Tagged: depression

Dealing With Periods of Extreme Stress

“Count it all joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of various kinds.” – The Book of James.

How do we deal with stress? How do we cope when the trials never seem to stop but whatever we do the difficulties continue? Do we resort to prescription drugs or, worse, the illegal variety?

Of course, anxiety occurs in many degrees of severity. Everyone experiences it sometimes, but few severely enough to warrant medical intervention. That, however, is changing as the modern way of life makes our daily grind even more strenuous.

The problems may start small: the odd unpaid bill, the sick child, or even as tiny as a forgotten item at the checkout. But then, because this world gives us no opportunity to rest and truly “seek God with all [our] heart” the problems mount up and the anxiety gets worse.

Nipping it in the bud

Anxiety can become harder to deal with the more it develops. One phrase which was used by people speaking to me was that I was “trapped in a vicious circle.”

This “vicious circle” became so huge for me that I resorted to copious amounts of alcohol, along with certain illicit drugs, especially cannabis. [NOTE: both alcohol and the good varieties of natural cannabis sativa can be helpful in combating anxiety. The trouble comes with large quantities and/or synthetically produced alternatives.]

But my own full story is beside the point. Sufficient to say that I found a way to recover and cope. I did so through prayer, Scripture reading, fellowship (both Christian and with friends) and a good amount of herbal remedial actions.

My anxiety levels are currently huge due to numerous ghosts from the past, pressures on housing, modern technology, benefits issues as well as a number of evil accusations levelled against me, yet for most the following steps will help deal with anxiety at mild to moderate levels without any need to resort to psychiatric help:

  1. Try to keep calm through using tea. White tea or certain herbal teas can reduce anxiety levels and help you remain at peace.
  2. Ask trusted and mature Christian people in your life of the most useful Bible passages for your present situation.
  3. Take regular periods of rest. This is vital.
  4. If need be, take a little extra soothing remedy such as standard strength alcohol (not too much!), herbal smokes (I can give advice on this if wanted; ask in the comments), certain preparations such as valerian for sleep, dandelion and burdock soft drinks, or a local holiday or a day out with a friend, family member or even on your own if you are that sort of person.

When it all gets too much

That is all well and good, but what about when the anxiety and stress is so great that we simply can’t cope? Should we then get medical advice, seek admission into a psychiatric ward and resort to powerful psychoactive medications such as clopixol or SSRIs?

Certainly advice from doctors and nurses can be helpful, and indeed is often far preferable to advice from misguided friends and family or the infamous “Google Doctor.”

However, though the advice is useful, be aware that modern doctors do not take the Hippocratic Oath and are, in fact, heavily influenced and subsidised by private drug companies.

Medication should be avoided, though the value of good counselling should never be underestimated. In preference, though, seek a Christian counsellor who holds strongly to the traditional Protestant tradition unless you are comfortable with Orthodoxy (the Eastern and Oriental Orthodox Churches are far better and more aware about mental illness than Western Churches.)

In Conclusion

To sum up, try to nip any anxiety in the bud. It is unavoidable, but try not to let it build up.

If it does start building up then make minor lifestyle changes (a little extra exercise, a little less fat and sugar). Take good herbal remedies if necessary. Don’t worry about minor addictions.

If severe anxiety develops, seek medical advise but be aware that doctors are often misguided themselves.

My Testimony of Enduring Hope

[I wrote this a while back, before my time in the psychiatric ward. I have edited it somewhat before posting here.]


I shared on another blog my Testimony of Pain. I do not feel proud about sharing that, nor of the feelings I had when I wrote it. My Lord Jesus Christ told me that if a man sets his hand to the plough and then looks back he is unworthy of his Lord. I did need to pray regarding my looking back at that pain as written in the midst of it, because it brought back that pain in a way which my Lord has advised me that I should not be so foolish so as to do.

Yet I did look back. And so, if Jesus’s words are indeed True – and He is the Way, the Truth and the Life and cannot lie – then I am unworthy of Him, even now. But I did not seek Him nor choose to follow Him because I thought I was worthy of Him, but because I knew I wasn’t. And that has not changed, and neither has His eternal love for me. Yet sharing that Testimony of Pain was necessary for you.

Why did my mother conceive me, carry me to full term and then push me out of her womb? I do not know. Why did I make so many mistakes, commit so many sins, that I could not bear to see myself in the mirror? I do not know. Why did I go insane for twenty five years? I do not fully know. Why did my Nan’s heart pills not kill me? I do not know. Why did I consider my money better spent on several pints rather than buying a new belt before trying to hang myself on a tree? I do not know.

But now? I know that my Lord died for me. And I know He did it because He loves me, and has loved me since before the creation of the world. And I know that I am exceeding glad. I am grateful that he ensured, however he may have performed it, that I did not leave this Earth before I had found Him, not in word or in trying to follow a preacher or a particular church or faith, but find HIM. And now I have found Him, I love Him. And I thank Him that I have come to love Him because He first loved me.

I have joy immeasurable in my heart. Yet I still mourn, and mourn greatly. Yet now I mourn truly and no longer self-piteously. Yes, if I am honest sometimes I mourn for myself, too, but mostly I mourn because my Jesus has not broken His word to me yet and so I know He will keep true to His word in these present, perilous, last days of the last days (as I believe). After all, He is the Way, the Truth and the Life and He cannot break His word. Yet the mourning does not diminish the joy one jot, because I know that blessèd are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

This my my Testimony, and the Power of the Testimony of the saints shall be in large degree the Power which overthrows the wicked ruler of this age, though it is the Blood of the Lamb which is the means by which forgiveness for sin and the salvation in Christ is gained.

And I am not wise. For if I were I would have learnt my lessons as a child and not as an ageing man. Yet I know enough to know that wicked ruler is not pleased with what I now do. And so, knowing that his time is short, he will attack all those he sees who resist and reject his evil ways. And I cannot hope to be exempt from his attention. Yet I trust that Christ is able to keep me.

Yet I count as joy my portion in the sufferings of Christ, for:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside the still waters, He restores my soul, He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, For You are with me, Your rod, and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou annoint my head with oil, My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, And I shall dwell in the House of the Lord, Forever.
Psalm 23

My Testimony of Pain

[I wrote this testimony of pain on my birthday, mid-July 2018. It was a raw expression of how I felt at that moment. Some historical references may not be fully accurate but were as I remembered them at that moment. I have not edited it except for correction of spelling and grammar and, where necessary, for censorship of filthy language and/or false witness.

This Testimony of Pain I share so that you, too, may know you are not alone in your deep suffering and that perhaps, one day, you may find that blesséd relief which only truly finding Jesus can bring.]

My Day of Mourning.

Today I am 45 years old. I turned 45 at around 2pm local time. It is a day everyone expects me to celebrate, to have joy and to find blessings in the fact I am a year older. I do not fear nor regret growing older. I have no fear of agedness and my fear of death is quickly diminishing. But I do not celebrate.

Why? Why, people, do you want me to be the centre of attention? Why? What have I done to you that you want me to revel in some pride in getting to be born in the first damn place? Maybe it was actually my choice to enter my Mum’s womb? Maybe I did choose to be born into that womb. Maybe the pain and heartache I caused my Mum all those years actually was my fault on every level? She wanted a normal child. But I wasn’t normal as a baby and I am far from normal now.

You send me messages of encouragement. My Nan tries to encourage me with hope in her love and the writing in the card. But all I do is mourn.

I try. I try to see you, to meet up. I try to thank you. I try to remember that you are showing me love. I try to meet for a meal or some other traditional way of rejoicing. But I mourn. Each and every card brings pain and the presents make me feel let down and then feel even more pain because I am so ungrateful. This is my day of mourning.

Curse the Day!

I could curse the day I was born. But hey! Wednesday’s Child is already the Child of Woe. Why curse the day any more? I could curse the womb that bore me. But I put my Mum through enough pain already.

Why is the greatest memory of my childhood my pride at taking a marrow to church and giving it to God? And all the while I sat there in judgement of the other kids who couldn’t be bothered and simply got their Mum to buy a tin of peas from Tesco’s? Why did everyone think I was aloof? These kids are weird, Mum! I can play. I can do that. But they don’t feel properly!

Why? Why didn’t the measles kill me? I’m told it could be fatal but all I did was have strange dreams in my sickbed for days. Why? When both my lungs had collapsed and without help I would have suffocated? Why? Why! Why did you put my lungs back up again?

Why have I hurt you so much? Why do I still do?

Why didn’t Nan’s heart pills work? Did I not take enough? Why? Why? Why did my belt break as I hung from that tree and all I ended up with was a cop car picking me up as I jumped in front of another car? Why when I took the paracetamol overdose did I go to A&E? Why?

Why? They told me that just follow Jesus and He will give you peace and joy. I am. I do not have peace and I do not have joy. Has Jesus let me down? Have I let Him down? Do I know Him at all?

Why? When I see something others do not my sister orchestrates a show down and the family falls apart? Why did my niece admire me so much that she thought mental illness might be a good way to deal with her pain?

Am I such a tramp that people really have to offer me £5 notes as I await my taxis? Do the taxi drivers really have to open their windows when I enter their car? I know. I need a bath. It’s a big thing, though, isn’t it?

This is my day of mourning.

People wonder why mental health freaks do not open up more? It is because we know the pain. We want you to experience it a bit. We will play with, manipulate you, strike fear in your hearts and load guilt trips upon you. But we will never let you know how we really feel. We can cope with this. You could not.

I am 45 years old today. I know many, and some very personally, like Lenny who I gave lip-kisses to because we thought it would be a fun thing to do in front of bigots – and, besides, I loved him. They are not here on earth now. And I have no guarantee they are in heaven. They are gone. I remain.

Thrive? B**locks. I cannot thrive. I survive. I will continue to survive. That’s my best. And if my best is not good enough for you then please, do not even +1 my posts or smile at me in the street. You can’t kid a kidder, they say in AA.

When you see the world as it is, even if only through a glass darkly, why do people think you are no longer close to Jesus? Why do they still insist that everything is better now than it was in the past? “You’ve never had it so good!” goes the advertising and propaganda slogans. Why can’t Jesus come back soon? It is my earnest prayer that He does because my pain is nothing compared to the child with his leg blown off and the bread he just bought is covered in blood. The homo who gets stabbed with a switch knife up the anus because the preacher was particularly fiery and “right on” that day? The raghead who has his apartment raided and all the writings of Mohammed and Ali are removed for future investigation? My niece’s boyfriend who is abused because he is not “British” and we have voted to leave the EU? The dead millions killed by the CIA and MI6 operations? The people in Hiroshima and Nagasaki who have extra bits in their bodies? The Jews who think the perfect response to the Holocaust is to abuse Palestinian kids and call Mary a whore in the graffiti on church walls? You know what my American and British friends? If you call this the least violent and least suffering age on earth I would suggest that you widen your reading material. Seriously.

This is my day of mourning. I mourn. For me. For others. For you. But I will survive. And as for me, I will serve the Lord.

Maranatha!

(The shared song is important. As a Christian-influenced band the lyrics are perhaps best heard as a conversation between the protagonist and Jesus.)

My Immortal – Evanescence
(From the album Fallen. The CD sleeve contained the words from the songwriter: “Thank you Jesus. All that I have left is yours.”)