One step at a time

Fourteen days and counting...

The last two weeks have been far less stressful or emotional than I had assumed they might be. Giving up my meds so far has been fine, though I know I still have a long way to go.

Interestingly, I thought the meds increased my weight, but since coming off them, I have put on weight - only a smidge mind you but enough that me, who has been on a fitness kick, notices.

I think I'm glad I have my walk/run routine, it clears my head and gives me a break from myself. I am fully aware that because I have the personality I do, I could turn the routine into an obsession, but I'm playing that carefully as well.

I'm looking forward to being completely free of meds, but at the same time am fully cognisant that if I need to I will jump back on board with them. My overthinking, over imaginative self can be chaos. As I have mentioned, it's anxiety that gets me, and that's how. My brain chatters non stop.

I am always interested to read other people's stories, and today read that Wil Wheaton (Star Trek, Big Bang theory, beer maker and nerd) recognised his own need for medicated stability. I had known it, but to re-read his story was encouraging.
http://www.nami.org/Template_itstime.cfm?Section=Its_Time&Template=/ContentManagement/ContentDisplay.cfm&ContentID=163694


I would urge that if you struggle, seek help. Don't think it will blow over or it'll be better after (insert whatever thing you think is holding you back from joy) happens. It might, it might not. Don't assume anything. Chances are more likely that you are prolonging finding help.

If you know, work with or live with a depressive, can I make some suggestions?

Don't tell them they look fine. (But you always look happy!)
Don't tell them they don't look depressed. (What does this look like anyway?)
Don't tell them they're doing well (if they obviously aren't)
Don't tell them they'll be okay in a few days.
Don't tell them they just need time out.
Don't tell them it's a sign of our busy lives.
Don't tell them they need more faith (ugh my least favourite comment, even if it may be true)
Don't tell them you know how they feel (even if you've been diagnosed depressed, we're all different)


Do listen to them.  I know, some people go on and on. They need to see someone professionally.. You need to help them see that. (Tough gig)
Do be honest without being hurtful. ('Yep, you could have handled that differently, but you didn't. So let's not overanalyse it, let's move forward. What do you wish you'd done that you can do next time?')
Do encourage them.
Do - just be there. At their low, they won't want to talk. As someone commented yesterday 'talking, that's when I hurt people the most'. So just be there.
Do learn their nonverbal language. People I know well ask me if I'm in my 'cave'. Recognising it without being patronising is great.
Do understand it isn't them against you. The sadness, anxiety or fear... It's against and about them.

While on one hand I would say 'allowing them to find their way out' is respectful, on the other hand, if you even remotely think the person isn't coping, seems sadder than usual or isn't responding as usual, get them extra help.
I have never been suicidal, so I can't speak from experience, but sometimes it's only hindsight that shows where the signals were missed. Just be aware.

If you're the praying sort, can I just encourage you to give them to God in your prayers. They don't need to know, just quietly place their name at the cross. Whenever they are on your mind, lift them to Him.

Depression is a major bummer. You aren't alone, and you can get help. Find your coping mechanism, it may be physical exercise, it may be gardening, it may be talking to a friend. Photography, writing, running, reading, art, craft... Whatever is your (healthy) release, push yourself to do it. On the days you have zero motivation, try that bit harder to push yourself. On your lowest day, following through may not make you feel better but at least your body or brain has had a workout.

Learn your triggers. I read an extraordinary amount. Internet, blogs, journals, books, you name it. But I can't read too many sad books consecutively. The times I have, I've found that life's 'real' sad moments magnify themselves. Real life, with its idiosyncrasies and uncertainties, becomes unbearable and frustrating. And the real people are the ones who bear the brunt of it. (I can't yell at book characters. Well I can, but it's pointless)
I can't watch the news if I've been reading too much news or journalism, as I become too cynical.
So I have learnt to guard myself. To monitor my reading and my interactions.

You need to learn to get on with people even if they bring out your worst, or are your trigger; they aren't responsible for your mood or your reaction, you are.
They are who they are, and not everyone finds you sparkling company either, so cut them some slack. Reducing your interactions with them without appearing (or being) rude can be hard work.

Don't beat yourself up about everything. My biggest failing. A counsellor once commented something like 'aah, you're one of those people who has to be perfect all the time. Sorry about that. There was only one person I know of in history who was perfect, and nobody liked Him. In fact they killed Him. On a cross. So, you still wanna be perfect?"
Let go of perfect. It doesn't exist, except in your imagination.

Look back on every day to find a glimmer of good in it. You will (maybe grudgingly) find it. It might just be that you made a cup of coffee without spilling it. Or that you had a shower. Grab hold of it.

And move one hour or one day ahead. One foot in front of the other. Be kind to yourself.

On a clear day ....

After about a dozen years of my morning ritual, I finally decided to stop taking my antidepressant.
I decided this ten months ago and discussed it with my doctor. Yep, that long ago.

She half jokingly said 'now you aren't planning on visiting poor orphans again or something else that might upset you?"
She knows me and the nature of the black dog, and knows that an unknown could trigger a relapse of stress. 

I looked ahead to my calendar, which while I wasn't looking, added a few things to my year, and I kept delaying the cut off point.I did go back to visit orphans, also to visit my son (not an orphan) plus some other interesting things happened. I don't like to think I use ADs as a crutch, I just know that it makes sense to have a (kind of) clear head when stopping taking them, and that didn't look like happening.

Then my script ran out. As in I didn't have a repeat. So I decided to take the bull by the horns and get the script for the reduced-dose-on-the-way-to-stopping-meds filled instead.

There was a time a few years back I thought I was 'over' needing my little pill, and my goal was to come off. Then I decided that you know, maybe, some people just have a chemical something that doesn't always click in right. That I am from a long line of overthinkers and depressives, and that what was it going to hurt if I had to stay where I was for the rest of my life.
Nothing. It isn't nor wasn't going to hurt,
I am not ashamed to say I take meds, I often introduce the fact in a conversation. 
I don't see depression or anxiety (my main issue) as a weakness or a shameful secret. Shit happens, and when it does, it affects us all differently.
I don't want to deal with yours, I don't know it. And you don't know mine.

I actually just got sick of paying money every month for a packet of tablets, it's really THAT simple. 
Weird, huh?
And sick of writing them on every form I fill out.
And I really feel like I can make it without them.

So anyway, as I was saying, my script ran out so I filled the one that has been sitting idle.

And wow. Just wow.

There are books and journals and enormous forests of paper containing information about when and why to take antiD, how to change the variety, how to take them, when to etc. 

Scads of advice about not feeling like a failure, about the number of people on them, about how they help... (They do, no denying)

There is however a vast emptiness (with crickets chirping) when you look for medical information about coming off them. I don't even want to think what that means except that it doesn't help someone trying to do this. Some vague mention of 'talk to your doctor' is all. No helpful advice, no comforting words....

Instead the internet is full of anecdotal 'evidence' of the pitfalls, the downsides, the negatives... The just UGHness of stopping.
Stuff like 'migraine for a week' ... 'Previously Unknown level of nausea'... 'Panic'... 'Suicidal'... 'Stay on them'... 'Cramps'... 'Uncontrollable tears' ... 
Wow.

I found this information on day 2 post ADs. 

When I was climbing the walls in hyperactivity. When my brain was like a coiled spring and I couldn't compose a sentence. When I was hypersensitive and angry. Wild and unpredictable.

Fortunately I had told my husband what was going on. I seriously think he'd have gone out for a week long walk otherwise.

So I thought I'd compose a diary. For what it's worth.

Day one: nothing to note. I've forgotten a tablet a day here and there before, so it's no biggie. I'm doing this on a half strength so it's actually better than having forgotten one.
Insomnia, increased appetite.. Otherwise... Nothing.

Day two. AM. Feels like electrical impulses zapping in my brain (this often happens when I miss a day so isn't new) a slight detachment.
Early PM erratic and slightly lightheaded. 
Later PM insane. As above paragraph. 
Much later PM (wondering if having friends for tea was really a good idea) on edge, flighty but under control, mostly.
Insane level of insomnia

Day three. Tell my boss so she understands if I have to go home. Explain the not nice day.
Surprise myself with my calmness and okay ness,
No jarring behaviour, no hyper anything...
Insomnia

And so here I am, wondering what's ahead. Knowing that day three isn't day thirty. That in one month I have to come off this half strength dose and withdraw totally.

Wondering. 
If the week before Christmas really was a good time to do this thing.

If it's going to be worth it.

If I'll even go back to taking them.
There's my fear.
But...

I'm not who I was 12 years ago, I'm not who I was 1 year ago.
I struggle with who I am and why I am that way, but so do we all.
I have a stronger faith than I did.
I fall just as badly and I fail just as badly but I get up stronger than I used to. 
I'm learning to lean one hand on the cross when I get back up. 
I'm learning to seek it more.
It helps me stand stronger and straighter.
I'm not worthy of the price that was paid there, but it was paid for me because God says I'm worth it.

Christians struggle with depression. Belief doesn't give you immunity.
Believing in yourself only lets you down, because you're not perfect and you can't (no matter what self help or prosperity preaching tells you) carry yourself. Your body gives up. Your mind strength resolve or purpose shifts.
You cannot save you.

So here I am again turning a blog post into a ministry.
Wait til my mind's free of the AD stuff.
I can't wait to see where my brain goes then!

Gone to the dogs.

Just after I posted about my morning routine and moving my walk/run to another place, my husband said 'you know now someone will find you where you are?'
And I replied that the one person who read the blog probably didn't live in the vaguest vicinity to us, and I think I said 'sigh' a lot when I replied thusly.

So the day after that conversation I drove into the car park, only to see another car parked where my car usually goes (you know, there are forty car parks in there but it's mine) 
I hesitated before pulling into the parking spot, pulled in a way.
Then I saw the owner of the car get out, then let out.. Her.. Two.. Dogs.
Yes folks that's right, not just a dog. Two dogs.

I again hesitated, and groaned. "You've got to be kidding me" I muttered to my steering wheel. I was tempted to turn back home, avoiding the dogs, but then had second thoughts, I told myself I'd regret missing my run, and that the ground was frosty ( I know, right? In November!) and I'd done the hard bit.. I was out of bed so might as well run.

I studiously avoided eye contact with the dog owner, who had one small yappy dog which seemed to have a pooping problem. Of the overdoing it variety. She spent most of the time chasing the yapper through the bushes collecting its deposits, which of course left the bigger dog to chase.. me! And the birds. 

After my run I sat in the car shaking my head at the absurdity of the situation. Nobody else would care about dogs on the running area I know, and probably nobody else cares now, but the ridiculousness of this happening within days of my post complaining about dogs running wasn't lost on me.

I've been back since and no dogs, no people, just grumpy me being happy alone. 

Coming last in first aid

I did first aid training today at work.
Aargh.
Eight hours of compression bandages, role playing and words like pus, intestines, gaping wound and spinal injury. 

I always offer to be the dead person in role plays, I figure I can't get anything wrong that way. I am usually last to do the CPR drill on the dummies though; I never quite get the head tilted back far enough. (Side note: not for you though I'd always do CPR right for you), I reckon by the time the instructor finally gets to assess me she's so tired she won't notice the chest doesn't quite rise and fall enough. Didn't work today either. 

It amazed me how much I already knew. Not remotely because I'm brilliant, nor because I remember from the last lot of training, but because between the four kids we created, we have had asthmatics, reactors to bee stings, choking children, deep cuts needing immediate stitching, burns requiring hospital visits, dog bites needing stitches, antibiotics and leaving scarring, appendicitis, heart murmurs, broken bones, sprains, strains, split heads, eye injuries, one who regularly dehydrated after one episode of vomiting, ant bites.... We ticked so many boxes, well done kids!

Today's partner and I managed figure eight bandages around our ankles in case of snake bite.. Woah, you wouldn't want another snake to come nearby. Your partner, who would of course have been with you to tie you up, would run a mile and you'd be left with an amazingly tight and neat figure eight bandage to ward off the next snake.  

We discussed St. John's slings vs regular slings. 
The fact that more deaths occur from people walking away after having an epipen shot instead of going to hospital.
The fact that Australian animals aren't the most deadly, they're the most venomous. (Because fewer of us die, folks. We just keep going)
That white tail spiders aren't actually dangerous, more just disgustingly dirty foul little creatures who are so full of bacteria and stuff we react to that. (So more like a dusty white, or dirty beige tail then?)
 We're back to splinting as well. It went out of favour for a while because everyone was splinting everything that wouldn't move, but now they realise splints have their place (like if you're in the desert or the ocean, apparently) so we can splint again.
Just when you thought your joy bucket couldn't get fuller.

I know that first aid training is essential. I know when I am struck with the need to use my training, I will say 'um' a lot. But I also know common sense kicks in, just like it did when the kids presented me with all their ailments, before I was a certified first aid person thingy.

When the instructor was talking about phoning 000, she told us how the conversation would go and how the central office handles calls, etc. She also said 'don't hang up on emergency services. Always be last to hang up'
And my stubborn immature brain imagined a call.

"No you hang up."
"No YOU hang up"
"No you hang up first"
"Alright let's hang up together... One two.. You haven't hung up have you?"

Always be last. 

From the diary of a klutzy fitness tragic.

So today I did the C25K* for week 2. I know I've been doing it for about 10 weeks, maybe even longer, but I missed out on a few weeks, and they advise you go back if that happens. So I went wa-a-ay back.
See, it didn't get light til around 7.30 am in China and by then we were already up and going; devotion and prayer time done and breakfast happening. And the footpaths and streets have too many bumps, unknown potholes and people for me to have achieved anything but frustration, so I skipped it. Reluctantly and not without whinging, mind you.

And now I'm back.

I have worked out my stride; the phrase 'runs like a girl' was coined about me, and I mean I run like a four year old girl. When I run, I have my head down and my arms awkward and my legs all over the place. Like a girl. And that's okay by me. 

My arms and hands pull my headphone cords out of my ears as I run, then, while I'm trying to fix that, they pull my phone from my pocket (this after I realised I need shorts with zipped pockets because I can't run with my iPhone in my bra or in an armband despite what others tell me, and then my iPhone won't fall out as I run either, another weird situation I never see anyone else struggle with) And I can't run or walk without music, the conversations in my head would be horrendous.

I have my hair pulled back because otherwise it flicks me in the eye and face, even though it was good to hide behind.

I wear my cap pulled low, partly for shade, partly to hide morning hair and partly to hide under.

I wear my sunglasses. Partly to hide the morning's no makeup, partly for glare elimination, mostly to hide behind. (I tried the pair with the cord so they didn't fall off my face but the cord got tangled in the headphone cords and that was just...no...)

Then, even with all my disguises, people still knew it was me. Maybe something to do with the white white legs and the same coloured hair, but my husband would come home from work proudly telling  me so-and-so said they had seen me out walking, people asked me how long I'd been walking (like since I was one year old, duh) and even a delivery driver at work commented on my mornings. His comment that I was safe from muggers because I walk so aggressively didn't really placate me like he possibly thought it would.
See... It's because it's a 'me' thing, not a shared activity, and I like to be left alone, sometimes. You know, like a cat. Just when I want to be left alone.

So anyways, I finally think I have somewhere I can do my morning thing in peace. 

I used to just use the streets and footpaths, but they too, in regional Australia, have tree trunks, potholes and uneven spots which I invariably trip in or over. I have some vision issues so I actually need to run or walk head down in that situation, as I simply can't tell from a distance if a different colour in the path indicates a shadow or a dip or a stone.
This meant I literally ran into people, or one time a street sign, so really I'm a danger to myself as well as the other fitness people walking.
And I know most of these people. So they want to say hello. When all I want to do is listen to my music and walk or run, depending where I am in my program. 
People drive past and hit their horn to say g'day.. Such an Aussie thing to do, but it terrifies me as I think I'm in their way (when I was on the road) or there was about to be an accident... And me so in the zone the noise just jangled in my head.

I tried the local sports oval, which worked for a while. I drove there, then used the fence as a boundary. The oval ticked several boxes. 
Soft; at my age, dear, you shouldn't run on concrete. 
Even ground, they play sport here so it has to be, and 
Quiet... Just Because. 

Then daylight saving and warmer weather ruined everything. 
All the people wanting to tone for summer started using my oval. 
And wanting to say hello.

And setting up boxing and other things in the path of my run so I had to look up and squint to see where they were, to check if they were running in their own little section they had flagged off, and if I was going to run through or into them. They didn't have to look to see if I was coming their way, mind you, I had to change my course. Which is very hard when you're not actually a fitness person, you don't always see well, and can't see their little flags and so on, and you've only been doing this a fraction of a fraction of your life. 
And you don't want to communicate.

Then the doggie mummies came. Loud laughing ladies. Having a great meet up. Which is fabulous, except they can let their dogs off the leash (apparently) and those dogs run around me, tripping me up, sniffing my legs and my butt and trying to get me to play with them like their doggie mummies should have been but they were too busy laughing and talking together outside of the oval, but laughing ...OHHHH laughing with me about their cute dog's cute dog antics. No. Just.. Sigh.

Then the sprinklers started. Pfft pfft pfft they seemed to say as I ran through them because they started right when I got there and I couldn't stop.
So I said pfft myself, and moved to the local high school oval.

The ground is soft, it's not necessarily as even, which surprises me as it's an athletic field, but I don't care because it's quiet. I am alone and can even look UP as I run or walk. The only people I see are the bus drivers who start their pick up run early. And they don't acknowledge my presence. Well I don't think they do, they're so far away from me I can't tell.

And my newbie fitness heart is happy. And.. Just sayin' .... if you tell people about my secret place, I'm going to have to start getting up earlier so I'm alone again...and that might not be too pretty, so just.. No, right?


Note:
*C25K is an app you can get for your smartphone. It is intended to get you from 'Couch to a 5K marathon' in eight weeks. I don't intend to ever run a 5k, but I did want to get fit and walking wasn't doing it fast enough. It is about half an hour a day three days a week, and works on a walk/run combo, building up the run time gradually til you're running the whole half hour.

kids say the.. sigh.. you know..

"Be prepared"

I learnt that in girl guides, sometimes it has stood me in good stead but not always.

It failed me with my kids, because at the time, they were kids and kids.. Just don't get it.

Like the time I hid a spare door key outside in case of emergency. When we were locked out, I went to get it, but one of the kids had used it and forgotten to put it back. Same as the spare emergency spare I didn't think they knew about. (This is also the time they announced the two youngest could fit through the dog flap, but that's another story for another time)

Like the time I had to hide their Christmas presents at someone else's house because I was all out of hiding spots in our house.

Like the times I used to set up a trail for them to find their birthday presents with clues along the way, only to find out (only last year) that child 2 used to get up an hour earlier than the family and follow the trail, open the presents, re-wrap them and be proud of being a step ahead of the game.

Like the time...
We set off on a family 'holiday' which started with a full day's drive, thereby defying the definition of holiday to start off. We had our family bus piled with toys, clothes, books, CDs, suitcases, four kids and us.

Here's how awesome a parent I thought I was. I photocopied the map, highlighted our route, and marked certain towns with different symbols. Some symbols meant 'stop here for a play in the park' some meant 'stop here for a picnic' and some meant 'ask mum for a treat'

I then had a bag for each child with assorted treats. Each time it was 'treat time' they'd get
to have a lucky dip into their bag. It may have been a (normally not allowed brand of) drink, snack, pencils, stickers, small toy, sweets... Assorted. Stuff.

Just before we all paraded into the circus bus, I mean van, I gave each child their map and explained the system. Child 1 2 and 3 were excited about the whole idea and sat in their seats, chattered with each other about the road, the route, wondering what each park would be like, what they were going to eat for lunch...

Ticked all the boxes for success.


Child 4, aged about 4, asked 'why do we have to wait for our treats?"

Huh?
My militant recalcitrant blessing.

"Mummy, I aksed you a question"

Yes, yes you did.



Well, why do we have to wait?

Because that's how we're playing the game.

Then it's a dumb game. Isn't it everyone? A dumb game.


The other kids laughed and said no it was going to be a fun game.



I think it's a dumb game.


At this stage we were at the end of our street and my patience was intact.

He sat quietly for a minute then started again.


What are the surprises?

If I told you they wouldn't be a surprise.

I don't like surprises. Are they good surprises?


Are they good surprises?

Do you think I'd give you bad ones?

Well you did, like the white power ranger present when I liked the green power ranger.
(a whole 'nother story folks)

Well except for that time.

So you don't always give good surprises, do you?

You're right, that one time I didn't.

What are they then?
Mummy?
What are they?
The treats?
Mummy?
Muuuuummmmmmyyyyyyyyyy

(Sigh) what?

What are the treats?

By now even the other kids are weighing in telling him it will all be okay and he was telling. them how dumb they were and they were telling him how dumb he was and he was telling them....

So anyways, we were by now at the next town half an hour away.

Mummy, I want to know what the treats are.
I want to know if they are good treats.
How come you get to hold them all?

(Those without children will be at this point wondering why I didn't just pull the 'because I'm the mum' card. It doesn't work. Trust me.)

My husband told me to shut the kid up, he had to drive another ten hours and couldn't do it with him whining and yapping.

So I did what every well prepared gracious loving mother would do.

I grabbed his grab bag of treats, threw them on his lap and said 'there have the damn things. Enjoy it all. All of it. Every single treat.'

Then child 2 said 'that's not fair, if he has his, we should all have ours.'
So I threw all the bags onto all the laps and sulked in my seat for nine and a half hours.

Like any girl guide would.

Wookies and cookies

We are headed to visit our son and his girlfriend in Germany, and asked if he wanted us to bring anything over.

"Chewie" he said.

As this is colloquial for chewing gum, I thought he meant his favourite brand of that.. but no, he meant  his 21st birthday present which was in fact a Chewbacca costume... A wookie. He wants to have it with him, and who can blame him?

He then happened to see photos we posted on Facebook in which we posed with a store mannequin. He asked if it was ours - no. 
He wanted one is all.
To put the wookie suit on.
And have it on display.
All the time.
Of course.

That jolly mannequin has been the bane of our lives over the last month. I borrowed her so I could dress her up with some vintage clothes I have to sell. Easy, right?
Wrong.
We had to keep taking her arms off to fit clothes on her, twist her body around, and even though she's not real, you need to get rather intimate with her curves and bumps to change her. All rather awkward really.

But the two kids at home - technically both adults - have taken to this life sized Barbie doll with an alarming enthusiasm.
She has been in the shower.. (The reward of hearing my daughter's scream when she opened the bathroom door was apparently worth the effort)
In my son's bed.
In the pantry. (Small pantry, she was pointing out what she wanted for tea)
In the loo.
Naked.
Dressed.
Half dressed.
Dressed in a wookie head.
Placed immediately outside my son's bedroom door.
Placed behind a curtain in my daughter's room so she was in silhouette.
...
I could go on.


So when my overseas son questioned the ownership of the mannequin I was pleased to be able to say it wasn't ours, so he couldn't have it.
I can just imagine airport security scanning our suitcases.
In one, we have what looks like the skin and fur of a wild animal.

In the next, would be apparent body parts.
Somehow I don't think customs would see just how funny this situation could really be.

I see our passports being flagged and us undergoing scrutiny.

I see that this could in fact be a whole new adventure in and of itself. 

One I'm prepared to skip so we can arrive safely in the land of streusel and schnitzel and lederhosen. 

Oh. 
Hang on.
Lederhosen.
Might need that mannequin back....

China revisited

You may know, if:
a. You know me in real life or
b. You have read more than one post here,

I am in love with China's orphans and visited there last year. I am planning to head back later this year (2013) and I have had people ask how they can help, what they can do, what they can give me to take over.

Interestingly, when I posed this question to the director of the organisation  I'll be travelling with, he said "money". Most of the things we can buy here for me to take over are made in China. One Aussie dollar goes so much further in China than you can imagine. However, I'm not asking you for money. I'm not asking you for anything. I'm just putting down my ideas for the people who have asked me for specifics. Easier than a bulk email, to be honest.

Part of this trip over will be me doing some kid's activities. Now I know those of you who know me will (not) be surprised, as that's been a big part of my role in libraries; the many components of early literacy my passion - and singing, movement, drama, play and crafts are so big a part of those foundations of learning. It'll be awesome to do them "just for fun".

If you're a parent or teacher of special needs kids, you may have some ideas for crafts or games i can involve them in - the children have vision issues, down's syndrome, cerebral palsy - you name it, so I'd love to be as inclusive as I can. Please message me any goldmine ideas.

If you really really want to help, I'm just after small light craft materials. You can message me for specifics. Not anything huge or heavy - I may need a fundraiser to pay excess baggage otherwise! I know I can buy this sort of stuff in China too, but truth is, I won't have time to, and the people already there are busy without another job.

So anyways, in other news, another group of people - unrelated to the team I travelled with - have just visited China and on facebook they posted  a photo of the precious Diana, who stole my heart and was my wee kindred spirit. So lovely to see her smiling face again, and made me even more excited about heading over.

My husband is planning on coming with me, but his work are digging their heels in with denying his leave request, so some prayers would be appreciated. Our God does mighty things, and His will will be done. We need grace or contained joy to accept it whichever way it goes. :)

love finds a way

Back in the days before the world got "cool", i.e. before my kids were born; in fact before the world even got remotely interesting, apparently; ie back when I was at school, there was a girl in my class whose parents had divorced. She was, I think, the only kid in my year level if not my school who came from a "broken family". By the end of high school there were a few more separated families, but not many, and they were still spoken of in hushed tones. And my mother warned me countless times that asking them about it wasn't a nice thing to do.

Fast forward past all the boring parts of world history until the days when my kids ARE alive and they are at school, and they are amongst the few families where all the kids in one house share the same parents and those parents still live together married.

The hubster and I cracked 30 years together this year. Its something I guess we should be more proud of, but it's been such a hard slog sometimes it seems like a small exhausting miracle.

We celebrated 25 years with a fake Vegas wedding with 2 fake Elvis's. It was a fun day, we had friends and family with us, we ate cake, and they drank wine, and I said it then and I'll say it again. "It is hard work every single day"

Even the days it doesn't feel like hard work, it's hard work. I don't remotely regret marrying my Mr. and I don't regret anything we've been through and he's still the one I'd choose, but life gets hard and things get in the way, and if you want it to work, it takes a heck of a lot of of compromise and tears. And yelling, and chocolate, and tantrums, and humility and ...the list is endless.

I have a lot of friends and family whose marriages have separated; this is in no way a judgement of their choices, their spouse's choices or their way of life. I don't know your story, I don't know your life, I can only speak from my own experience and story. And none of us is perfect, so I'm not coming from that perspective either. 

And our married life has had huge bumps, cracks and seemingly insurmountable fragmenting. We are both broken people, and that's more than normal. Its only fitting therefore that two broken people can kind of fit together but there's not going to be the perfect match to completely join with all your chips and weakened spots to make a perfect new vessel...

The true picture of marriage as I see it, i.e. my own (Christian) perspective, is that of a covenant. (A solemn agreement) The Bible says husbands are to love their wives as Christ loved the church. (Ephesians 5:25)

What does that mean? It means He would die for her, He would sacrifice all He is and has for her to be better. 

Christians believe Christ died for their sins.

One one side: Christ, who knew no sin, who lived a blameless life, therefore deserved no punishment.
Other side: Us, who by nature are sinful - we may not be murderers or child abusers, but we may be selfish or gossipers, or miserly, or spiteful. Who deserve some form of punishment.

Christ goes to the cross and takes on those sins he didn't commit, ie ours -  the rage of God against those sins, and He dies the death only ever given to vile sinners. And is alive again afterwards, all so we could, through belief, repentance and acceptance, appear blameless, as if we have no sin or blemish.

Makes no sense?

Our human nature can't grasp it, it's too alien to what we know. That's where faith comes in. I don't understand it, I don't get it, but I believe it.

And this is the goal. That the husband loves his wife this much, and the wife, knowing so, is - not because she is weaker or a lesser person, nor that she is of less value, but because her HUSBAND sees her as being of incredible and inestimable value and treats her accordingly, and she, responding to his attitude, becomes the loving wife he dreams of. 

And we fail at this every single day, many times a day. Some days its so bad we might as well give up on even thinking about it - but because we have this deep covenant to each other, a promise we made before God that we WOULD (try and try and try again to) make each other the focus of our lives - THAT is why we get back up and start again.

He is much better at this than me, I'm too stubborn proud and selfish, but I know more than anything that this is God's plan - to have two broken sinners to combine together. Imperfect, but through focus on Him, becoming perfect. There are two sides to every story, but when we realise both the sides belong to sinners, we realise God is the one in control. And I learn over and over that my pride and stubbornness have no role here, and I have to become less so he (both he and He) can become more.

And using the picture of Christ loving the church - He is never adulterous, never unfaithful, and never asks for a divorce (David Platt - Divorce and discipleship podcast) we are set a high goal. One in which we need His hand to help us reach.


I will be here
And you can cry on my shoulder
When the mirror tells us we're older
I will hold you
And I will be here
To watch you grow in beauty
And tell you all the things you are to me
I will be here
I will be true to the promise I have made
To you and to the One who gave you to me 

(I will be here - Steven Curtis Chapman)

stronger

Let no one caught in sin remain
Inside the lie of inward shame
We fix our eyes upon the cross
And run to him who showed great love
And bled for us

Oh death! Where is your sting?
Oh hell! Where is your victory?
Oh Church! Come stand in the light!
Our God is not dead, he's alive! he's alive!

                                                              Matt Maher "Christ is risen'
  

The difference of a couple of hours.

I sent an SOS via twitter to some people I affectionately call my "twitterchurch" that I was in need of some prayer. They responded and I knew it.

It was -

Ugly ugly ugly.

Depression has flirted around my perimeter for quite a while, and I have been working my way away from it in every way I know.

I try valiantly to fight it, get okay, then fall again.

I listen in to the voice telling me I'm useless, hopeless and basically unworthy of my family my friends and the life I live. Every single flaw from my entire life is magnified and brought before me to show me my failings. 

To the inexperienced eye, I appear fine. 

Arrogant, 'standoffish' but otherwise okay. 

Don't believe appearances. I'm not okay. I'm internally processing your (perceived, imagined, not real) judgement, your questioning, your assessment. 

I weigh myself and am found wanting.

My defense is to shut down.

It's not good, it's not healthy, it's not right.

And (SHOCK) it happens to Christians.

While listening to my music and crying to myself in my stupid solitary misery and trying to work out what the heck is wrong with me

a song came on with the words above.

And I realised I'm living in the lie of my inward shame.  Im listening to the wrong voices. Truth exaggerated to the point it becomes a lie. And its not about me.

I took this to the only one who knows me better than I do - to God.

And I felt lifted. I know it was prayers - theirs and mine. 

I had told them I needed some help accepting grace. 

I do. 

I'm so proud and stubborn, I do.

Its so hard to just take something undeserved.

But that's the whole story of the cross and what Jesus did there. 

We, so undeserving of freedom, He so undeserving of punishment... 

By taking on the cruel punishment we deserve, the innocent man on the cross gave us the life HE deserved. 

And believing that, and, as in the above lyrics, fixing my eyes on the cross, I see love that is beyond comprehension.

And again I feel undeserving and unworthy and not good enough, but He carries me over, because I KNOW God is there. and I need His strength. Fortunately His judgement is done through His eyes, not mine.

I'm a long long way from well. This ridiculous black dog is persistent. 

But my God is stronger.

the deep

What is it about depression that people don’t get? Every. Thing.

Just… 

Every. 

Thing.

When I am caught up in the grasp of the lying hound that is depression I am unreachable.

Your words, your thoughts, your messages all get misrouted and miscommunicated and my mind warps twists and mangles my thoughts my ideas and my own words.

It‘s just easier to sit alone away from the whole world.Stop inflicting more hurt.

You can’t understand unless you’ve been there. You can’t begin to understand the depth the breadth and the enormity of… just the aloneness. The absolute empty shell where everything is echoing and bouncing and making no sense.

I have a fulfilling job.

I have all I need and more materially.

I have everything I need

except

I don’t like myself.

DON’T :

Tell me I’m a nice person.

Tell me I’ll get better.

Tell me it’s all in my head (Like DUH)

Tell me lots of people love me.

Tell me to have faith.

Tell me it’ll look better in the morning. (it didn’t this morning and it stands to reason it probably won’t tomorrow either)

Tell me I look okay.

My heart hurts my head hurts and my arrogant shit of a brain won’t allow me to try to think positively about anything. 

I see every minute error I’ve made in my entire life become larger than life and blown way out of imaginable proportion. 

How many people have I not led towards God by my behaviour? How many have I instead directed away?
Did I not even direct my own children in the right ways? 

I yelled too much, I got grumpy too much, I wasn't nice and I'm still not..

I know my failings, I know them all too well.

How can people ever like me after I have treated them the way I did or not treated them the way they deserved to be, or failed them in one of some other kazillion ways I see I did...

whatever…

Just how can they? How can I even like me?

Easy. 

They can’t. 

I don’t.

Once again every cell in my body knows there is grace beyond imagining and a father who wants to hold me close but I can’t let go.

I just can’t give it up. I know I will, because I am above all obedient.

but right now, I just … can’t.

Kids. They say... stuff

A 'friend' on twitter (ie someone I only know by their twittername) posted on his blog the other day about the funny things his kids say.

fairicbaptist.wordpress.com/2013/05/01/ill-be-here-all-week-try-the-veal/

Then I saw someone has started a series of adult interpretations of his conversations with his 2 year old daughter.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=zdtD19tXX30

then there's the Star wars drama a man made to children's narration of a scene from the story from their own memory. (You'll never see Han Solo the same way)

www.happyplace.com/22823/actors-reenact-kids-retelling-of-star-wars

All of which got me thinking about the cute, funny things my kids used to say. Well, they still do say funny things, but now they're adults they aren't always cute.

I was writing a list of them which I will keep for another post but thought I'd share some current cuteness from my nieces and nephews in the interim.

Because "cute things kids say" - we just cant get enough amiright?

Like my family, my brother's family has four children, and, like my family, two boys and two girls. However their children are in the wrong a different order, with 2 boys then 2 girls.

My parents were babysitting the two boys, and dad peeled a mandarin for one of them, taking pains to get every "string" off the segments and making sure they were seedless. However he missed one of those tiny flat white seed-like things. (you know, a phantom seed). 

Mr C turned to my mum and with a look of agony on his face, said “oh grandma. I ated a seed”

I don’t think you did, pop was very careful.

No grandma I did. I ated a seed. You know what happens when you eat a seed don’t you?

No, C, what happens?

Please note, Mr C is somewhat prone to theatrics and uses hand gestures, stance and gesticulations to make his point abundantly clear. He did this in full dramatic overload as he said

“Well. I ated a seed and now it will grow into a mandarin then a mandarin tree and that will grow in my tummy. It will grow and grow until it grows out my ears and my nose and I will just be full of a mandarin tree”

I don’t think that will happen. Anyway you didn’t eat a seed.

Oh but I did. [In all the drama of the moment he started to cry] I’m going to have a mandarin tree growing out of me. Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness.

C …. C. You aren’t. Do you want to know what happens if you really DID swallow a mandarin seed? It goes into your tummy, and there’s acids and stuff that break it down into a sort of dust. Then that keeps going through your tummy and comes out in your poo.

        Silence.

Grandma, I don’t know where you get your stories from, but that is just ridiculous.

Their innocence in their hilariousness is gold. Now they are starting to realise how funny they are, and make deliberate puns and jokes which is extra fun. And like any kids, they rely heavily on knock-knock jokes for their joke fix. 

Miss B is 4 and a knock-knock wizard. She will take whatever answer the last knock-knock joke had and add “poo” to the end of it for hers. This is quite a genius operation and guarantees fall off your chair laughter from her big brothers.

And her father, but let’s not go there.

Miss 4’s mother was teaching her her full name. In the cause of remaining anonymous I will use the name Anne Smith here for her, neither of which is remotely like my niece’s name.

Anne, what’s your name? Anne.

Anne what? Anne what? What?

Well, your brother C, he’s C Smith.

Uh huh.

So, what’s your name? Huh?

It’s Anne. Anne who

Oh mummy this isn’t time for knock-knock jokes. Just tell me.

I also know a lot of kid humour falls into the location joke category, in that you had to be there, but really, kid humour is the best. 

Particularly so in the case of unintentional humour, that which a lot of childish innocent humour falls under.

The look on a face when they realise they made you laugh… which changes to the look on the face wondering how. 

I sometimes wish youtube facebook and twitter had been round when my kids were younger - then I slap myself up the back of the head and realise I'm glad they weren't.

I have many many more examples of these four kidlets, and plan to share some of my own children’s quotes and jokes in another post or two, once they remind me of their hilariousness and tell me I can’t use x or y because its not funny enough… and they were much funnier in person. 

I KNOW, I was there.

And I share their genes. how lucky am I?