Mention of suicidal ideation

Seasons of Change

/ Nicole Bartell / 2 Comments

(Trigger warning: mentions of suicide)

This morning, the thermometer said 67 degrees. That was a call I could not ignore. I made my coffee, threw on a long-sleeved tee (not quite cold enough for a sweater yet, unfortunately), and made my way outside to my Adirondack rocker. The squirrels seemed even busier than usual, scurrying in the trees. I imagined them frantically preparing for this sudden change of weather. The birds were singing, my chimes were ringing in the breeze, and I sat and rocked thinking about the change of seasons.

Change used to terrify me. In January of 2011, I was looking back at a year that had shifted my life drastically. I had lost a group of people I had considered “family” for over ten years, and everything I thought I knew and believed was torn down to the foundation of Jesus. I did not yet see that as the perfect place to be. I just felt insecure, unsteady, and lost. That January was the first year I asked Dad for a word to represent what was ahead. His answer: “Change.” I was not happy with that response. I didn’t like change to begin with, but I truly felt I had just gone through enough to last me a lifetime. I begged Him for another word, but “Change” was the one on repeat.

That year, my mom’s house burned down, causing her to move away from me for almost two years. Now I can see that I felt abandoned by her again but at the time, I just felt lost. I started counseling that summer, and a whole flood of emotions I had been burying for decades overwhelmed me, and my counselor moved away before I could even begin to process all I was feeling. Feeling abandoned by a second person, I shut down rather than pursue getting more help. I felt tossed around by life, and I made an agreement that I did NOT like change.

As I pondered all that this morning, I thought about all the seasons that have come since. That year, as difficult as it was, brought the very first steps I ever took toward recovery. I wouldn’t actually pursue “recovery” for another seven years, but I took that first step. Every journey begins with one step. The years after 2011 brought even more change:

  • My sister-in-law taking her life in 2013 led me to go on antidepressants because I didn’t want to do the same thing to my son.
  • A severe car accident in 2014 irrevocably changed my son’s life, health, and personality as well as the dynamics of our family.

  • I started Celebrate Recovery in 2018, thinking I was going to get help with a pornography addiction I had struggled with since I was twelve only to find it was just a coping mechanism to avoid all the pain I had suppressed for most of my life.
  • I found a new family at CR, one that taught me that I was enough just as I am, that I didn’t have to perform to be accepted or loved.
  • I lost my mom in 2021 from a massive stroke.
  • I participated in starting a CR in our home church only to have the internal pressure to perform perfectly, along with the cracks it revealed in my marriage, cause us to close a year and a half later. I felt like a failure.
  • My precious aunt, whom I had cared for after my mom died, died only three years later.
  • My only child moved out on his own, shifting my role again. Who was I supposed to be now?
  • Before I could even begin to process that question, I was shot, and my whole life turned upside down.

Seeing it all written down here, I realize why I was so resistant to change in the past. Change meant I was out of control. I felt insecure when things happened that I wasn’t expecting or situations that altered the trajectory of my life. I had spent my entire life, from a very young age, just trying to feel safe in a world that offered less and less of it. Then, when I was shot, I realized I will never be truly safe in this life. That was probably the most unsettling realization of all. If there is no safety, what is the point? I went through a month or so where I just really wanted to go home … to go be with Jesus, where I would be safe forever. But it wasn’t time for that, so what should I do now that I know there is no true safety in this world? I find it in the only place there is to find it. I find safety in knowing who I am and WHOSE I am because that can never be taken away.

Hindsight allows me to see that those drastic seasons of change in my life, as difficult and painful as they were, also brought greater and greater freedom, love, assurance, and hope I could not have imagined at the time. Now, I renounce that agreement I made about hating change and remind myself of what it has brought into my life. I can see the faithfulness of my Dad who promised that He would work everything out for my good in His time. I am recording these things in my Book of Remembrance so that I have it at my fingertips. I don’t have to struggle to remember when the next wind of change blows and I feel tossed. I can pick up my book and look through my personal “stones” of remembrance that remind me that Dad is the same as He has always been. He is unchanging. And He is the same God who was there for me in the past, is still with me in the present, and will be there in the future.

“The LORD is my light and my salvation – whom should I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life – whom should I dread? When evildoers came against me to devour my flesh, my foes and my enemies stumbled and fell. Though an army deploys against me, my heart will not be afraid; though a war breaks out against me, I will still be confident. I have asked one thing from the LORD; it is what I desire: to dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, gazing on the beauty of the LORD and seeking Him in His temple. For He will conceal me in His shelter in the day of adversity; He will hide me under the cover of His tent; He will set me high on a rock. Then my head will be high above my enemies around me; I will offer sacrifices in His tent with shouts of joy. I will sing and make music to the LORD. LORD, hear my voice when I call; be gracious to me and answer me. My heart says this about You: “Seek His face.” LORD, I will seek Your face. Do not hide Your face from me; do not turn Your servant away in anger. You have been my helper; do not leave me or abandon me, God of my salvation. Even if my father and mother abandon me, the LORD cares for me. Because of my adversaries, show me Your way, LORD, and lead me on a level path. Do not give me over to the will of my foes, for false witnesses rise up against me, breathing violence. I am certain that I will see the LORD’s goodness in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart be courageous. Wait for the LORD.” (Psalm 27 CSB)

Is Change a Bad Word?

/ Nicole Bartell / 1 Comment

In 2011, my word for that year was “change”. I can still remember driving to work that January morning, talking to Father about what word He would give me to represent the coming year and hearing that word spoken to my heart. I was NOT happy! Firstly, I felt that I had already gone through a great deal of hard, life-altering changes the previous couple of years, and I dreaded there being more. I avoided, as much as possible at that point in my life, the pain of living in reality. I was still in so much denial, and I truly wanted to escape the reality of my situation, frequently at any cost. The desire to avoid reality drove me back to the past hang-ups and habits of control, food, and pornography in an attempt to shove the pain back into a box where I didn’t have to deal with it. Later that year, something happened that changed our family drastically. I couldn’t escape it. The burnt husk of what remained was a constant reminder that my life had altered. I was also trying to help an eight year old figure out how to navigate this new reality. This was the catalyst that drove me to take my very first steps toward recovery. I sought help. I began to see the high, impenetrable wall I had built around my heart to keep people out and to keep me safe from harm. I also began to realize that the wall I had erected for my protection also locked in all my pain and darkness, and that I wasn’t allowing the Healer to access any of it so I was stuck with it. Opening the gate allowed Jesus and His light in, but it also let all that pain I had barricaded within begin to pour out. I was overwhelmed. It was hard for me to cling to the Scripture Father had given me that year to go with the dreaded word “change”:

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.“ Isaiah 43:2 NIV

It felt exactly like a flood, and I was certain I would drown. At that time, I was trying to work through it on my own. My counselor had moved, and in my codependency I didn’t want to burden anyone else with my problems. The darkness was so great during this time that I often contemplated suicide, just so the pain would end. I couldn’t seem to stuff it back down. It demanded to finally be acknowledged. I made the choice to go on anti-depressants because I didn’t want to leave my still young child. The pills took the edge off, enough that I could somewhat function, but I was still in a lot of emotional agony, so my acting out increased in an attempt to shove it all back down. That continued for the next few years until Father finally led me to Celebrate Recovery where I learned that I didn’t need to go through it alone, but that the only way I could truly be free of it was to to walk through it.

I could not have imagined back in 2011 all the changes that lay before me. However, change became a little less scary over time. As I learned to accept the things I couldn’t change and sought courage to change what I could (me), and as I learned to stay in the moment, one day at a time, “change” became easier to bear. I’m no longer dealing with it on my own. Besides my sponsor, mentors, and a supportive accountability team, recovery brought another change in my life. I became even closer to my Father. He began to show me what a good and perfect Dad looked like, and I learned I could trust where He led. Psalm 27:10 (LB) says, “Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close.” I came to experience just how true that is. 

That being said, my initial reaction to change on the horizon is still fear. Change isn’t bad, not if I am following my heavenly Dad, but it still means some discomfort. Change fundamentally means that things will be different, whether it be in circumstances, people, or even me. But growth means change, and I want to continue to grow in recovery, in my relationships with God, myself, and others, and in my awareness of my calling. I’ve heard many times that if you pray for patience, God will put you in situations where you get to practice it. I’m finding that to be true about a lot of things. If I want to grow, He is going to allow my faith and my recovery to be stretched so that I can begin to practice, growing organically into this new area. I think back on my son learning to do new things: walking, math, reading (which as a dyslexic was especially difficult for him). Each of those things presented him with a new and often uncomfortable challenge. As his parent, it was my job to support and encourage him to keep practicing, knowing that as he practiced, he would get better until he could do it well. I didn’t berate him every time he failed. I realized he was still learning. When he mastered one thing, the next challenge would come: from walking to running to riding a bike, from addition to multiplication to algebra, from phonics (which he struggled with) to trying multiple new things until we finally figured out he needed to read and hear it at the same time, and the even harder things of life such as learning to heal and trust again after being hurt and abandoned. Father used this picture to show me how He wanted to love and support and encourage me through the scary transitions I’m still making toward growth in this life. He’s my Good Dad, encouraging me to get back up and try again. The question was asked in my Bible study this morning, “What changes, if any, are you sensing the Lord leading you toward?” (Lysa TerKeurst, Good Boundaries and Goodbyes). In pondering that question and feeling a little overwhelmed by the answer, this post is what came out as I was journaling. And this is why I record spiritual markers, “stones of remembrance”, to help me to recall Father’s faithfulness in the past to give me courage and strengthen my faith in the present to take the next step moving into my future … whatever changes it may hold.