hand.

The joke was on me when I touched it to prove my point and it, too, hurt. The top of my pinkie finger actually hurt when I pressed lightly on it! 

Things that many would find to be relief could be the opposite for those with chronic pain. For instance - showers. A shower for a neurotypical could be the most relaxing and invigorating part of the day.

For a chronic pain survivor, a shower can be very painful. This is one reason showers might be avoided. It's not that the person is unhygenic or lazy. It's physically and emotionally a huge issue to take a simple shower.

I won't go into the same detail as before, but the emotional toll is almost as bad as the physical. Like I mentioned before, there's an element of not knowing that adds to the intensity of the issue. 

For example, it's possible to feel relatively pain-free (there's never a moment without any pain) for a week. So, your brain says, "This is going well. Let's plan a few things for this next week that have been put off over and over because of being in pain."

Then your body says, "Nope! Fooled ya!" Though it's always possible to go that entire next week at the same level as the week before, it's also possible that you are in the worst pain of your life at times during that week.

You never know.

It makes planning for the future extra difficult. I'm a photographer and writer. If only I had a crystal ball that could tell me what days I was going to be in pain, then I could plan when I'm going to do a shoot or when I need to have plenty of time to rest. 

But life's not that way. I never know. 

In addition, what another person might think would be a way to get away from the pain isn't always. I have back issues, which radiate down. This means sitting can hurt as much or more than standing. So working on editing photos or writing an article at my desk could be worse than being up taking photos at an event.

But I never know before which will be worse. I can't change the shoot to a different day just because I'm hurting. I can sometimes put off writing but if I'm on a deadline I can't.

It's just something I have to deal with.

The point of this post wasn't to whine and to make you feel sorry for me and my fellow chronic pain survivors. The point was to make you aware that sometimes a person can look fine on the outside but they are fighting back tears. Sometimes a person might need to stand up during a group activity because sitting one... more... second in that chair was excruciating. There are times when a person sincerely planned to go to a party but had to cancel at the last minute and if you looked at them, they looked fine - but they really weren't.

So pain-free citizens, please don't look down on those who deal with chronic pain. Don't think they are faking it or are trying to get out of doing something. These individuals are some of the strongest, bravest, hardest working people I've ever seen. Recognize that - and know that who they are is much more than what they do.

New Year's 2025 Musings

It's over a quarter of a century into 2025. I'm over two quarters of a century old. And boy, today, do I feel it.

New Year's Day is one of those holidays that often involves a lot of fun and relaxation. The major stresses of the holidays are over (except undecorating!) and many are off work. Watching football is the main activity for a good majority of the US. New Year's resolutions are now in effect, and though some may be broken before the day is over, there's still a lot of hope that this will be the year of positive changes.

But not for me... not this New Year's Day. I haven't felt this much of a loss of purpose, a loss of hope, in a very long time. As you know if you read this blog, I deal with bipolar, type 2, so depression is not just circumstantial. It's very much a chemical thing that can't be ignored, with medication, therapy and the support of others to keep going.

Let's talk about those ways I've used to cope with mental health issues...

We'll start with my therapy... A few months ago, my therapist said I was doing well and though I could come back anytime I needed her, I had met my goals and no longer needed to come regularly to sessions. I was surprised at what she said. I really thought that I would be in therapy once or twice a month the rest of my life.

However, don't think that because I was doing well in therapy meant that life suddenly became a bed of roses. (Whoever came up with that phrase, anyway? What about the dang thorns?!) It just meant that I was using the coping methods we had worked on in order to be okay whatever happened. 

So, let me reiterate - I didn't stop therapy because I stopped being depressed. I wish that was the reason. Maybe I need to go back but honestly I don't think it would change much. I feel my problem is much more intrinsic.

Okay... medication. Maybe I need to up the dosage on my meds. They seemed to be working well at taming the rapid mood swings I faced without them. But, looking back, maybe they weren't doing as well as I thought. 

Any changes with psych meds can be scary, though. For bipolar, successfully treating the depression can lead to increased mania. Treating the mania, can lead to more depression. It's a fine line - and the side effects of most psych meds are no joke on top of that - so going up or adding new ones has several risks.

Support... I have the support of lots of friends and some family. But they all have their own lives and their own issues. Being part of the sandwich generation, many friends my age are like me - helping their parents while their children are still somewhat needy. They are helpful but I can't rely on them as much as I wish I could. 

So, looking back at 2024, it was a dumpster fire. Wait - that's not a good metaphor. A dumpster fire may be a huge deal and can lead to other fires and the destruction of a lot, but eventually it burns out. 

I guess in a way, it fits. There was an end to 2024. The fire never went out, but the year did. 

2024 was a year of struggle, of loss, of rethinking what I should be doing with my life. In Dec 2023, my dad died. Because my husband and I live with my parents (well, now my mom), the first three or four months of 2024 were spent being there for my mother, helping her go through dad's things, helping sort paperwork that dad had all over the house (he had some dementia at the end). I have three brothers who helped some, but they were working and had their own families. They couldn't be here much to help with all the little things that a death involves.

Not long before dad died, my husband was fired. His original position had been eliminated and the one they moved him to wasn't a good fit. Being uncharacteristically optimistic, I thought it would be a good idea for him to join me in my business. There wasn't enough work for both of us, but there was more than I could handle, especially since I needed to be available a lot more for my mom than the previous year.

Having him home was a Godsend in many ways. We were able to share the paid work - my writing and our photography - and though we never had any extra, we made it. I thought we could start getting more work since there were two of us doing it full-time, but it never happened. In fact, the opposite happened.

Starting last summer, I think, work, especially photography, opportunities began drying up. We would get some amazing leads and then were ghosted. Great ideas we had never panned out. As the "owner," I kept butting my head against a wall, trying to figure out what was going on and how I could fix it.

We decided to give it six months and if it business didn't start picking up, then he would look for a regular job while I tried to make the business work solo. 

Well, the six months has come and gone. As you can probably guess, it didn't happen. But neither did a job. Things kept getting in the way - equipment problems that took a lot of time (and money) to fix, sickness, injuries, some amazing travel opportunities that we just couldn't pass up, family issues...

It was easy to say that "next week" we would work on it, knowing that though the money we had in savings that we had set aside just for this time of trying to make the business work for both of us, along with the current amount of work, was enough for the time being. It wouldn't last long, but we thought we had a few more months before we really had to act.

My husband, who did car appraisal work (photos only), had been making a good bit each month. In Oct, it had gone down to 10 jobs - not a lot, but that much still helped pay the bills. In November and December, he had 3 each month.

Then, another slam. The main client that I wrote for, where the majority of my monthly income was based, changed their format. My work has been cut to probably a 5th of what it was before. 

But the biggest problem, the main reason I'm writing now, is that I feel defeated. I've worked making this business successful for over 7 years now. I really thought that by now, I would be figuring things out. The future seemed bright. 

There are few things that hurt as much as your business, your passion of over 7 years, slowly failing and knowing you might not be able to stop it.

My last post was about my friend, sponsor and mentor, Jack. Going back to "support," he was my biggest cheerleader. Every time I had a success or failure in the business, I could go to him with all of the joys of success, as well as having him help me problem-solve the failures. He helped me more than I realized - until now. I miss him incredibly.

There are few things that hurt as much as one of your best friends dying and knowing you may never have someone else who can fill that void.

On top of this, my mom is doing horribly. She broke a vertebrae in her back and the surgery she had to fix it has apparently caused a break in another vertebrae below it. She's in incredible pain. She came to me this morning asking about a back brace she found online. I had to tell her that I don't think it'll help. I told her we needed to wait to go back to the doctor to see if there's anything they can do.

There are few things that hurt as much as your mom being in pain and knowing you can't help.

And on top of that, my daughter needs to move and she has no where to go. Due to some pretty major mental and physical issues, she hasn't been able to work much at all the past few years. She's finally getting better but still can't work full-time. She calls me crying that she needs to get out of her current living situation and I don't know how to help. We don't have room for her here (though we'll make room if we have to) and have no idea where she can go. 

There are few things that hurt as much as your child being hurting and knowing you can't fix it.

Depression has been part of my life as long as I can remember. It hasn't been constant, but it's always been in the background, waiting to rear its ugly head when I least expect it. As I said earlier, my depression isn't solely due to circumstances, and the circumstances I've been dealing with and am still dealing with are no joke. But they aren't the whole problem.

This depression is different. I usually say that depression is like swimming in a pool of molasses. Right now I feel like I'm swimming in a pool of molasses with a rock tied to my foot and wearing blacked-out googles - that no matter what I do, I can't see the wall that leads to getting out of the pool and even if I could, I don't have the energy to pull that rock to make it to the wall. 

So, for all of you who are having a joyful, fun-filled, hope-ridden New Year's Day, I'm glad for you (and I don't mean that sarcastically). Be thankful. 

If you're like me and having a really rough start to the new year, know that you aren't alone.

As of writing this sentence, it's 10:18 AM on January 1, 2025. There's around 10-12 hours left in the day before I go to bed. Maybe, just maybe, something will change before the day's even done.

However, even though it might not be today - and it might not be tomorrow. It might not even be within the week or within the month. 

But if we all keep going, even if we don't feel like it, there's always hope.

Dear Jack

It's been just over 2 weeks since he died, but it seems much longer because I wasn't able to talk to him the last couple of months he was alive. 

Jack - my sponsor, mentor, officiant of my wedding, and best friend - isn't here any more.

I've missed him incredibly and today that feeling was increased a thousand-fold.

Jack was my biggest encourager of my work. He's the first one (other than family) who really believed in me and both my photography and writing skills. He gave me advice when I asked but didn't continually critique my work. He told me stories of his own professional experience and others he knew in similar fields.

But mostly, Jack listened to me. He was the one I could always call when I was having a bad day or something was really going wrong. 

I can't remember when we first shared the phrase "the sh*t-truck just dumped another load in my driveway," but it became an ongoing joke as well as a phrase I would use if my call was an SOS.

The first time I had fun with this phrase was to give him a note that a family in a 3rd world country was going to get a gift of manure in his name. Now, that sounds like a joke in itself, but it's really a prized gift for a family doing trying to make a living through gardening. This was a legit Christmas present through an organization who helps feed families in 3rd world countries and give them the skills for jobs.

But the main time it was used was when I had a setback with my freelance business or my mental health (anxiety/depression/hypomania) got in the way of living life. I would call and I just had to say that the truck was back, and he knew where I was and how he could help.

Well, today was the first time that truck has dropped off a load since he's been gone. My tears for what happened weren't that extreme until I realized I couldn't call and talk to him about it... ever again.

Today has been a rough day, to say the least. I'm still reeling from the news I got and exhausted from the crying I've done so I'll make this short. My plan is to come back here and share things about him as I remember them, but as it's hard to keep up with this blog as it is, no promises.

But for now, I just want to say to him once again what I always said before leaving an in-person meeting or hanging up the phone: "Love you, big brother." (And I will always miss you!!!!)

It's the Holidays Again

Today is December 1, 2024. 

Thanksgiving was this past week. After an almost-full-blown panic attack, I made it to my family gathering and did okay. Otherwise, this week hasn't been that eventful. Work is slim this time of year so at least I didn't have a lot of commitments I had to fulfill. I'm thankful because I also wasn't feeling well.

Part of the reason I wasn't feeling well was that this past Sunday morning my sponsor, mentor, and one of my best friends, Jack, passed away. I knew he was in the hospital but he didn't want any visitors so he wouldn't tell me where he was. He quickly became too weak to talk or text though I was pretty sure he wouldn't make it, when I got a voicemail from his brother-in-law, it was still a shock. I've been crying off and on all week. I miss him terribly.

That loss, combined with the upcoming holidays (with very, very limited resources and energy for gifts, decorating, and Christmas activities), my back getting worse, my mom's own back surgery not having worked, my depression deepening, my left eardrum bursting for the 4th time in the last few months, and my husband's auto-immune disorder really acting up... I'm not in a great place right now. Oh - and in two days will be the first anniversary of my dad dying.

What gets me more than anything is that I'm supposed to feel happy this time of year. At this moment, I'm sitting at church during the before-service worship team practice where my husband is playing percussion. It's not practical due to distance to take separate cars, so I almost always come with him, even though I then have about 2 hours to kill early on Sunday morning.

I had been out of town for several Sundays and wasn't feeling well last Sunday so I didn't go (which actually worked out well because I would have been a basket case if I heard the news about Jack's passing while at church).

Upon arrival today, I saw the church full of Christmas trees and decorations. The worship team is practicing Christmas songs along with some of the regular worship songs. Most people would absolutely love having this before-church time to sit here and enjoy the beautiful surroundings and music.

But not me.

All I want to do is cry - and the hidden pressure to be really happy just makes it worse. I don't know how I'll make it through worship (the singing part) this morning because I'm so down. I'm scared that the wall that was being torn down around my heart about worship is being built again - but I seem powerless to stop it.

I was starting to really lose it when I realized I needed to write and get it all out (thus this post).

Anyway, I'm sorry that this is such a downer. I wrote it because it's one of the best ways for me process my feelings. However, I'm posting it here to let others know that if they aren't feeling happy or joyous about the holidays - you aren't alone. 

But even as I wrote the last paragraph, I'm reminded about my Thanksgiving experience. The morning of Thanksgiving, I was really stressed and overwhelmed. I decided I couldn't deal with the family, planning to instead eat Chinese buffet by myself. But by the afternoon, I was doing better and I not only went, but had a pretty good time. 

So keep in mind that circumstances and moods can change. Just because you feel horrible this hour, or day, or week, doesn't mean it'll last all month. 

One more thing... Go back and find where I wrote the phrase "powerless to stop it." Yes, I am powerless. Recognizing this is the first step in any addiction recovery program - and I'm sure it works in this case too. I'm powerless concerning so much of my life, which is why I have to rely on a higher power (in my case, God). 

I'll try to keep these things in mind along with you - as we all face the Christmas season of 2024. Just like so many Christmas seasons I've dreaded in the past, January WILL come - with all of its own issues, hurts, disappointments... and good times. Nothing is all good but nothing is all bad. 

We can make it through whatever we're facing. Just take the next right step (another addition recovery statement).

Whatever we do, we have to just keep going.

(For a funny post about a past Thanksgiving, go to https://www.spotlightonstigma.com/2019/08/ah-family-trigger-warning-suicide.html)

Perspective Shift on Homelessness

(Before I start, I want you to know that I do realize there's a better way to refer to the homeless now, but, for the life of me, I can't remember what it is. I'll update this if I ever think of it.)

There is a lot of controversy over what to do about the homeless population. Some say to not give them money because it just fuels their addictions. Others say that it's the Christian thing to do - to help those in need.

I have been torn between the two - at times doing one and sometimes the other.

But there's nothing like having a situation like this get personal for it to change your perspective...

One of my nephews has a few mental health issues - the kind that make living a typical life almost impossible. He's incredibly smart and had an incredible future ahead of him before all this happened. 

He had an episode before he was diagnosed where he was violent. This kid (I still think that though he's almost 30) is one of the most tranquil, laid-back individuals I've ever known. It was definitely his disease that made him act up like he did.

But his family (yes - my extended family) didn't understand. They wanted him to "snap out of it" and to get a job so he could get his life together. His mom kicked him out of her house. At the time, with therapy, medication, and government help, he was able to get an apartment and a job.

Though it wasn't easy - he had to walk and take the bus to and from work in Maine in the winter - he was able to keep going.

Until he wasn't.

Psych meds are some of the worst to manage. They usually have truly awful side effects so it's so tempting to stop taking them when a person starts to feel better. Or they stop working after a while. It often takes 6-8 weeks - or more - for them to even start working so it's a loooooong process to find a new one when needed.

I went through that merry-go-round with anti-depressants. I tried almost everything, alone or in combination, over several years. Nothing worked. I found out later it was because I was misdiagnosed and actually had bipolar disorder, which is another issue with these meds - and this field of medicine.

Well, my nephew was experiencing really bad side effects. He's smart enough to do research on his own and he found out what was causing the issues. He decided to wean himself off some of them.

At first, it was wonderful... amazing. He felt so much better. He had hopes and dreams again. He started writing music again. He decided to go back to school.

Then it wasn't.

After a while, the effects of not taking all his meds meant that he started showing signs of his disease again. This led to another big episode, more violence. 

He was again kicked out of his home.

This time, he had nowhere to go except for his car. He's officially homeless. It breaks my heart but there's nothing I can do about it. 

My husband and I barely have enough room for ourselves and there's a good chance our daughter (who is in a similar situation but currently is still living with her ex), might have to move in at any time. We are struggling financially and are also helping our daughter until she hopefully can get a job herself.

The only reassuring aspect of all this is knowing that he's strong and hopefully can figure a way out. His immediate family still tells him to snap out of it and get a job. I tell them to lay off him. He needs love and support, not to be told to do what he wants to do but obviously can't. But they aren't listening to me.

Anyway, that rant is beside the point.

What really made me change my perspective...

My mom, who talks to him just about every day (and is his biggest supporter), told me that one way he's making it is to collect cans and turn them in to earn a few dollars. 

One day about a week ago, he was counting change at a McDonald's to get a hot meal when a man saw him. He gave him $20. 

I teared up when Mom told me. I was so thankful for the compassion of this stranger toward my nephew. 

And then it hit me - he's homeless. He is literally no different than those who live on the street, those who so many say need to be moved out of sight, those who so many say deserve or chose the life they have.

Honestly, some probably have, for various reasons. But I know the power of addiction, how mental health issues can overwhelm the strongest person, how a series of bad circumstances can cause the most industrious person to lose housing. A friend of mine has a dearly loved son who is homeless due to addiction. 

My nephew is there because of mental health. My daughter is only one step away from there due to circumstances.

None are lazy. None chose this life. All had hopes and dreams that have been taken away.

There isn't an easy answer. 

But I do know one thing.

They DON'T need to hear that they need to get jobs. They DON'T need to hear that they need to snap out of it. They DON'T need to feel they are worthless.

They are sons, daughters, dads, moms, employees, artists - and nephews. They are important. They are worth being supported.

Somehow, some way, we need to figure out how to help them realize those things - and help them in tangible ways to get out of the situation they are in so that they can get back to who they wanted to be before life got in the way.