Lisa Rumpel recalls how she was helped through her initial bout with mental illness by someone who was a lighthouse for her on stormy days. (BCC photo)
This issue we introduce a new monthly column, The Resilient Catholic, by Lisa Rumpel, a mental health advocate, writer, and speaker. Almost 15 years ago, Lisa experienced psychosis and two manic episodes. After several doctors’ appointments she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder type 2. Lisa says although she has bipolar disorder, it does not define her. Her passion is to shed light on the journey from languishing with mental illness to flourishing with mental health and faith helping her to live her best life. She is an administrative assistant at the Catholic Independent Schools of the Vancouver Archdiocese.
Summer makes dreams of spending time at the beach in salty air with sandy feet a reality. On the rocky beach at Lighthouse Park, I notice changes to the wooden dock. And yet the lighthouse remains the same.
When I was first ill with bipolar disorder, I remember someone who was a lighthouse for me on stormy days. For one month I was confined in a psychiatric ward with many other patients.
During the day, I was bored, fatigued, and longing to be well. With only TV, magazines and meals to occupy my time, the hours dragged on. Flipping through Today’s Parent and Style magazine did not entertain me for long. My family visited me often, bringing me hugs and a dose of well needed laughter.
When I was struggling to be well, I came to treasure moments in nature much more than I had before. Short, 15-minute walks made the hospital garden with its stone path and few rose bushes a place of solace for me. The nurse’s aide who accompanied us was open to chat with me about my various ideas for life after the hospital. She was a bright shining light of hope.
Every afternoon I looked forward to our visits in the garden. Not only was it a chance to leave the hospital ward, it was an opportunity to trust in the Lord’s healing mercy. Her smile filled the room as she invited anyone interested to “escape” for a while and breathe in the fresh air. She had a peacefulness about her that calmed my nerves. Our conversation was always light but could deepen in an instant. After a couple of weeks, I wanted to be like her, study her profession, and share the same joy for life.
I still seek out gardens and wild open spaces to clear the mind and unwind. Every summer my family and I find time to relax by the ocean. Hearing waves crash, sea gulls call, and wind in the trees transports me to carefree happiness. The salty scent of seaweed and the peachy warm sunsets are worth crossing the border to experience. If the weather permits, we gather around a campfire singing songs and roasting marshmallows.
In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus speaks about being salt of the earth and light of the world. Without salt there is no flavour. Without light a town on a hill can be hidden. This lovely lady had both. The memory of her name escapes me, but these words from Scripture soak in like summer sunshine and salty air.
Let us be salty and bright. Our presence to others – the nurse’s aide to a patient – can bring faith to a forlorn soul. I will always remember her smile and readiness to listen in my time of turmoil.
Now, an ocean swim will be a great reminder to stay salty, and when I gaze up at the stars from my campsite, they’ll encourage me to be bright.
Follow me on Instagram (@resilientlisa)
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