Thank You, God, for the Strength You Give Me

It has been a rough few months for me. As it usually is in life, when we think we can’t take it anymore, we believe we have been pushed beyond our limits; then we get the best opportunity to discover our true strength.

I used to be quite active on various social media but recently almost disappeared. I received a few messages from my followers, especially on Instagram and Twitter, asking if I was all right. Thank you very much for your warm words and inspiring messages; they brightened my days and made me smile. I decided to write this article and share with you what has been happening lately in my life.

George’s mental health deteriorated to the point that he couldn’t function anymore. For those who don’t know George, he is an extremely sceptical and pessimistic person. He will find danger in every situation and something vicious about every single person. As a result, he suffers from severe anxiety and depression (he has been professionally diagnosed), and it got to a point where sometimes he couldn’t get out of bed.

Monday, three weeks ago, he finally got an appointment with a psychiatrist, and I drove to the hospital with him (it was about 120 km away from my home). He didn’t want to be alone, so I was happy to support him. That day it was raining heavily, and roads flooded; the drive was difficult. I was under a lot of pressure, juggling work calls, emails and messages because the project l was working on was behind schedule. Nonetheless, I was glad I could support George, and also I found a moment for myself, and I took Daisy for a walk in this new town and intriguing to us park. We had fun. Regardless of how much pressure we are under, we have to make sure we look after our mental health.

The next day, Tuesday, I had to drive to the city for work. In the afternoon I met my friend, and we went for a walk. It was a wonderful catch-up, but also she informed me I needed to move out of my city accommodation because they were turning the long term stay accommodation back into a motel. Oh well, I would need to either book a room on a weekly basis or find some other accommodation, but whichever way I chose, it would be more expensive for me.

Later in the evening, George called. He had a panic attack and had to call an ambulance. However, because we had guns on the farm, the ambulance didn’t come. George wanted me to go home, but there was no way I could drive that night; it was 9 pm, I was exhausted, and the next morning I had to be in the city. I promised I would come home the next day.

Wednesday was crazy busy at work, and I was fighting severe migraine (lately, I’m having migraines very often). But not everything was bad. I managed to catch up with John, and we had lovely lunch together. It was after 8 pm when I finally could leave the city and drive home. On the way, I got tailgated and intimidated by a truckie, but when I tried to escape him, l got caught driving 67 kph in a 60kph zone and ended up with a speeding ticket. When I arrived home, George was already asleep.

Thursday, after sleeping less than 4 hours, I need to start work. George came and was relieved he wasn’t alone. He had a doctor’s appointment, so I needed to drive him to town because he wasn’t able to drive a car himself. l also got to know that Wednesday cops came, and George had to give away the weapons (mental health issues & guns do not mix). On the farm, I need a gun (for many reasons; chasing away wild dogs, which can be a danger to my animals or even myself, is one of them). Guns are pretty expensive, so I didn’t want to lose them. When I was in town, I started the procedures to acquire a gun permit and get the guns back. While I was with the cops sorting out these issues, my boss rang me and informed me she needed to talk to me. She called me again a bit later and told me something like, “I’m sorry to add to your stress, but at the end of May, your work contract will be terminated”. Later that day (or was it already night), there was a town hall at work, and it turned out that the company I was contracting with faced some challenges and needed to restructure to reduce costs drastically. As a result, many people lost their jobs.

Friday morning, after 3 hours of sheep, I needed to start work again. A bit later, I was about to go for my usual walk when George got another panic attack. “Where are you going! How long will you be away?”- he asked me in a petrified voice. “George, I’m only going to the end of the road and back. I’m barely leaving the farm, just walking on the other side of the fence. I’ll be back in 30 min,” I replied calmly. “The whole 30 min?! What if something happens to me? Who will help me?” George was almost out of his mind. “Look, you sit here, on your favourite chair in the carport, have your morning coffee, and before you know, I’ll be back”,- I said to him, smiling. One of the most difficult aspects of dealing with people who have a mental health issues is that you must not get angry or upset. You have to stay calm, even if all your inside is screaming because the situation is absolutely ridiculous. These are the times when walking plays a vital role for me, walking or running. I take Daisy, and we go for a walk. During my walks, I just switch off like with a flick of a button. It’s only me and Daisy and the beautiful surrounding, blissful nature. All my issues and troubles stay home.

Later that day, I went to do some mowing — also an activity that helps me to keep my mental health in good shape. I was mowing not far away from the houses so that George could see me. When I came home, George was angry. “Are you trying to break some record in mowing?” — he said angrily. I looked at him, perplexed. “You were away for two hours!” he said, and in his voice, I could hear that he was more hurt than angry. I was exhausted, and I knew his behaviour wasn’t rational, but… He is ill, and there is no point in getting angry and arguing with him. Understanding is much more helpful.

Saturday, I still didn’t know how to solve my issue with the guns. It could take six months before l get a permit, and keeping the rifles in storage would cost me $11 per week. The last hope was my neighbors, the ones who trust their animals in my care when they go away. The cops told me that someone with a gun permit would be allowed to store the guns for me. I don’t like asking for help, so I felt really awkward. I sent a message asking if I could come over and discuss something with them, but I o mention what. There is so much stigma around mental health that talking face to face seems more appropriate than just a random message. They replied immediately, and in the early afternoon, we met. I explained my situation, and my neighbours were very supportive and understanding. They immediately agreed to help, pick up the guns and store them for me for as long as I needed. We had a great chat, and it felt good to have someone to talk to, someone who understood.

On the way home, I felt happy, happy I had someone to talk to, someone who understood. I was grateful I had good neighbours, I was grateful I was in good mental and physical health, thankful for the place where I live, and even for the gorgeous weather. I looked at the sky, thinking to myself, “thank you, God. Thank you for the strength you give me, thank you for the neighbours, thank you for all your blessings.”