Re Re: "God Loves You" - July 2018 vs. July 2019

"Trauma isn't something we ought to take lightly. Not even I know the nature of his past, but it's best for us and for him to avoid it for the time being. There will be a proper time for him to tell us everything."... In his eyes, I see he's still disquieted. But behind it, there's a well of fire and lightning. A silent strength in his soul is longing to be acknowledged and believed in. This kid's got something special, and his decision to join our quest will be the first step in his journey of self-discovery.

- Tarento
The Epic of Marindel: Chosen, page 152
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Back in July of last year, I was going through hell in the throes of my illness. The medication I was on at the time had been prescribed under the pretense of a misdiagnosis, which caused it to only worsen my symptoms. I was in agony. Everything hurt, day in and day out, and all I could do was rage and cry, drinking myself into numbness to have some relief.

Of course, it all dissolved further into a destructive cycle. I began to hear voices in my head, something I thought was only in movies and only pertained to the worst kind of crazy. But yet I heard them loud and clear, voices that were not my own clawing for my attention, persuading me to hurt myself, hurt those around me, and to cease the beat in my chest. I avoided my counselor's advice, skirting around the sessions, filling the time with meaningless talk. She was concerned about the voices, the persistence of the symptoms, and the medications that were obviously not working.

Push came to shove and I was finally matched with a psychiatrist, who quickly nipped my pain in the bud by overhauling my medications. I was weaned off of one, started a new one, and the dosage amounts were changed. Of course, all of those changes was painful - my body and brain floundered in the adjustment period, causing rapid cycling through mania and depression.

Finally, finally, finally, after over 12 years, stability began to ebb into my life. The chemicals in my brain began to flow, correcting the imbalance that bipolar causes.

I began to sense a type of freedom. Freedom from the chains of the voices, suicidal thoughts, depression spells, sleepless nights, and anxiety-ridden hours.

Now, over a year later, I have never felt better in my life. I am healthy mentally and physically, yet my spiritual health still is weak.

Over the course of the past year, from that July until now, I have noticed my dependence on God slowly fading. Since I now had the abilities to function due to the medications and the strides I was making with strengthening my body, I began to harden myself to needing God. I didn't want to go back to feeling so helpless that I needed to beg for scraps of grace, a shred of peace.

I already had my temper tantrums, and I wanted to believe I could move forward by simply placing a hold on the need to ask God for help.

How foolish that was.
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Recently, the Spirit has been chipping away at me. Quiet nudges, goads, and pokes here and there.

I felt them, yet continued to steel myself, looking the other way. Gritting my teeth in annoyance.

And then suddenly, the pressure points were not just pricked, but punctured.

Cracks began to spider across my facade.

Clarity began to form.

At the beginning of this year, in the wake of a year that felt like it was encased in complete darkness, I made a vow that my theme this year would be "light." One of my friends saw this pledge and sent me a beautiful gift of a silver key necklace with the word "Illumine" engraved on it.

To light up. To enlighten.

New Year's Day came and went. I proudly stuck to upholding 'light' as my guiding word.

And then my beloved kitty suddenly died. My Master's program got overwhelmingly discouraging. I had to end a toxic friendship that ripped out my heart and took many other people I loved out of my life as they turned their backs on me. My mom found out she had cancer, which God mercifully helped her catch and remove. More personal problems filtered in, as did doubts. Fears. Anger.

I kept turning from God. Sundays were just thoughtless motions. My prayers were just demands, if the prayers were even there.

And then the Spirit finally caught me just the other day. And even louder just yesterday.

"Why are you denying yourself the blessings, the companionship, and the love? Why are you asking yourself where they are, when they are sitting right in front of you, and you keep turning away? Why are you hiding? Why are you doubting? Why are you forgetting the very meaning of your name? Amanda, you are "worthy of love." You are not a failure. You are not a glitch. You are not meaningless. You have a purpose. You are unfinished, but you are not an abandoned project. Let me show you. Please."
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After a rough and wild week, I was in a car towards San Diego on July 13th to see my future brother-in-law in the wake of the publication of his first book.

When we sat down for his writer's association meeting, I groaned inwardly when I was realized this was going to be a long session, and I would be hearing from strangers about projects and stuff I probably didn't even care about.

And then they all began to speak.

My writer's heart skipped a beat. I began to truly listen. And I began to cry.

During a short writing exercise, I began to pour my heart out to my father-in-law, my tears and words a tumbling mess. I soaked up the words and wisdom from these people I didn't know. I felt my writing spark reignite.

The next day at the book signing was just as magical and full of blessings. I continued reading the book on the way home, forced to come to a screeching halt due to an overwhelming series of emotions. The stubborn queen on the pages - just a girl toting her earthly crown - was me. Her doubts were mine. Her questions the same.

Her horrible actions a shadow of my own.

But of course, the story got better, as stories usually do. Especially when it's the Story.

I broke.

I finally surrendered. I heard His voice.
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Ask, seek, knock. The sermon on Sunday, yesterday. If you seek Him, you will find Him. He does not withhold good gifts from His children. He will not intentionally bring harm to you. You may not think what He is doing is good, but you must be patient. Sit quietly at His feet, and wait. Goodness is coming for sure.

I personally would love to know how I'm supposed to go about saving the realm when there's an evil Serpent in my way that I have no power against, yet somehow have some kind of power against. My mind is bogged down by the weight of the paradox.
I ask Jake, "Why doesn't it bother you?"
"I trust the Great King."
His answer is so simple, it's offensive. I press, "Yes, of course, but there's more right?"
"Nope," Jake shrugs. "That's all there is to it."
"What do you mean? I trust the Great King too, but I still want to know everything. I have to know as soon as possible." 
"I don't doubt your loyalty to the Great King," Jake replies, "but do you really trust him?" 
I'm about to say 'Yes, that's what I just said,' but a lump in my throat causes me to pause.

-The Epic of Marindel: Chosen, page 162

Amanda, do you really trust Me?

Amanda, do you really believed you are loved?

Amanda, do you really believe there is goodness coming your way?

Amanda, do you trust Me?

Amanda...have I ever truly let you down?

I want to.

I want to. 

I want to.

I want to.

And no. Never. You never have.

I hear You.

I'm listening, Lord.

I want to reclaim my true crown, the gift from You.

I am Your child. I hear Your discipline.

I'm coming back to You.