Read, Pray, Love: Part Two

Following on from my post Read, Pray, Love I wanted to write something more. Since writing that post, though it wasn't actually all that long ago, I have had time to think about a great many things. I went to Brighton for a few days last week to visit some friends and my baby goddaughter. Being away from York was exactly what I needed. I spent most of my time with friends but I also took some time for me. I went running along the sea front, I read a fair bit, I read my Bible and I prayed. I feel so much better physically, mentally and emotionally for having had that time to rest and to look after myself. Starting back at Uni this week after the Christmas break and after spending that much-needed time in Brighton I feel, not only prepared, but almost buzzing for what this term and my future hold. I have rediscovered my passion and enthusiasm for life and I cannot wait to get on and do things; to live life. To love life.

My new year's resolutions include to read more, to pray more and to love more. And I have decided that as a way of keeping these particular resolutions, I am going to do a kind of series of blog posts under the umbrella title Read, Pray, Love. I've not worked out any kind of schedule for the posts or even what most of the content will be. Some, if not most, of the posts are going to be based on the books that I read. Mostly Christian or psychology books. The posts may take a kind of book review format or they may take a different form completely.

Other posts are going to be about my prayer life. I am going to try and be as honest as possible in these posts, because I don't feel that enough Christians reveal how truly vulnerable and messed up they are and I am as guilty of this as the next person. So I want to express just how messed up I can be but also to show that, I may be vulnerable, but I am no more vulnerable than anyone else; I am just, simply human.

As for the final part of the Read, Pray, Love. I'm not sure how I will reflect this part in blog posts. It's going to take time for me to work out what I'll write and it could take any form or style. But I am going to try, again, to be as honest as possible in these posts. As I wrote in the first Read, Pray, Love post, I find it difficult to trust people and to love people, so I think that this is going to be the most difficult part for me. But it's going to be an interesting journey.

You will be able to find all future Read, Pray, Love posts on the Read, Pray, Love page by clicking on the tab at the top of the blog page or by following this link: Read, Pray, Love Page.

Scared... Me?!

Ok so I actually started writing this post months ago but I never got around to completing it. And now I know why... the service at church this morning reminded me of this semi-finished post and when I came back to read it, I realised just how right the timing is for it now. Obviously it wasn't right before. So here it is. It's about fear, God, relationships and 'extravagant love'. I feel like perhaps there will be some kind of conclusion to it next week. We'll have to wait and see but in the meantime, please read and make what you will of my ever rambling-ness.


Something that I have boasted over the years is that I am scared of very little. This is true; I'm not scared of much. But when I am scared of something, the fear is crippling. It would be fair to say that this is the cause of some of my mental health problems. But, as I have mentioned before now, I am extremely stubborn. I'm also really bad at asking for help. Both of these character flaws mean that when I do come across something that scares me - terrifies me - and I feel that icy cold grip on the back of my neck and everything just seems to stop, I refuse to admit that I'm scared. More than that, I pretend like whatever it is means nothing and I then avoid it at all costs. One could say that this has gotten me into trouble on more than one occasion; and you wouldn't be wrong. One thing that therapy is -slowly - teaching me, is that I need to talk about things that scare me and ask for help with them when I need it. My stubbornness doesn't help in this matter, but I am starting to talk about things that scare me more. I used to think that admitting fear was akin to admitting weakness; that you might as well stick a massive target on your back or a sign saying, 'pick on me about this; it scares me'. The thing that I'm finding is that actually I was, yet again (I dislike the alarmingly high frequency at which this is happening), wrong. Talking about things that scare me does actually help. It helps to talk to people who perhaps have similar fears or who at least understand the feeling that if you tell people that you're scared they'll use it against you, because they are less likely to do just that. Admitting to and talking about things that I am scared of helps to diminish the fear a little; it makes the thing seem less scary. Especially when someone else chimes in to say that they're scared of that too. It makes you feel less like a freak. Though therapy is, by its very nature, full of crazy people; so the fact that they feel the same as I do, probably doesn't make me any less crazy. But at least I can be crazy with someone.
I feel like I have been working really hard at therapy. I do try to talk about things that scare me. But I'm still scared to talk about some of them. Rather ironic that I find talking about things that scare me, scary. But hey, I am my own brand of crazy. I've talked a lot about my aversion to people which, it turns out, just boils down to me being scared of how people will treat me and of being rejected (talk about serious 'daddy' issues!). I've also talked about my fear of failure; why I find normal life so difficult because I am constantly terrified of getting things wrong and of failing. When I had to leave University, due to my messed up brain, I felt like I had failed. Not just at University but at life. I was in such a bad place when I was at University that even normal everyday life was too much for me and I just wasn't looking after myself - I'm scared of going back there. When you're in that much of a state it's easy to let yourself think that you're a complete failure, at everything. And for someone who is terrified of failure, it just completely destroys you. You let it destroy you.
As a Christian, I know that I have nothing to fear. God has always and will always have His hand on my life. While I've been at therapy I've not just been learning about the psychological aspects of my mental health problems but I have also been learning about the spiritual aspects. I have found an amazing home at York City Church and I consider all of its members to be family to me. They have helped me through this time in my life to an extent that they don't even know. And I am so grateful for them. Especially considering the fact that just a year and a half ago, they didn't even know who I was. God has blessed me so richly this past year. He gave me St Andrew's, where I go for my therapy, knowing that it was perfectly right for me. Because everything He does is perfectly right. Through therapy and church, He has taught me so much about myself and about life. I have never felt so good as I do now. I am filled with joy. And it is all thanks to Him. He has helped me to realise that for so long I was in bondage, to sin and fear. And His hand on my life, His blessings, have helped me to see that I don't need to live like that, ever. Not just to see it but to truly believe it. I do not need to be afraid. I do not need to be ashamed. The funny thing is, I always knew this. I have been a Christian for as long as I can remember. I always knew all of this. But, as one of the therapists at St Andrew's loves to tell me constantly, 'knowing isn't everything'. And, as per usual, he is right. I doubt he meant for that to speak to me on a spiritual level but God works in mysterious, and often rather humorous, ways.
My emotional journey through life and therapy has been completely intertwined with my spiritual journey with God and I have frequently found that themes in my therapy seem to be linked to many of the themes talked about at my church on a Sunday morning. This morning was no exception. I've been thinking a lot about this fear thing; this isn't the first time I've visited this blog post. Recently the theme of my work at St Andrew's has been about relationships. I've had a pretty bad run when it's come to relationships in the past and so talking about relationships is pretty scary for me. So scary that I often get horrible nightmares that feel almost real. I've never really talked about my nightmares before but I know that it's something I'm going to have to do. And soon. The service at church this morning was about 'Extravagant Love' for Jesus. It may not seem like this would have anything to do with fear but it really does. The guy who was preaching talked about things that stop people from loving extravagantly. Fear was one of those things. He addressed it mostly to the men in the room, which I disagreed with actually, because I knew exactly what he was talking about when he described how that fear can affect our lives and our relationships; especially our relationship with God. And that kind of fear can and does affect anyone. Hearing the preacher talk about fear like that, even though I knew it all already, was like a revelation. And it felt like God was just using the man at the front of my church to repeat everything He'd been saying to me through therapy. When that happens it makes me even more certain that I am where God wants me to be because He just keeps driving it all home and backing it up with the Gospel. I got a real sense this morning of things just sliding into place, like the cliched pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. I realised that all of my fears and insecurities about relationships are just preventing me from extravagantly loving God and having the relationship with Him that I am meant to have. It just reminded me that I am where I need to be and that God has His hand over my life and I just need to completely trust Him. But my fear has stopped me from doing that. Over recent months I have come to trust and rely on God more, in the way that I am supposed to. But I still find it a constant battle. I know that God loves me extravagantly. He sent His only son to die, for me! That is how much He loves me. But to love Him in return, in the way that He deserves to be loved, I need to let go of my fear.
And I thought that, with only five weeks left to go at St Andrew's, the work was almost done. What a fool I have been!

Honesty, Fears and Infertility

On Friday September 14^th 2012 I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome or PCOS. I had heard of PCOS but didn’t know much about it until I watched a television programme on which there was a woman who suffered from the syndrome. Some of the symptoms sounded similar to symptoms that I had been experiencing for years so I looked up the syndrome online. The symptoms include: irregular or absent periods; excessive hair growth; excessive weight gain or difficulty losing weight; severe acne, not just limited to the face, and cysts on the ovaries. Depression can also be a symptom of PCOS. I went to my GP and described the symptoms to him, asking him if it was possible that I had PCOS. My doctor said it was highly likely that I did have it and so he took some blood to test for it. The first lot of tests were inconclusive but my GP was fairly certain that I had the syndrome and so he referred me to an Endocrinologist; a specialist who deals with hormone disorders including diabetes and PCOS. I saw the Endocrinologist on the 14^th September and he did several tests, as well as a physical examination, before officially diagnosing me with PCOS.

            PCOS is caused mostly by a hormonal imbalance. The ovaries produce more male hormones than they should which affects the production of eggs and leads to the production of lots of little cysts all over the ovaries. PCOS also has an element of insulin resistance. Women who have the syndrome have an excess of insulin which increases the production of the male hormones, causing all of the symptoms. This is also what makes it difficult for women with PCOS to lose weight because their bodies cannot process sugars and starches properly. The increased weight, however, also makes the symptoms worse creating a kind of vicious cycle which is difficult to get out of.

            There are a couple of different treatments for PCOS. The usual treatment is just to take the contraceptive pill, which increases the levels of female hormone thus reducing some of the symptoms, however, this doesn’t always work especially for women with a high insulin resistance factor. A treatment that has become more frequently offered to women with insulin resistance is a drug called Metformin. Metformin is traditionally a Diabetes medication, which is why it helps with the insulin resistance. For women who receive the Metformin treatment, they are also required to dramatically alter their diets in order to help them lose weight and to allow the drug to work more effectively.

            When I saw the Endocrinologist in September he decided that the best treatment for me was the Metformin treatment. Since I saw him, I have been trying to follow the diet advice I was given, have lost some weight and have noticed some improvement in a couple of the symptoms. I saw the Endocrinologist again in December and he seemed pleased enough with the progress I had made, so he said that I wouldn’t need to see him again until next September, a year after I was first diagnosed. The diet is sometimes difficult to manage and I’m hoping to see a dietician at some point to help me get it more under control.

            So far all I’ve written about in this post is factual stuff about Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, but one fact I’ve not directly mentioned, the one that scares me most, is that PCOS can cause infertility. I’ve not written at all about how being diagnosed with PCOS has made me feel. I have always wanted children. I have never wanted anything more than to have children one day; a family of my own. And I have always had this fear, this immense, awful fear, that I won’t be able to. I used to think that I would never have children, just because I never thought that any man would want me enough to marry me and have children with me. But I let myself hope, dream, that maybe actually God would give me a husband. And then I get told that because of my PCOS I might be infertile; might never be able to have children. And that thought is almost destroying me. People keep telling me to try not to worry about it. That I can’t know for certain that I am infertile until I try for a family and get tested. That I’m just catastrophising it in my head; creating a problem that may not exist. But when your life’s hopes and dreams have been almost entirely built on something, to have even the slightest uncertainty that you will get it… it feels like the whole world has been ripped out from under you. I feel like my future has been destroyed and though I’ve been trying not to think like that and to think about other things I could do in my future, but it feels like there is this massive black hole in my life that is never going to close. And I can’t help but think that my life has no purpose, if I’m not able to have children.

            Call me melodramatic. Say I’m over-reacting. But this thing is killing me. And I just needed to tell the truth. To someone. Anyone. Everyone. I’m scared. Terrified. I just want to have children.

Week Two in the Mad House

            So I did actually go back to the group therapy thing this week. It was a difficult decision to make myself return because I really didn’t want to. But I forced myself to persevere. I realised that not to go back would only serve to spite myself. Last week, when those two community members walked out, I became upset because of my own history of storming out of therapy. I realised that if I were to not return, especially after so short a period of time, I would just be doing what I always do when I don’t like something or it becomes too difficult – running away. And if I really want to recover, I have to overcome my fears and my constant urge to run away from them.

            So as I said, I went back. Monday morning was rather uneventful but art therapy that afternoon was a struggle. I have issues with art. I am not artistic person and sometimes I just don’t get it, but my biggest problem is what is counted as ‘art’ and what is not. I work in words. I love words and I see them as art but, in the art therapy sessions, we are expected to produce an image of some kind; a drawing, a painting or even a sculpture. But not words. Or at least not just words. Both of my pieces of work that I have done in the art therapy sessions so far have been composed of just words. My first piece was just a page full of random quotes that popped into my head – I didn’t give a great deal of thought to it, I just can’t do art. But my second piece was more considered. I spent what felt like an eternity staring blankly at all of the art supplies trying to think of something to draw or paint. It was too stressful though, so I just ended up grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil and wrote a great long rant about ‘art’ and what it really is; what really constitutes ‘art’.

            Obviously people have already noticed my aversion to art and the fact that my two pieces of work thus far have been pieces of writing, and there has been discussion about it over the course of the week. On Tuesday, because another member of the community was leaving this week, there was a review of his artwork from his year on the programme. I looked at his art with everyone else but I felt a little awkward doing so as the art from the programme is a very intimate, personal thing and I had only known the guy a short while. At the review, two of the therapists asked me what I felt about the artwork and if any piece in particular affected me. Whilst talking to one of these two therapists about art and my difficulties with it, he said he found it interesting that I do not much like art because people are usually very visual. He also asked about my preoccupation with words and writing, and he made me think about why I love words so much and why I don’t like art very much. It was a difficult conversation and I still haven’t quite worked out the answers to the questions it raised.

            On Tuesday afternoon we had a session called awareness. It’s difficult to explain exactly what ‘awareness’ is about. This week we did something known as ‘empty chair’. ‘Empty chair’ is an exercise in direct communication. People took turns to sit in front of other members of the community and say something to them directly, without receiving a response, about something that has been bothering them. The subjects of the direct communications were not always grievances, but the point of the exercise was to help people with issues regarding talking to people directly, especially about difficult subjects. It also helps people listen to and accept confrontation without responding directly and immediately. I felt very uncomfortable during the session as I really struggle with confrontation. I also have problems with paranoia and rejection which mean I worry about what people think of me. This made me really anxious during the ‘empty chair’ exercise as I was terrified of the thought that someone would say something horrible to me and that they didn’t like me. No one did say anything horrible to me. In fact, the one person who did say anything to me, was very kind and said that I had done very well in the therapy so far and that I fit into the group easily. I was very grateful for what she said and she had been really encouraging. I’m still terrified that someone will say that they hate me, and I hate the thought of having to do the ‘empty chair’ exercise again, but I guess that therapy is about dealing with difficult things and the things we don’t like and are scared of.

            Wednesday mornings we have small group therapy which is when the community splits into two groups and then sit around and discuss issues within each group. In my group the discussion got around to the topic of relationships which is a difficult subject for many people, including me. During the discussion, a few people mentioned that they had put on weight almost in attempts to make themselves unattractive to people because they couldn’t deal with relationships or even attention from prospective partners. This raised an issue for me. I decided a few years ago that I no longer wanted to engage in casual relationships as I want to wait for my husband, which is very important to me, especially given my faith. I have also since realised that God wants me to remain single in order to concentrate on my recovery, and to truly find my identity in Him before growing into an identity in a relationship with someone. Around the same time as I made the decision to be single, I started to put on a lot of weight. I had believed that my weight-gain was due to the fact that I have always had problems with my weight and it has always fluctuated, a lot. I had never thought that perhaps my weight-gain was related to my decision to enter singleness but, during the discussion in small group therapy, I began to wonder if perhaps the two were actually linked. I’m still not certain of a connection, but it has made me wonder and start to examine more closely the reasons behind my current weight problem, and even my persistent issues with my weight.

            Thursday mornings consist of reviews in which two community members talk about their therapy and their goals, and receive feedback from the rest of the community and the therapists. The reviews occur for each community member once every six to eight weeks, so I will not have my first one for another few weeks yet (the thought of which terrifies me). Obviously, due to confidentiality issues, I cannot write about what is said in the reviews of other community members. After the reviews, there is check-out which involves each community member talking about how the week was for them and what they would be doing over the weekend. When it was my turn to talk about my plans for the weekend, someone suggested that I take some time to plan what I would do in art therapy the next Monday, as it had been noticed that my last two pieces had been writing. This brought laughs, especially from the therapist who had been asking me about my aversion to art on the Tuesday. I admit I pulled a face, partly because I had been caught out and partly because I really don’t like art.

            This week has brought up a lot of issues for me which I told the community I would bring into the group next week – including my dislike of art. Another issue that arose this week came from the discussion on Wednesday about relationships. I had mentioned God when talking about my decisions with regards to relationships and had explained that my faith had a lot of bearing upon my relationship choices. Everyone in the community is aware of my faith but the talk of it, especially with regards to relationships, brought up issues within the group especially for a couple of the community members who are gay. I think that these issues need exploring further and not just for the benefit of those with objections to my faith, but also because I took issue with some of the things that were said in response to my beliefs.

            I guess this suggests that I will be returning next week. I still have the same doubts about this therapy as I did before, and I still want to just run away and not go back, but I know that I need to persevere. I am already feeling some benefit from the programme, and I know that any further benefit will take time and hard work, so I will go back. And I will continue to do so for as long as it is right for me to do so. I know that this is what God wants for me and so I need to trust in that and in Him; which is a rather difficult thing for me to do.

            Prayer for the therapy and for the things it raises would be greatly appreciated and I will update again next week.

Thanks and God bless

KV