let me tell you about a time when i needed strength.

my mom and i had just spent the night in emerge. her stomach had filled up with fluid again and the only known pain relief came in the form of an all night draining process. she reached for my hand when they put the I.V in and i didn't let go until they pulled it out five hours later.

she was drained (literally and figuratively) - we both were - and be it 5:00a.m. when we left, we were more than ready for bed. only my mom didn't have the strength to climb the one - normally very small step - on the front porch, and i didn't have the strength to help her up.

that's what facebook reminded me of today; the time when i didn't have enough strength to help my mom up.

what seemed like an hour later, my mom made it up the front step and found herself falling asleep on the white plastic chair at my sister's front door. you know the kind i'm talking about - the kind you pull up to the campfire when all of your good, comfy chairs are taken. i wanted more than anything for her to be able to fall asleep in her bed, but unfortunately, there were stairs in the way of that, too.

so i sat on the bottom step, put my head against the wall, cried out to God and told him how tired i was and how i wasn't strong enough to 'do this' anymore, and stayed watch until my mom woke up a few hours later. she made it to the couch later that morning, and i laid down on the one beside her.

facebook also reminded me that my Champ of a Mom conquered the 14 stairs required to make it to her bed that night. i tucked her in, kissed her forehead and said goodnight, to which she replied, "goodnight, paula. i hope tomorrow's better."

"i do, too, mom. i do, too", i said as i flicked off her light.

and it was better. tomorrow almost always is. almost. but when it's not, let God be strong for you like He was for me that day (and every day since without her.)

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble" (psalm 46:1)

shame: a painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior.

ever feel like that? ever feel humiliated or in distress because of a choice (or a series of choices) you made?

any time i feel this way - and i have this week - i go back to the garden.

it's there i picture adam and even frolicking in the most beautiful garden. i picture the colourful trees and flowers, the animals, the peace. i picture how pure their relationship with God must have been and how incredibly fulfilling their relationship with each other must have been. they had everything they needed. everything.

but then entered the serpent.

"did God really say, ‘you must not eat fruit from any tree in the garden’?”

she was certain he did, but once that stupid snake informed her that she would be able to gain knowledge she never had before, she caved in, took a bite of the fruit that looked so aesthetically pleasing, and gave her beloved husband a bite, too.

though conniving, the serpent was right; in doing so, they had gained superior knowledge, but they had also disobeyed. once they realized they were naked and full of shame, they ... hid.

that's what shame does, doesn't it? it makes you want to hide. it causes you to avoid eye contact and people, and at times, if we're not careful, can be known to be the breeding ground for even more dumb choices.

of course, we know that this isn't the end of the story. if we read further (and i encourage you to), you'll see that there's grace and reconciliation and freedom all wrapped up in one person (the greatest story ever told!): Jesus.

but sometimes, just sometimes, we don't get there right away; sometimes, just sometimes, we choose to cover ourselves in fig leaves, hide behind a big ole oak tree and wallow in our sinfulness for a bit.

he pulled his shoe off and propped his injured foot up on the chair in between us.

"are you any good at bandaging wounds?", he said as i reluctantly looked at the puss soaked bandage in front of me.

"i'm not a doctor, *john*, but i'll see what i can do."

i tried to take the bandage off with care but i soon found out that he preferred the 'rip off the band-aid' approach.

it didn't look good. to my dismay, he had a nickel-sized hole in his big toe. i covered that baby in polysporin, bandaids and bandages and recommended that he get some real help as soon as he could. he promised he would do so the very next day as he hobbled his way to the homeless shelter where he planned to spend the night.

what i didn't tell you is, how, as i was, again, very reluctantly playing doctor, he was telling me of his frustration with his current 'housing situation' and how it wasn't fair that he couldn't find a place of his own.

that's the thing, and the very point of this post; under every bandaged foot lies a deeper need & underneath every social justice issue lies a busted, broken, unfair system.

so what do i (we) do with that? i'm not entirely sure, but i will keep bandaging feet until i figure it out.

it's not like people who wrestle with suicidal ideations want to die. though i have never went as far as penning a goodbye letter or planning how i'd follow through with it, i've definitely wrestled with thinking about how freeing it would be to not have to fight this battle anymore.

now don't go calling 911 on me. my older (and very ex) sister did that to me once (without being a part of my life outside of social media) and it pissed me off a great deal. in fact, it was the most humiliating night of my life. maybe, just maybe had i have been suicidal, i would have come to appreciate her 'concern' one day, but i wasn't. in fact, the night the cops busted down my door, i was sitting at home eating kale and tilapia, a meal that no one in their right mind would choose as their last one, and one that someone would only choose to suffer through if they were trying to prolong their life, not end it.

so don't call 911. i am not suicidal; i'm merely trying to glean from my experience and shed light on the 'issue' during a week where people are talking about it more than ever. so, without further ado ...

taking your own life isn't cowardly or selfish.

in a weird way, you are actually thinking of others when you think these thoughts. you feel like a burden to your loved ones and are tricked into believing that they would be better off without you. of course, this isn't true and being left to grieve a loved one is traumatic (and i can imagine even more so when you're left to grieve someone who 'chose' to die. tack a few layers of regret and guilt on there while you're at it and you have yourself quite the lifelong battle yourself.

wanting to take your life isn't a normal response to pain and/or circumstance.

if you're feeling this way, you are loved and brave! i beg you to reach out and tell someone safe. you may need to see a doctor and/or a counsellor (and there is no shame in that!)

and lastly, there is always hope.

knowing what this battle can look like firsthand, i feel extremely sad when i hear that someone took their own life, because, even though the battle is extremely difficult and finding the right help can be scary, costly and exhausting, i cling to hope and believe that if we can just hang on a little bit longer, as hard as it may seem, the darkness will go back to its rightful place. my God, the light will always break through.

of course, this is what it's been like for me each time and this time is no exception. as you would know from reading my previous blogs, i've spent the past few weeks 'wasting' a lot of time sleeping. i mustered up enough energy to scrape myself out of bed when i could, pushed through my 'worst case scenerios' and showed up where i needed to, begged God to take away this thorn in my flesh, cried A LOT, took care of myself by booking a counselling appointment and the like, and i am finally starting to feel better. the cloud has lifted and i am able to breathe again!

so ... to you who are battling your own dark battle at the moment, i see you, have hope for you and believe the light will shine through, and to you, the one (of many) who is grappling with a loved ones death due to suicide, i'm so sorry; i feel for you and see you, too.

"when hard pressed, i cried to the Lord; he brought me into a spacious place" [psalm 118:5]

there have been times where a circumstance has lead me into depression; take the loss of an important job or friendship, or the death of my mom and dad for example. in some ways, these bouts are easier to deal with because you can pinpoint the source and figure out the 'why'. in cases like these, you 'simply' do what you need to do to get through and hope to God that you're able to muster up enough energy to crawl your way out of the suffocating darkness.

but then there are times where you have NO IDEA WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON. you notice a change in your mood and very slowly (and sometimes very rapidly) spiral out of control until you find yourself sleeping the days away. sometimes, that's the only thing you can do to shut your mind off and stop the torment.

the hardest part is, it just doesn't makes sense, so imagine how hard it is to be able to articulate what you're feeling and thinking to others. you can't. (and even if you could, they may think you're crazy, or ungrateful, or not taking care of yourself. or, or, or.)

but the truth is, you, more than anyone else you know, want this exhausting battle to end. you, more than anyone else, want peace of mind and will do anything to get it, so advice isn't necessarily the best way to help someone in a time like this.

but presence is. just having someone sit with you (sometimes in silence, sometimes not) speaks volumes and makes you feel less alone. like i said to my friend the other day, even though you want nothing more than to be alone (shame playing a big factor in this), you need to be around people. presence is healing.

knowing this, i got out of bed today and surrounded myself with people at our staff's spiritual retreat. i spent some time alone by a pond, watched beautiful, bright fish swim about aimlessly (i feel like this at times), did some much needed reflection, had a few great conversations and learned a lot about horses. even related to them believe it or not.

right before we went into the horse pit (not sure what else to call it), my new friends john and gabby informed us of how vulnerable and cautious horses are. being prey, they tend to run away when they feel unsafe, but once trust is earned, they're full of love and affection and being around them is oddly healing.

i couldn't help but draw a parallel between their behaviour and my own as i listened to these new and intriguing horse facts. truth be told, i, too, tend to run away when i feel even a tad bit unsafe and/or sense any hint of rejection. i'm quick to build walls around my heart and put my guard up. leave before someone else does. run away in the name of adventure - you name it - but like i was reminded of today through a big and strong but hesitant animal, although being cautious isn't necessarily a bad thing and guarding your heart (the wellspring of life!) to some degree is important and wise, the cost of being too cautious and/or running away when you're full of fear may be too great. because, well, at the end of the day, your heart may have been hurt in the past, but maybe, just maybe, the people in your life now will play a part in its healing.

for me, depression runs as deep as the veins i used to access to bleed.

you see, i used to cut myself. it started while i was a teenager and ended while i was a teenager.

i have had intense emotions as long as i can remember (too intense if you ask me.) i would be fine one minute and enveloped by a dark cloud the next, and no matter how hard i tried, i couldn't escape them. and oh, did i ever want to escape them.

and so i cut myself. not anywhere noticeable; i was petrified of someone finding out. i didn't want to die, either, so i was very careful as to how deep i cut. but i did it, and the pain i felt with each slit was enough to take the focus off of the indescribable emotional pain i was in. at least, temporarily.

to my horror, my mom clued in one day. mother's intuition i guess. she stood outside my very locked bathroom door and begged me not to hurt myself. i told her that i would stop if she went downstairs so i didn't have to look her in the eye on my way back to my room, which she did, and i haven't done it since. the pain i caused her that day (i can still hear it in her voice) was enough for me to stop hurting myself, too.

and so i banged away on the drum kit my uncle gave me instead (which caused my mom a whole different kind of pain.) any time i was feeling intense emotion, i would go downstairs to my dungeon of a basement and let it all out on the toms. this very drum-kit carried me through some really rough patches.

a few short years later, i went to follow the Lord's call on my life and moved away drum-kit less. to my dismay, these damn emotions followed me, forcing me to explore and exhaust other ways in which i could cope. i tried meds, counselling and exercise. i've cried and journalled and reached out to friends, read the Bible for comfort and prayed for peace. sometimes, some of this stuff worked, and sometimes it didn't. mental illness can't be put in a box, after all. in fact, not much can.

and so here i am again.

everything was 'fine' a few weeks a go; i was getting out of bed every day and functioning well. battled then (and have been battling) what i think to be a mid-life crisis, but i didn't feel like i was suffocating like i do today. when you're depressed, it's hard to breathe, and oh what i would do to be able to breathe.

of course, there are moments where i'm able to find some reprieve. moments where i get invited to a lake for the weekend and get to spend it amidst beautiful creation and safe people or get a chance to share a meal with some new friends.

or times like yesterday where although it took everything in me to make it to work, i was greeted by a good friend who took me away from my desk long enough to listen, hug me and pray with me as i released some of my pain through tears. (i don't know if she will ever know how much that helped me get through another day.)

today hasn't been as successful as yesterday, however. it started it off by me cancelling a few meetings i didn't have the mental capacity for, but since then i have managed to force myself out of bed (albeit at 1:00pm), have a shower and go for a walk to the store to get milk, so i guess i'm not doing too badly after all. with depression, sometimes the smallest victories can seem like a big fat win!

i can't tell you how good it felt to pass that bloody muddy finish line.

the night before, i found myself sizing up the 18 intimidating obstacles that would await me the next day. what if i looked like an idiot, couldn't do it, broke a bone (or two!) - or worse - got frustrated and gave up and made a fool of myself in front of my team?

all legit fears, i'll have you know. but when i got there and met up with my team two minutes before our start time, i felt at ease. facing your fears in the midst of good company will do that to you.

the first few obstacles were easy; we had to make our way through a huge mud pit, crawl our way through the "camo crawl" and jump a small (but not too small) wall (which you can imagine i did ever so graciously), gaining momentum and confidence as each one passed.

but then i hit my first 'real' obstacle: the one they call king kong, and for great reason.

i made it to the top of the first ladder but froze in fear when i saw what stood in between me and the way down: a checkerboard shaped net made of unstable, wobbly ropes. in order to get make it to safety, i was required to cross it in a crablike manner. oh helllllllll no. i took my crablike attitude back down the ladder with me and tapped out.

this is when my mental strength came into play. i told myself that it was okay to opt out of something that terrified me to that degree (stay tuned for a story about when i chose the opposite) and that me being incapable of 'conquering the kong' didn't have to stop or discourage me from completing the course set up for me ahead.

a few obstacles later, those darn wobbly ropes stared me in the face again. i thought about bypassing it, i really did, but then two of my teammates assured me that i could do it and offered to wait for me at the top to coach me on how to make it through. and i did; they were exactly what i needed in order to conquer this specific obstacle (and my fear of it), and for that i am forever grateful.

of course, i helped people get over their hurdles, too. in fact, i very quickly adopted the nickname, "paula, push my ass" (which i soon learned meant to hold it in place, too - sorry, peeps.) when anyone needed an extra push to make it over a wall, i was there. we all were there. and it made a world of difference.

we cheered one another on, held each other's hands as we went down the massive and scary water slide that inevitably slammed us into a pool of thick, dark mud, respected one another's limits and gave each other grace when we couldn't complete something, stood in awe as we watched our teammates challenge themselves to tackle the highest of walls in spiderman fashion (i'm talking to you, karen bott), gave each other key high-fives and hugs, laughed a lot and celebrated our accomplishment as we crossed the finish line together 6km later...with help from our photo bomber, josh lott. (love you , bud!)

i'll have you know that my nearing 40 year old muscles took a beating that day (and the past two), but i had an absolute blast and am already planning to tackle next year's race. of course, i'll be taking the lessons i learned this year with me:

one, no matter how many people have told you that you can accomplish 'anything you put your mind to', we all have our limits and that's okay.

two, by the same token, 'quitting' isn't always a bad thing; mental strength is crucial to overcoming any obstacle and reminding yourself that it's okay (and human!) to 'fail" is crucial, too.

and lastly, like i said after hiking the grand canyon not too long a go, we can accomplish a heck of a lot more (and go a lot further in life) when we do so together. no journey is meant to be traveled alone.

SO ... who's in next year? :)