Survival Tactics For Humans

 

Sometimes the best revenge when someone has hurt you is to simply live a good life. Sometimes if the hurts cut too deeply, you must live your good life without them. Sometimes if you find yourself surrounded by unsafe people (please read Safe People by Townsend and Cloud if you want information on this subject), you must assess why that is so, what your part in those issues is, and you must make changes to make your environment safe. Lashing out accomplishes nothing and damages everyone concerned. Even if your own words don’t “come back to bite you in the butt,” as the saying goes, your own words can still hurt you in lost time, lost happiness, lost relationships.

It is best to turn the other cheek. Jesus is the perfect example of turning the other cheek. But this does not mean that He allowed the offenders to strike another blow. He chose to surround Himself with safe people and He chose to live His life as an example for others.

Turning the other cheek means you move on without taking revenge. Without charging an eye for your own swollen and blackened eye. Having such a negative attitude only leads to more hurt, more strife, more pain. Therefore, it is best to lead a good life without sinking low.

Whether those who have offended you ever know of your new-found freedom through living your own good life is inconsequential. Just as forgiveness is for your own heart and not for the benefit of the person you are forgiving, happiness is for your own sake. I have given myself the grace to live my life as best I can, though sometimes my depression still rears its ugly head. I am only human.

I strive always for forgiveness, goodness, and mercy in my heart. I surround myself with good people, loved ones who build me up rather than tear me down. I strive to give and do for others whenever I can, though my illness tends to hold me back from all I want to do. God has forgiven me my inabilities and my failings in my darkest hours, in my weakest moments, in my illness. I strive to give myself enough grace to heal my heart, soul, and body instead of hating myself for all that I am not and cannot do.

I am a survivor. I survive. I am alive. And God loves me even though, or maybe because, I am human.

The Best Anti-Depressant

. . . is being proactive.

For years, I have suffered at the hands of my depression and anxiety. For years, I have let those evils run my life. For years, I have wallowed in self-pity, allowing my past to continue to haunt me. For years, I have contemplated suicide, knowing in my messed-up brain that the world would be better off without me.
For years, I was stupid. Allowing my past and my emotions to rule my present and my future is stupid.

Sometimes I hate myself for allowing this waste of my life. It is worse than suicide because I have to be here and still know how much of my life is gone, wasted. But I cannot hate myself forever. I am only human, after all, and if I allow others their mistakes and I forgive them, why not myself?

A couple years ago, I hit rock bottom. I thought I had already been there several times before, but this time was the worst. I found myself newly diagnosed with a devastating illness. I lost my job because of that illness. I was thrust into motherlessness when my mother suddenly passed away from a pulmonary embolism. I further became an orphan when my entire birth family shunned me because they could not accept my illness. They preferred to call me a hypochondriac and lazy. I lost my home because of my illness, medical bills, and joblessness. If it weren’t for the love of my dear husband, I would have been destitute, alone, and dead on the street.

I came to a decision in the wake of all that tragedy.

I had to love myself as much as Ken loves me. As much as Jesus loves me. I had to fight for myself as much as Ken was willing to fight for me. As much as Jesus fought and died for me.

I came to the decision that, even with the love and support of Ken and Jesus and my son, I was ultimately the one who had to save me.

I had to be proactive.

But I did not know how. I did not know what to do.

I took a few classes at church. At first, my life crumbled further into the abyss as my searchings opened old wounds. I was forced into reliving my past every night in my nightmares.

Then things started to even out. My emotional life started to improve even though I still suffered greatly in my physical life.

I would like to share that turning point with you. This painting and poem came about because of an assignment in one of the church classes I took. Because of my new guiding attitude and the reminders of this artwork, I know I must fight and scratch and claw my way out of the pit of depression.  Sometimes I must still fight every day. Just as I must be proactive in regaining my physical health, I must be proactive in my mental and emotional health.

Thank you for allowing me to share my life with you. Thank you, Renew and Mountain View Christian Church, for helping me know what I must do. Thank you, Pastor Dave, for listening to my broken heart, even when sometimes I just seemed to blubber and rant.

And thank you, Angie, most of all for starting me on my healing journey. Your insights into grief and your compassion for others are immeasurable. I love you, my dearest friend.

RENEWED

I am renewed

I am out of the woods

On top of the mountain

The dove of peace

Has left the olive branch

And taken away the spirochetes

I reach for Jesus

His warmth beckoning

My heart is already there

His gifts rain down around me

Like wildflowers in a field

So many go unnoticed

His greatest worldly gifts

My life, my mind, my body

These renew so that I may

Give my gifts to you.
 

Jennifer Lynn Servantes

October 15, 2009
 

Winter Blues Come Early

 

Ken and I returned home a few days ago. We will be home for the entire winter, my worst season. We talked briefly about getting the Raven winterized, and my depression escalated even more than in the few days before we came home, as I dreaded returning home.

One of the fulltimers we met in Neskowin asked when we would be back. I wanted to say, “real soon,” but I know differently. She said that they were staying the winter in Neskowin, and I so longed to just hunker down, even though it was bracingly chilly, and the only thing I fear worse than drowning is the wind—and being so close to the ocean that you can hear the waves means you will get quite a bit of wind. I did not want to go home. I do not want to be home.

There is too much to do here. Too much stuff left undone, stuff left un-gone-through. There are too many bad memories here. Too much pain, emotional pain, family pain. It is too cold here. Too dark. This is not my home.

This is no longer my home, though my stuff is here. The Raven is my home. I know that now. I feel safe there. I feel welcome there. I feel happy there.

I entered in the front door of our duplex, and my only source of solace, other than my bed, is the light coming in the front door’s etched window. It beckons me to leave again, but I cannot.

I must deal with all that is left to do before Spring arrives.

But I must first deal with this nagging depression. I must find a way to make it through the winter with my sanity intact. I must find a way to continue to be me even though I cannot be free.