GOD KEEPS ME SAFE THROUGH EMOTIONAL STORMS

21 years ago tomorrow (18.11.94), at the age of 65 Mum died from cancer. I can remember it like it was yesterday. As someone who regularly proclaims how bad my memory is, it amazes me how clearly I can recall the events of the day before Mum died, the day itself and the day after. There was a strange peace the day after Mum died. It was a grey and misty November day and the four of us - my sister and two brothers - and partners went for a long and lovely walk. Someone - it might have been me - commented that it felt like Christmas. I guess it was an extraordinary out of the normal routine day.

Collage made from 'After Mum' painting

In the following days I was doing some frantic 'this is the only way I can deal with these emotions' type painting. Not long after that I was hauled off to see my psychiatrist - eight months into my official bipolar disorder diagnosis. To say I didn't much care for my psychiatrist at that time was an understatement. He did what medical consultants should never do, ergo, talk to whoever took me to see him - about me - in the third person, as if I didn't exist. I remember one time waking up in a daze having been admitted in the middle of the night to the Priory at Altrincham, and dosed up with anti-psychotics. Sitting up in my beloved 'Betty Ford Clinic' t-shirt (those were my pre-Christian recreational drug imbibing days) with its back slogan 'Clean and Serene', I saw said psychiatrist and let out an audible groan. The man was far too interested in talking about my slightly well known, knighted father than listening to me. One day on the depressed end of my spectrum I challenged him on this and he got so cross he threw me out of his consulting room. The scene was so bizarre/funny it acted like a massive injection of instant anti-depressant. Within days I was much better and then came under the care of a wonderful woman psychiatrist from Iraq, Dr Booya, who really 'saw' me, and treated me with respect and sincere and loving kindness. The world would be a better place with more psychiatrists of her ilk.

At 65 Mum died far too young, missing out on all her grandchildren except one. I am sad Mum never met my husband Dorian - whose interests and concerns are so aligned with hers as to be uncanny. Of course our children Georgina and Dylan missed out on a very special Granny. I have lived with the loss of not having Mum through all the many difficulties and challenges of life in general, bipolar and of course parenting. I have missed so much the physical comfort of Mum, not being able to give her the massive hugs she loved. A student at the Royal Northern College of Music - where she met Dad - she gave up her hopes and dreams of being a musician and dedicated herself to being a Mum. She was a person of utmost integrity. An animal rights campaigner, a dedicated vegetarian, a lover of English setter dogs, someone who taught me and the rest of my siblings: 'everyone deserves respect' and 'stand up for the underdog'.  I mark the anniversary of Mum's death as I always do by just putting it out there that my heart is full of thanks for all that Mum was, all that she gave and all that she sacrificed. 

12/11 is another a day of heightened emotion - our son Dylan's birthday. We celebrated his first in the psychiatric unit of the Borders General Hospital where I was sectioned. I made a birthday card on a bit of scrap paper. I had been torn away from breastfeeding him at 9 months when I was admitted. It was 3 months before I was discharged and it was many more months before Dylan would reach out his arms or come to me at all. I thank God that Dorian was doing an amazing job of looking after our children - in our house in the middle of nowhere - with no family support - George a toddler, Dylan a baby and both in nappies. Being a Mum who was incapable of actually being a Mum broke my heart. But God. Dylan was 15 last week and I praise God for how my life has been turned round since 2001. Joel 2:25.

In the midst of all this, last weekend my beloved sister-in-law (Dorian's sister) and sister in the Spirit Kim, was baptised.  It was a wonderful and happy occasion but a general feeling of too much emotion and too little sleep has been the outcome. I praise God that he has brought me to an incredible place of insight as regards my 'illness'. It's in the background most of the time, but I know when it is triggered - as it can be when I get too busy and there's lots going on. I heard God's still small voice telling me yesterday to get with Him, to overrule my fleshly tendencies to be out in the world doing needless stuff like shop shop shopping and to listen to the command of Psalm 46:10 'Be Still and Know that I am God'. Just keep going and keep very close to God is what He's telling me. Day by day, step by step, I can trust Him. He will lead me and guide me.

Birthday Blog

Young me!

Happy Birthday to me. Wow, it's a while since 1961, and so far it's been amazing, surprising and at times a dark and challenging journey. I'm glad to report that I am happier than I have ever been today thanks to the fact that I will soon be celebrating (on September 25th) 10 years since I was 'born again'. I have a brand of happiness deep within that comes from God. It's so different from the party high happiness of my teenage days and into my thirties where I was up and down like a rollercoaster and my state of mind was dependent on external things. With God - He is the same everyday, His Holy Spirit lives in me, and my value is a given through Him. .. 'the joy of the Lord is our strength' Nehemiah 8:10

At the moment I am enjoying 'scoping' (broadcasting from a mobile phone), and my account is www.periscope.tv/vivianwade Through scoping I have connected with an awesome group called Perisisters in Christ. www.perisistersinchrist.com . The group has been going a couple of months, one of the founding perisisters is Kim Cash Tate www.kimcashtate.com. Kim scopes every weekday in the morning (in the US) - I listen at 3pm here - and it's a wonderful bible class - in scoping world a #devoscope. We have themes and this week's has been 'pursuit'. Up to now we've had seasons, courage, soldier. Each week's theme has really spoken to me and I have a real sense of growing in God.

As we have been thinking about 'pursuit' I have had a revelation about what pursuing God diligently and earnestly actually means. In the world - one I very much grew up in - all about achieving and striving ( I went to Cambridge University - and there were expectations....) the word pursuit, the act of pursuing, at first made me think of running about chasing after something. Quite often like the proverbial headless chicken. Also, because of my bipolar diagnosis - it's not hard for me to build up steam running about firing on all cylinders. But, and it's a big BUT, God has revealed to me this week, that 'pursuing' Him, the one who is in me, is about settling down, getting quiet and being with Him. Psalm 46:10 'Be still,and know that I am God' and 1Kings 19:11-12..those beautiful verses about hearing from God through a 'still, small voice'.

At the beginning of the week I was thinking about pursuit and about pursuing God - and His purpose for my life. As I was taking one of my regular prayer walks with our little dog Pete, I looked at the trees swaying effortlessly in the breeze. I reflected on how the natural world lives out its purpose - knowing what to do and when to do it. I know that's how God wants us to live - easily - yoked to Him, in obedience to Him, and He'll lead us and direct our steps. It's a blessed relief to stop striving, to let go and let God. My prayer is to walk with Him in the way Jesus puts it in Matthew 11:28-30 'Come to me,all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.'

All these beautiful pictures were taken by my 14 year old son Dylan

Reflecting on 9/11

My strange memories of 9/11 are because on September 11th, 2001, I was in a rather different scary place to the rest of the world. I was sectioned (legally held for my own safety) in a psychiatric unit.  Just a few days earlier on the 8th of September I had 'celebrated' my 40th birthday with a huge party. My mental health had been gradually deteriorating for a couple of months as my stress levels (completely self-inflicted) over arrangements had been mounting. I was taken away in the middle of the party, before the fireworks my sister and brother-in-law had paid for as a gift to me, and before the end of the night had been admitted to a psychiatric unit.

Within a few days the unit at the Borders General Hospital had been unable to cope with the extent of my illness. I was transferred by ambulance to the intensive care psychiatric unit in Edinburgh, an hour drive from our home. I have no memory at all of that transfer or of much of those early days of my inpatient stay. The ICPU was a horrendous place. It was the most depressing, dilapidated environment a person could find themselves in. It served inedible food. I didn't eat partly because I thought someone was trying to poison me - but also because it was revolting. I lost 3 stone in weight in a few weeks ( the only good thing to happen in that time - needless to say all and more piled back on afterwards).  I was so unwell with bipolar, (the story of my diagnosis is documented to some extent in earlier blogs) that my psychiatrist thought, in his words, relayed to my husband, that my head 'had gone and was never coming back'.

In the unit where I was sectioned,  the televisions were constantly on. One was usually on a children's TV channel but others were permanently showing the news. I was vaguely aware that something terrible had happened, and I can remember seeing George Bush and Tony Blair making a lot of speeches together. Somewhere in my head I thought that whatever had happened, it was my fault.

At the time my babies were just 9 months and 18 months. I was cut off overnight from breastfeeding my little boy and I was away from them for 12 weeks. My husband Dorian did an amazing job of holding things together - out in the middle of nowhere in the Scottish Borders - where we then lived. He brought them to see me when possible but I suppose as I became a bit better I became more aware of the reality that I was a Mum who was physically and emotionally incapable of being one. It was the most painful thing I have ever experienced.

This is a hard photo for me to look at, Christmas 2001, just out of hospital and struggling

Since then I have become a new creation. In 2005 I gave my life to God and was born again. I have written about my journey to God in earlier blogs. On September 25th 2015 I celebrate 10 years since my baptism in Selkirk swimming pool. My baptism verse is Jeremiah 29:11: 'For I know the thoughts that I think towards you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.' I also love the next couple of verses: Jeremiah 29:12-13 'Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.' I have been walking with God for 10 years. I know I have a long way to go but looking back I have come so far. I was so lost, and have been found, I was in chains and have been set free. From being in a place where my 'bipolar' diagnosis dominated my life I praise God for how he has healed me.  I was a victim, then a survivor, now I am an overcomer, helping others. I know that God has an amazing plan for my life. I have to play my part, stay close to and be obedient to Him.

So 14 years since 9/11 - and there is a relevance in the fact that's two lots of 7 years - as 7 is an important number biblically - being the number of completeness both physically and spiritually. I'm not enough of a bible scholar to say much more than that. I do know that since 9/11 God has transformed my life. It's 7 years since I was last an inpatient in a psychiatric unit. And 7 years down the road from that I have set up and am helping run a ministry in my church which supports people going through mental health and emotional stuff. It's called 'Peace of Mind - sharing the journey'.

My marriage has survived - hard as it has been along the way - our kids have survived - and are growing into two fantastic young people. As I think of the thousands of people who lost their lives that awful day and pray for the families they left behind, I remember that time in a different way and my heart overflows with thankfulness to God,  for all He has done and continues to do in my life. 

Family picture summer 2014

Celebrating Dorian's 50th birthday September 2015

Mental Health Awareness Week 2015

I first knew something was wrong when I was taking my A levels back in the late 70s. There was a lot of pressure on me to perform well and I was set to take the Oxbridge entrance exam. There was a long journey from a sense that something deep within wasn't right to diagnosis of a mental health issue.

At University I was quite up and down mostly dependent on how many parties I had been invited to, what narcotics I had indulged in and 'boy' stuff. In my twenties working as a radio journalist in London I lived a strange mix of months as a wild and popular party girl and months as a deeply depressed social recluse who vaguely managed to drag herself into work to perform broadcasting duties. I resisted diagnosis and medication. A doctor did give me a prescription for anti-depressants but I threw it away. I went the route of talk therapy and floundered around getting various recommendations and visiting a series of unsatisfactory therapists.

When I couldn't take it any more I was fortunate to be able to run off to California and stay with my oldest friend, who was living in LA. The whole excitement triggered me into a massive high. My beloved friend had quite a handful with manic me on hand. We are still best friends to this day God love her. One little insight into manic behaviour - on a fairly mild level - that I can remember from that time was when I ended up arguing with her saying that it was actual, real lava that was in lava lamps. Sara was trying to talk sense to me but I was having none of it. Lava lamps contained real lava as far as I was concerned and that was the end of it.

After LA I studied and worked for a while in Berkeley, where I had my first 'psychotic' experience. I thought I  had caused the strange warm wind that was blowing and I  had caused all the computers to crash at my workplace. I was wandering the streets at 5am inviting road sweepers to a non-existent party. It was scary. Eventually I let my therapist get me admitted to a psychiatric hospital in San Francisco where I was soon transferred from the open to the locked side of the unit. Unlike anything we do in the UK (praise God) I was actually put in 'isolation' in a room and strapped to a bed. The most horrific and terrifying experience to someone who already feels pretty terrified and weird I can tell you. It was there that I received my bipolar diagnosis and was put on medication.

I continued to have inpatient stays in the UK on my return. The worst ever time was being separated from my two small children and sectioned when we lived in Scotland. My husband was amazing, looking after them and keeping it all together while I was very unwell.

The other crucial part of my story is that while living in Scotland I had an amazing God encounter and became a Christian. I was baptised in Selkirk swimming pool in 2005.  With God as my rock and foundation, I live a full and recovered life. My default settings are peace and joy not rollercoaster. I still take mood stabilisers but bipolar no longer defines me. It is very much in the background.

I have been involved in setting up a mental health support group Peace of Mind at my church and it is my ministry to help others, if I can, walk through some of the stuff that I have experienced. My marriage and family, through all the challenges, has survived. The small children are now teenagers and memories of me in hospital are pretty distant.

I have always always been open and talked about my mental health, because I passionately believe that until people are open mental illness will remain scary and there will be stigma. That is why I write this week to share a little glimpse into my story.