I can tend towards perfectionism, which is especially odd since I once declared myself “The Great All American Underachiever” in my youth.

This perfectionism spills over into many areas of my life, and if I can’t be perfect at something, then I don’t want to do it.

Earlier I wrote about how my mental illness manifests and how I am weary and tired. I am, but I think maybe this experience has been a teaching moment for me spiritually.

When we are in pain, we are less receptive to the kindness of others, and the kindness of God. Except for Jesus who bore great suffering and remained gentle.

Maybe that priest was right-the one who said I should stop being a victim.Conversion story post. I didn’t feel like a victim because I take responsibility for my actions, but I did feel like God was letting mental illness happen to me and it didn’t feel conducive to spiritual growth so I lashed out and was difficult.

While I will never be cured of my condition, mad seasons come and go. If I’m feeling unwell, it is acceptable and okay to miss mass. But, if I decide that I just don’t want to spend time with God because I want to do other things more-or if I am avoiding God, then that harms my relationship with God, and I shouldn’t do that. I should treat my relationship with God with care instead of detachment. An earlier post wrote about my conversion-and Buddhism.

My maternal grandmother, the saintly one, always attended church from what I can remember, but maybe, she too, took time to recover from her mad seasons. Both of my grandmothers had mental health challenges. I seem to have inherited my maternal grandmother’s visions and scenarios and my paternal grandmother’s Bipolar. The PTSD I have seems unique to me in this regard. My paternal grandmother died by suicide, and I met her at her funeral when I was about 7 years old. There have been two suicides in my family on both sides.

Growing up, I was always sad that my paternal grandmother was somewhat of an unknown. I didn’t even know her name until I went home last year and reconnected with my dad’s sister. As I learned more about her, I felt great pain and wished she had the treatments I have had.

Maybe God doesn’t allow mad seasons to punish me. Maybe it is just part of my inherited human condition. Maybe God tries to help me when I feel good and have elevations-to remind me that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Like the Third Day song that played in my head during a hospital stay.

Only, I have been ungrateful. I want to feel good all of the time. I want to excel all of the time, and I don’t want to have intrusions into my mind.

I think, what God is asking of me, is gentleness of spirit when I go through mad seasons and feel wounded and broken.

Forgive me if this post is a little less polished than it could be. I’ve been trying to accept imperfections. Additionally, I woke up at 0400 moments ago with a crushing headache. But instead of being pretty upset about it, I’ll just go and make a big Dazbog espresso coffee and my big cup of electrolytes, creatine and HMB.

I think the point of this post is to highlight that we often don’t feel God’s touch so when we do feel it, it can feel intense and amazing. In my case, I think I pull away from God and detach a lot so when God does lay his hands on me, I really feel it.

Maybe God’s real touch is like a gentle embrace. I had a vision about someone who gave me a hug and it upset me for days. It wasn’t a lustful hug. It was kind and reassuring. And it confused me and made me try not to look at that person or acknowledge them in my presence. I think I understand that scenario’s relevance now.

Perhaps spending time with God, in reading, prayer, meditation, and going to mass is supposed to feel like a gentle embrace. So, I will work on that.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you find meaning in your suffering that brings you closer to where you want to be.