Soap for Jesus

Note: Trigger warning: If you're in a bad place, don't read this. If you think you can handle it...try. It may encourage you. I hope. :P Depression-exhaustion. It's one of the things I loathe most about a bout of suicidal depression. (If you need a definition of that, feel free to message me: fromselfharmtovictory@gmail.com) First there's a tiny grey cloud, a mood change...flashbacks...sometimes panic attacks...random crying spells...intense sadness over the lost things/people... Those can be triggered by, or exacerbated, by arguments, events (i.e., a person who dislikes/caused a lot of trouble for me married recently, and it triggered this bout because he was brought back into my life, albeit unintentionally, by mutual friends; aggravated by an argument this past weekend). Then it literally feels like my mind is being torn in two. There's the one part which seems to be out of control, and the other which is logical and takes the rationale. It knows I'...

I just finished reading an encouraging note sent to me by Sarah Beth regarding a question I'd asked about From Self-harm to Victory earlier in the day. I don't know about you, but messages of encouragement always make me cry. And feel guilty. As much as I publicise my weakness so that people see who I am and who Christ is, I still feel like a fraud. That I'm blazoning myself for glory and my actions as good works. That people still can't see the real me. They're suspicious of me, and so am I. And it's hard to carry on being me and showing so much weakness. Do you know how hard it is to be openly weak? To listen to others discourage you and to despise yourself for it? She praised me for humility and I could only cry knowing how much I fight with pride. Then I stopped and listened. Because Someone was telling me to let go of my guilt and shame and accept what she said. Not as praise for me, but as praise for Him in me. Praise from Him to me. No, I...

I hate typing up stuff like this, because it feels crazy and I feel shy about being crazy. On occasion. :P For the first time in two months, I have inexplicable hope in my heart. I'm starting to weakly seek after God again in action, instead of stumbling blindly, hanging off maxims and knowledge and repeating words that ring dusty in my mouth, groping for a truth that I'm too tired to seek. Satan sure knows the places to shoot the Lord's servants down. Without the shadow of a doubt. Two months of being shaken and too tired to care. Giving up. The motions were those of moving forwards, when everything in me wanted to sit down in the road, cross my arms and refuse to do. Spiritually, emotionally, I had, and was wondering exactly how long it would be before it became visible to everyone. Spiritual decline is very quickly visible. The last weekend away at the Lauser family's home in Ireland really...helped. To stop. To look. To listen...to be forcibly embedded in God...

Note: The way I live out my faith is...somewhat radical, because I believe in an intimate relationship with Jesus. So be prepared. :P I felt sticky, and ugghy, and grotty and bleh as I stepped outside of the office building where I work. It was another dragging high pressure day, and as much as I love my job, the atmosphere (and the worry) sometimes gets to me. Pulling my phone out of my jacket pocket as I began the twenty(ish) minute walk to the train station, I tried to catch up on a few people's posts, shielding the phone from the glare of the sun. A dear friend and sister posted about how some cruel people had laughed and called her fat before running off, and how broken she was feeling. Couldn't do much, but posted a quick note and walked off praying for her. It's been a beautiful day, in the between. And the between is what counts, isn't it? For right now, I'm in the brightness, the sun shining bright and the world glowing with colour and hope and beau...