Just look at that picture. It looks awful now, but you should have seen it two years ago... I'll start at the beginning.
Three years ago, we repainted a few rooms in our house. The bathroom ceiling had been pretty "yucky" for a while, and I was keen to spruce it up. I was pretty sure the original paint was oil based, so I scrubbed it well with TSP (that really strong chemical that is supposed to strip off just about any grime from any surface), lightly sanded it, painted a high-stick primer which was guaranteed to kill mould over that, and then added two coats of ceiling paint. It took a couple of days to get through that process, and my arms were aching by the time I finally finished.
Then, three months later, we noticed that the ceiling paint was starting to peel over the bathtub. It started gradually and then sped up. At times there were great long rolls of peeling paint hanging off the ceiling.
We installed a ceiling fan (the contractor had to drill a hole through our brick wall in order to get the vent in properly, which cost us a small fortune). We bought a de-humidifier. We tried everything, but the ceiling still peeled. Eventually we decided to just leave it and let it come on its own.
I have to admit, this decision was partly precipitated by the fact that my husband died and I no longer had another person in the house who could look after at least half of the many responsibilities and duties that a house requires.
A few months ago God spoke to me about this ceiling as a metaphor for the journey of widowhood and the reality of mental health.
The ceiling was fine until we added the extra coat of paint. It couldn't sustain the weight and started to break down, showing the original faults underneath that had been hidden for years. The paint had never properly adhered to the original plaster. It was only when that new layer was added that the issue was revealed.
Mental health is the same. One extra element of pressure is all it takes to upset the delicate balance of the brain. Depression can be low grade for years, and then a crisis, trauma or sustained period of stress can push it to severe and life-threatening.
And then the paint starts to gradually peel away in layers. In this case, it has taken three years to reach the point it's at now. But it will still be a while before the surface is ready to be finished.
And this is like me. My surface has broken down. My life is peeling away in layers. In one moment it crashed completely, falling apart and never to be repaired. We can never repair this ceiling. There is no choice but to remove it and then start again. The paint is very brittle and it would be hard work to remove it, so I am just letting the process happen on its own. Gradually, piece by piece, the paint is coming off.
Every now and then I take a few moments to rub paint off and clear it away. The rest of the time, I just leave it and it slowly works.
I noticed that the mould has returned, too. A staff member at my local paint shop told me that the mould was probably locked in the paint and has been "eating" at the new paint all this time. The spores have only had more to feed on, rather than being suppressed by the layer of primer. Sigh....
It is a long, slow job and it often feels overwhelming to me. I wish I could look up at a lovely ceiling, all complete. But right now it is in process, moving slowly in the right direction.
I understand that I have to be careful about further mould issues. This is a big worry. I need to spray regularly with a bleach solution and I haven't been doing that. This time of year there seems to be more than normal amounts of interior moisture, so I have a de-humidifier going all the time.
Slowly, my old life is peeling away and we're stripping back to the original surface. Some of who I was before the girls came home is returning. I am becoming aware of elements of myself that were not apparent during my marriage. This is not a bad thing. It's just a reality - when two become one, some of each of them has to be yielded in order to make the union work.
I don't want to have all kinds of mould coming out of my soul. I want to be clean, fresh and ready to be renewed. I want to be whole at the end of this, despite the reality that half of who I am and who I was has been blown off as if by an explosive.
My ceiling is slowly becoming less horrific and more pleasant. I see that happening within me as well. My emotional ups and downs are lessening. I am still carrying a lot of pain - and probably always will - I seem more "okay" on the outside to most people. Even those that know me can't see the things inside me. I don't carry it out of me as much. But it's still all there.
I know that it will be a lot of work to refinish my ceiling when it's ready. I have to prime, cover it over with some drywall compound, treat it for mould, and then finally paint. I dread it, because it's overhead and will be physically demanding. It will take time to get through all the steps, and I don't know how to do some of them. I've never worked with drywall compound in my life.
But there will be a new, fresh ceiling at the end of it all. It will look exactly the same as it did just after I painted it, but it will be completely new and (hopefully) more durable, more thorough and more complete.
I am praying that the same will be true of me: ready to build a new life, grateful to God for all the lessons He has taught me through this horrible season of loss and filled with greater compassion and empathy for others who have to walk this path.
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