Cheryl Reeves Writing – from my shelves of journals
Sharing from my many shelves of journals. The mostly biographical poetry and writing of an Australian Christian woman living with schizoaffective disorder.
I’m feeling a little lost. I’m searching for something in my relationship with God. I always thought it was possible but today I am not sure. It’s so much harder on medication.
At least I can search again. For so long the medication made it impossible to even look. Cas
How do I write words capable of entreating a King? Cas
I don’t know how to explain, or if it’s a good thing or not, but I have been having some amazing talks with God. Well, any conversation with God in this medicated life is amazing. I need God more than air. He challenges me and thrills and intrigues me. I love Him immensely. He is my everything.
Don’t ask me why but the movie Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is in my head: “Oh Chitty, You Chitty…Chitty Chitty Bang Bang we love you…” “Truly Scrumptious, Though we may seem presumptuous…” Is the Lord my Father or my suitor? These are the questions? Cas
There is so much I don’t know about myself. Things are different post hospital on medication. I am in a new place, where once again I look forward to going to bed in the hope I will catch a glimpse of the divine. Here’s hoping. Cas
I don’t know what scares me more? That God will answer when I pray or that he won’t? Either I’m alone or insane. Is God indwelling me and communicating with me or not? Am I alone? I want God and an existential, passionate relationship with Him. I need God! But that’s the thing though, am I making it up because I want it so badly? Cas
I long for the Rapture still, even on medication. There is an aching, longing, yearning, more than just hoping, that the Rapture will come. Still, I carve COME 4 ME on the cave walls of Heaven in the desperate hope, the God of mercy will send His Son Jesus Christ to Rapture all the church and rescue us from the tribulation to come. Cas
Lord, I am lonely. I long to be able to have deep and beautiful conversations with you. Medication makes me numb. I can’t feel you. I miss the existential love affair we used to have. Cas
I find being on medication is like having the inside of me, hollowed out. I wish I could go off medication and have deep and meaningful thoughts and interactions with God, myself and the universe. The inside of me feels so empty.
I am lonely for my imaginary friends. I don’t want to trigger my mental illness. I don’t want to be delusional and end up in the hospital again. But I also hate this emptiness, the silence, the loneliness. All my imaginary friends are gone, my mind palaces are rubble, and the white rabbit is so calm it’s gone to sleep. I haven’t seen Aslan for a year. Cas
Medicated Soul Cas Reeves 2019 Who am I here? To write these words And hold my breath at shadows? Is there still poetry In this medicated soul? Does God still love me Though I feel nothing? Nothing when I pray? No word jumps from the page. The scripture sits blank, Like cold porridge in my head. Does God still love me? Though I do not burn? Or even yearn? Does He understand, That medication dulls The sword that was my spirit Until the edge of my wits Is more ‘blunt butter knife.’ Then a scalpel To divide the soul and spirit? I offer God anew my words, My thoughts, dreams and desires. I put God first in all My longings and my hopes. I pray God’s grace Is greater than my illness.
Next comes medication.
In The Grey Cas Reeves 2012 The darkness and the light They just seem to intermingle. All is grey; all is mute, There’s no sunshine and no night. Beige and cream and soft blues, No black to take me home. Mornings and evenings But no midnight and no noon. I never see the sun Or the moon. Medicated to be calm Take a pill; it’s a charm. Go to the doctors, Get a needle in the arm. Do not think outside the circle It’s there to keep you sane. Do not feel, do not feel all your pain. Maybe twilight, maybe dawn, But never sunshine or night, Stay in the middle, Grey is right. Two plus two equals four no more, Do not say how much you’re hurting, Keep it all inside. Quiet child, quiet child, Find somewhere to hide. Do not let yourself be seen, Wrap your arms around your heart. In the grey, in the grey, Live dead in the day.
Cheryl Reeves Writing - from my shelves of journals 