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.