Receiver Fatigue and getting over it

I have been in bed with the flu for a week. It was not the plan. We had organised a family trip back to Auckland to see family and friends, do some maintenance at our house and generally have a holiday. But the kids both had a nasty virus in the two weeks beforehand and despite my attempts to rest and avoid it, I succumbed the day before.

So I waved off hubby and the two kids and planned to join them two days later once I was feeling better. Two days passed and I was worse rather than better. I was grateful to be able to actually rest while sick. It felt like such a treat to have the flu alone. Oh dear what an irony. 

On the third day I woke up drenched in sweat so had to change all the sheets. I ran out of tissues and was on the last roll of toilet paper and last two paracetamol. Time to call for help. 

I am so grateful to have friends to call. We have only lived in this town for three months but through church I've made some lovely friends and even though we are still in the fresh and new phase of getting to know each other, I knew I could call. So I did. And she came with toilet rolls and paracetamol, hung out my washing and did the dishes. This is despite it being school holidays and her having four kids. Mums do get it. She then came back and got my washing in, took it back to her place to finish drying and returned it folded the next day. 

Meanwhile another friend in Auckland hosted my son's 5th birthday party that he had begged to have with his big cousins. She knew it meant a lot and offered to help even with me not there. I am so grateful. 

Over the years, especially since having kids, I have had to ask for help a lot. Sometimes it's been part of really normal transitions like moving house. My sister in law helped set up my wardrobes and linen cupboard and family helped to look after our daughter while we unpacked. At other times it has been caring for my children when I am to unwell with depression and anxiety. And at other times it has been when hyperemesis (pregnancy nausea and vomiting) meant I was bed bound and needed help. About 18 months ago I was exhausted due to adrenal fatigue and needed help with childcare and house work. Over the last 8 years I've needed help with juggling childcare and work and have asked mum friends who are home full time to look after my kids or pick them up. I feel like the last 8 years has been full of asking for help and learning to receive it.

At first it was so wonderful to receive help, to know we were not alone. At times I was so ill that help was the only option. I've never been a private person so I didn't feel embarrassed overtly by needing help but over time it got harder. Desperation meant I blocked out how vulnerable I felt and the sense of failure I had. I remember needing a friend to help with childcare one day when I had to work late. I got home late and walked into the house. She was managing her own three kids, my two, cooking dinner, had cleaned up and folded laundry. I disappeared to my room and sobbed. The sense of failure and shame was just too much. So much of my sense of worth was whittled away in my need for help and dependence on others.

I am naturally quite an independent person and pride myself on being organised and having things under control. However, Ive learned that those things are a privilege of circumstance and health rather than a measure of my value or success as a person. And I have had a lot of conversations with other Mums who have struggled on alone, convinced that everyone else was coping better than they were and not asked for help or been honest about how hard life can be. People have said to me "You seem like you are always on top of things" but others have commented "You are so good at asking for help". On a bad day both comments seem problematic. When people say I seem to have it all together I want to scream and ask what they expect me to do? Kids still need to be fed and clothed and taken places. Most of the time you can't just collapse in a heap cause everything else will collapse too. But there have been time when I have collapsed and I have desperately needed help and I have asked for it. Telling me I am good at asking can feel like I am not independent or capable or that I am somehow weaker than those who just "soldier on".

Instead I believe that most of us are stronger than we often realise. At times carrying on putting one step in front of the other, getting out of bed, keeping on parenting through what feels like thick mud and a pack full of rocks is what we do. But in other situations the strongest thing we can do is ask for help. There are no medals for going it alone. Our kids do not benefit from white knuckling it until it all falls apart. Instead help can mean we recover, it can remind us that we are all connected and that none of us is truly in control of our lives. It can show our children that helping others is a privilege and receiving from others is an important skill to learn.

I'm feeling better now. The school holidays are over. Everything is on a more even keel. I hope that when things are going well I will be in a position to help others. But I don't owe anyone and I don't have to prove anything. I am stronger than I think and in each season, day, minute and breath I remember that none of us can do this alone so why should I? And why should you?

It's been a while

Gosh it does get rather tedious to write these kind of posts. I haven't blogged for 18months. My last post was about trying out not working to give myself some space to get well and find the joy in life again.

Well that didn't happen...

It was a great idea but not totally financially feasible and I had a great part time job offer close to home so I decided to take it. It involved working with children and families at our church and it felt so good to feel enthusiastic and to join a lovely team. I was wary of exhausting myself and of the perils of working in a faith community but I wanted to try something new and to use my teaching skills in a new context. Over the year I gradually increased my hours from 5 hours per week up to 15. I enjoyed so much of the role but again found I felt really anxious about doing it well and performance anxiety around what other people expected.

My plans for a more healthy balance in my life didn't quite go as planned. The reasons for that are many but some is my lack of self discipline and the exhaustion of anxiety bubbling along under the surface. I also think in a role where you are wanting to make a positive impact in people's lives, the responsibility of that weighed heavily on me. I know that I haven't been good at relying on God for energy and guidance and instead just try harder and harder to do everything perfectly, which doesn't end well.

I appreciated so much about the role and learned a great deal but some of my core struggles and the questions about life and faith I have been mulling over for a while now were like a stone in my shoe, a constant uncomfortable reminder and unsettling pull on me. Being involved closely in a church was truly a blessing to me. The relationships formed and the important conversations were gifts. And looking at faith and faith formation from the perspective of a child and seeking to foster a healthy and whole relationship between children and Jesus was such a joy.

However, throughout the year my husband and I talked about how unsustainable life in Auckland with an Auckland sized mortgage was and we realised that in the not too distant future I would need to return to high school teaching, probably fulltime, in order for us to make any progress financially and not continue to jump from one home maintenance bill to another. We were realising that my belief that once our kids were at school it would be easier to juggle work and family life was instead a delusion. School hours and school teaching do not go well together when you add an Auckland commute and after school meetings. I could see nights of working till 2 am regularly in my future as I marked piles of assessments and my husband continued to commute an hour to and from work with the pressure of accounting for his time in 15 minute increments.

We know we are privileged to even own a home or have jobs. But we also need to be able to live with the circumstances of our lives and the impact it has on our health, family and quality of life. Our large vege garden, fruit trees and chickens are important to us but the only time in the week to spend enjoying it was a couple of hours on a Saturday and it felt like life was taken up with work and jobs around the house as well as the general busyness of life with kids.

So towards the end of the year we decided that we needed to get out of Auckland to have any chance of having a more peaceful and restful life. Early this year my husband got a job offer in a small town in the North Island of NZ. We knew the town a little bit but knew no-one living here. After a couple of reconnaissance trips which included amazing weather and very convincing sales pitches by locals on the advantages of a move to their friendly town, we made the call and accepted the job.

We have now been here for 3 months almost. It has been a surprisingly smooth transition. The kids love their respective school and kindy. We are renting a warm and sunny but small house close to town. My husband's commute is now a 5 minute walk and we have only filled the cars about 5 times since we moved. One of our two cars barely gets driven. I applied for a few teaching and non-teaching jobs before we moved here but wasn't successful. Instead of disappointment, I felt a growing sense of glee at the prospect of not working. And it has proved to be wonderful. For the first time in seven years there are no childcare juggles when the kids are sick, drop offs are slow and gentle, washing gets hung on the line and dried and taken in all on the same day and the house is generally pretty clean most of the time. We have found a church and been warmly welcomed. We are making friends and having meals with each other. Our kids are making friends and going to play at each other's houses. And I feel so much better! My daughter and I are having horse riding lessons together, which was a childhood passion of mine that I am so excited to be doing again.

It is a strange transition to going back to being home full time. I haven't done that since Ella was 7 months old. There have been times when my mood has been low as I renegotiate my identity and role in this new place. I carry so many unrecognised expectations of myself and it is strange to not be getting affirmation and a sense of worth from work and colleagues. But I'm not lonely and the sense of space and no anxiety is almost miraculous.

So here we are. We are exploring the next steps of putting down roots here and what our new version of "normal" could be. But for now I am enjoying this breathing space and the sunshine of our coastal new home. And on a very good day I wonder whether it really is possible to have all you have hoped for and dreamed of.

A shrivelled heart

I wrote the following at the beginning of 2015.

"Self preservation shrinks the good parts of life. Entering a new year and still struggling with feeling like life takes more energy than I have, self preservation seems the only option. 2014 seemed to consist of doing less and less, lots of visits to the dr, trying yo get my meds right and generally feeling frustrated. I watch other people who seem to be taking such delight in life and I ask myself what my problem is? Why is each day a battle? Why can't I seem to get to the end of the day and not feel on the verge of exhaustion.

Maybe this is all normal. Maybe parenting and working and life is just like this. But I don't think it is. I know tiredness is part of this season but dragging myself around doesn't make sense. I talk to other mums who are enjoying this season. They delight in their kids and though housework and cooking and managing tricky stages and behavior is draining, they can get out of bed in the morning."

Well unfortunately 2015 brought more of the same. I saw a great holistic gp who did tests and diagnosed me with adrenal fatigue.  This is a debated condition and not officially recognised.  Basically the adrenal glands which produce cortisol and adrenaline get drained due to long term stress and anxiety.  High levels of cortisol and adrenaline are bad for your body in lots of ways but once your body can't maintain it your cortisol drops and you get terrible fatigue. Both stress and exhaustion lead to sugar cravings and your body gets into a terrible cycle of sugar crashes, fatigue and anxiety about feeling so awful. Plus the wonderful side effect of weight gain, particularly around the tummy.

Her recommendations included dropping sugar, gluten, taking probiotics and omega3 and 6. I also needed to some exercise so starting cycling instead of driving. By March I had lost weight and was feeling much better.

But thanks to an infected toe, antibiotics, general anesthetic and hospital food, my get well plan hit the wall.

In April i got a nasty flu like virus. In the July holidays I got another one. By the October holidays I was barely functioning dragging myself through each day. I just wanted to sleep forever.

More tests and chronic sinus headaches meant more antibiotics. Specialists revealed the problem was actually my upper back and neck. And possibly post viral fatigue. 

And in November I had the end of my toe amputated.

And there is no easy fix. Rest, changing my diet, exercise to strengthen my core muscles and reducing stress. Switching meds again to see if that helps.

So back to the shrivelled heart...

I think the most painful part of the last year has been the slow hardening and shrivelling of my heart as I have to carefully calculate the energy - physical, mental and emotional- which I can afford to expend.  Conversations I want to have will take to much and so I don't start them, time with precious people is a luxury I couldn't afford, generosity of time and affection, even to my own kids and hubby felt impossible. And each cruel and cold calculation shrivelled my heart some more. Cause I love people and doing things and making life good. And I haven't been able to do it.

So a year later I am making big changes. Thanks to hubby's new job I am able to stop working.  Leaving my dream job was a very hard decision. But it had got to the point where I couldn't get out of bed in the morning and I felt working was just becoming impossible.

This year I am determined to take back control of my health. I will have three days of 5 hours without my kids. My wonderful husband wants me to rest and slow down. I am looking forward to doing simple things like reading, going for walks and writing. I want to spend time in the vege garden and with the chickens. I want to enjoy not rushing and being able to look after my kids with out constant childcare logistics. I am even looking forward to having a cleaner house and cooking recipes from my loved but not well used, cook books.

And through this I hope my raisin-like heart will swell and be refreshed again. I want life to hold new promise and possibility and to regain some of the confidence I have lost. I want life to be more than a test of survival and a disappointing struggle.

It's not working any more

I haven't written a lot this year. I haven't felt that I had anything much to say. At my tender age of 36 I seem to feel more uncertain as time goes by. Things I was strident about and sure of seem to have slipped through my fingers of the last decade or so thanks to the realities of real life and the awareness that there is no one size fits all list of answers and advice. As well as uncertainty over the more existential issues one wrestles with, I have also had a few years of facing my limitations mentally, physically and emotionally. Depression relapses and the vulnerability of knowing my mental health is fragile means that I have learned the hard way that great ideas my not be a great idea in reality when I have to actually deal with the pressure, anxiety, work load and lack of sleep such great ideas usually involve. Great ideas don't usually involve doing less and having less responsibility. At least not for me.


I have also learned that I don't enjoy the tension between my family life and work and all the other things I could get involved in. I find the juggle and the constant feeling that I am not doing anything well, torturous. I think it is becoming the normal state for many women. After finding life at home with pre-schoolers was driving me up the wall, work has been a blessing in so many ways. It has filled my cup and made me a better wife and Mum and person all round. But the balance tipped after having a second child, and especially since my daughter started school. The commute and the anxiety over getting to work on time and then getting back to pick up kids on time is so tough. I can't put my heart into my job in the way I would like to because I have no extra time or energy to do so. And even being so physically far away from my kids each day has it's own special almost psychic tension.


This year I got more involved in our church. I love church. I know that many people have some very good reasons to avoid church and all its associations. But for me the church we attend has brought hope and challenge and healing in so many good ways. Feeling part of a community who loves and cares for me is like gold. And feeling able to contribute is such a delight and privilege. For years I have felt on the outer of the churches I have attended and struggled to build close enough relationships to feel like I belong. Having that now is just amazing. But it is also something which I have to manage.


I have always been a problem solver and community builder. I can see where things could be improved or where there is a gap that could be filled. And I often have really good ideas about how to achieve those things. I can articulate myself well and as a teacher and someone who can speak confidently, I seem more than capable of getting things done. But, don't be fooled. Sometimes the ideas people are not the right people to take the lead. Feeling like I am the person with sole responsibility for something brings me out in hives. I feel the weight of it and because I want it all to be perfect I struggle with it. I have so many ideas but my resources and energy are limited and it is hard to find a balance between my perfect vision and my imperfect self. I am getting better at that but it still triggers my anxiety.


I think if I was a details perfectionist, maybe it would be different. But I am a relational perfectionist. I want everyone to be ok, to feel great about my ideas and plans, to feel valued and happy and I also care too much about what people think of me. And since I don't have the gift of mind reading, usually I am guessing based on very flimsy evidence and my current emotional state. I have no real idea what people think and I am likely to believe the worst rather than the best.


As well as the vulnerabilities of perfectionism and depression, I am a pretty low energy person. I need my eight hours a night. I need time to do the simple things and I don't do well without visual order in my home. I need my routines and space to think. So filling my days and evenings up soon leads to illness and exhaustion. All the great ideas start to look like terrible mistakes and I find myself backing out of commitments as fast as I can. But I still want to have a project and I still yearn to be involved.


And hear I find myself. My health has packed up in a big way. I have some sort of post viral fatigue and general exhaustion, my neck and back are causing terrible headaches every day. I struggle to get out of bed in the morning and have missed a lot of days of work. My kids are spending a lot of time in front of screens while I lie in bed and we are eating meals given to us by lovely friends because by the end of the day, cooking dinner is beyond me.


I am gaining a new appreciation of the suffering and pain of those who deal with chronic illness. The stress of not being able to manage the essentials of being a Mum and looking after my kids and home is indescribable. I try to accept help as much as I can manage, But it slowly erodes my self confidence and feels awful in the deepest parts of me. In the last 6 years I have had to have help a lot. And I think I am becoming allergic to it. I appreciate it all so much, but I hate having to have it at all.


Becoming well is not a clear cut treatment plan. Rest doesn't seem to be making a difference but trying to do everything leaves me unable to get out of bed. So just waiting to get better probably won't work unless I do something more than lie in bed. And everything that will help is going to be pretty tough. No magic pills to fix this. Diet changes, exercise, changing how I move, giving up things I use to cope which undermine my well being. I often find myself feeling so angry. It seems that other people can drink red bull, work long hours, party hard and still come out full of beans. But really it is irrelevant what other people do. At the moment a cup of tea after dinner has me awake all night and sitting the wrong way brings on a migraine like headache. I can feel sorry for myself, but it won't change anything.


I keep trying to find the reason why this is happening. What am I supposed to be learning through this? When will I be able to move on from this season into one where I can be productive again and feel like I am capable and strong again? But I also am starting to wonder if the "successful and well" me I have in my head is ever going to be possible.


My physio who is treating my back and breathing issues said something interesting the other day. She said that possibly all the things I have done to cope and survive have worked up till this point. But now with children and a home and work and other responsibilities and then you add a virus, my coping techniques and behaviours suddenly become problems rather than a help. Neglecting my diet, not making time for exercise, using anxiety as motivation and care too much what others think have become the exact things which have left me like this. So I can probably never go back to how it was. Cause how I have been living and doing life won't work any more.


Becoming well is beginning to look like learning how to be me from scratch. Dropping the ways that don't work and learning to welcome the ways that do. And I don't think it is going to be easy. I don't think much of it will involve taking the easy path. But I hope it can be self loving and gentle. I hope I can learn to achieve wellness without perfectionism and because I am worth it, rather than because I feel that I am failing otherwise. I didn't get this way by using alcohol, drugs or any other stereotypically destructive habits. But what I have been doing hasn't been that great. So I have to find the self discipline to put down the junk food, turn off my phone, put on my yoga pants and pick up the kale. To breathe and be still.


I know I should feel like it will be a wonderful journey, but at this point I still feel like crawling back into bed for an indefinite period. I think getting well will be hard work and confronting. No excuses or putting it off. Why does looking after myself seem so much harder that helping other people?

Don't be amazing

So much of the advice for living well and being successful at life uses adjectives like "amazing", "unique", "authentic" etc. And 2 minutes on pintrest is full of lists of steps, commands and changes which will give you and "amazing" life. When you add the highlight reel of facebook profiles and magazine articles about people who achieved the extraordinary, it can create an expectation that if it's not amazing then your life is a failure.

And I just want to call bulls$#/@ on that, for myself, as much as anyone else.

It is not that I think there is anything wrong with adventures and proving you life satisfaction. I think achieving wonderful things and setting goals to work towards are fantastic. My problem is with the expectations it sets up and the pressure it creates to have an amazing life.

I think the word "amazing" needs some interrogation.  Does it mean a perfect life of only mountain-top moments and pinable pics? Is it a life curated and constructed for an audience? Or is amazing all about achievement? Do you need to run a marathon, lose your own body weight, publish a novel, make a million bucks to have an amazing life? And what about those amazing experiences? Travelling to your dream destinations, riding the adrenaline rush of jumping from a plane, hosting a party people will talk about for years...

To be honest in my rather fragile state it all seems rather exhausting and completely out of my reach.

None of the above are bad and all are amazing, but maybe that's not what life needs to be about.

If amazing is the qualifying criteria for a good life then I guess most of us won't get that. And a lot of people may feel like their lives are spent as spectators of other people's "amazing". There are a lot of things which can get in the way of amazing; illness, responsibilities for others, financial realities, time and energy.

But I think everyone can have a life they love and are content with. And a life where they choose a good and whole and peaceful way to be. Where you use you talents and enthusiasm for things which matter to you and where you sleep a deep and restful sleep at the end of each day.

Where did this expectation of "amazing" come from? My parents didn't expect it. Their parents lived through two world wars and a depression. Surviving was pretty amazing. There was so much less to compare your own life with. Other people's homes, clothes, money and families were restricted to the people you knew in real life. Celebrities were far away characters on a screen you paid to see. Celebrations were simple and over the rhythms and moments that mark most people's lives. And you couldn't design your moments based on millions of people's moments. The suggestions came from the pages of a women's mag and included a recipe or two. Travel was slow and expensive. Leaving town was pretty amazing.

But now anything and everything is on offer. And the normal and everyday can seem a bland and boring life.

As I contemplate having barely enough energy to get out of bed, I can't be bothered with an amazing life. I think it is a carrot on a stick used to make people buy stuff and experiences and to drive economic growth.

Instead I want to be happy and free to do all the simple and humdrum things which life is really made up of. Meals, housework, playing at the park, a hot cup of tea and a nap. Loving my little family well. I want to do all of this and be satisfied and content. I don't want to dismiss this life as not enough cause it doesn't look "amazing".

And for two thirds of the world my life looks pretty, darn amazing. Yes, go after your dreams, have adventures, go for impossible goals. But don't do it so you have an amazing life.  Don't do it to prove anything or for some audience judging the worth if your existence.  Do it cause you want to and it is part of who you are. And at the end of each day you can be at peace with yourself.

I hope you can take the pressure off and just be you doing your life. And im pretty sure that's what us truly amazing in this crazy time we are living in.

Let it go

Oh the joys of Disney and the power of animated princesses. That little phrase will never be the same again. It was a hit at our house too. Ella loved the princesses and the music. George loved the snow but wasn't  too keen on the snow monster. I liked Olaf and his dreams of summer. His blissful ignorance that the season he wished for would lead to his demise had something tragically poetic about it.

But that song. Despite how annoying it became (Ella actually screams with pain if I sing it near her. Five year old girls love to be dramatic), there are sentiments I like.

Spoiler alert - if you have not seen Frozen then maybe save this post for another day...

Anyway, I like the words of the song as princess Elsa sings about the struggle to be good and acceptable and keep her ability to freeze things around her, under control. When she runs away she sings about being able to finally be free and let go. To be who she is and no longer locked away and afraid. Of course it is not that simple. But the freedom of being herself and expressing herself is clear. As I pondered why I found it so profound, I was struck by how easy it is to suppress my passion, enthusiasm, gifts or interests due to the fear that somehow that might not be acceptable to other people. Or that if I truly revealed who I am, and stopped trying to be what I think other people want, that I would be rejected and abandoned.

And that fear is not without reason. I imagine many of us have experienced times when others have rejected us because we have turned out to not fulfil their expectations of who we should be. Or someone has discovered that we are not the person they thought we were and they find it difficult to accept this new facet of our identity. It doesn't have to be something major. Maybe you became friends with someone through a mutual interest and all was great until you broadened the friendship. And suddenly it wasn't so easy. Maybe you have divergent views or ideas. Maybe you just don't understand each other. Or perhaps in a work situation you took a different view than a colleague you usually see eye to eye with. It can be so hard to let each other go. To let each other be who we are and not hurt each other in the process. Because none of us fit together comfortably all the time. There is always friction and discomfort because we are separate people, each working out our lives in different ways.

I am often hyper aware of the underlying expectations others may have of me and the narrow view they may have of my identity. Sometimes I cultivate that. I don't think it is deliberately deceptive. I think most of the time we want to find common ground with others and we emphasise what we have in common. And after a while it can be hard to bring attention to the parts of ourselves that don't fit the relationship so neatly. It is like when someone calls you by the wrong name and you don't correct them and after a while it is just too awkward to say anything. The same can be true when I realise that the box I have thrown myself into for the benefit of connection with someone, has become a bit of a cage.

And then I have a choice. Do I keep sitting in the box or do I risk stepping out and possibly breaking the relationship. You might think this is a bit dramatic. But have you got friends who you always expect to respond in a certain way to you? Do you have people who you expect to always understand why you are late cause they struggle with lateness too? What if they suddenly said when you turned up late to meet them for coffee "Hey, I am getting really frustrated that you are always late. I know I said I was also someone who struggled to be on time, but 45 minutes waiting for you is just too much". It is highly likely that you would feel hurt but also betrayed. You were buddies who were late together and she was supposed to get it. And she doesn't any more. Another example might be someone you met through a baby group but as your children get older you realise your parenting approaches are getting further and further apart and it is getting harder to spend time together cause at some point the differences will become so awkward that hanging out is not fun at all.

These boxes we find ourselves in are no-one's fault and often if you take the risk of stepping out of the box, your friendships and relationships will actually deepen as you get to know each other better. Suddenly the 2D cut out becomes 3D and that growing knowledge of each other can fill in so many of the gaps and make it so much more joyful to share life together.

But if you are people pleaser or someone who fears abandonment (both my hands are raised) it can be very hard to let go of the impression I have created and projected and allow myself to be seen as I really am.

At the same time it can be very painful when someone I know steps out of the box in front of me. Suddenly they aren't playing the game by the rules I expected. Suddenly I am not sure who they are anymore. My expectations are not being met and I .might be disappointed, or outright angry.

However, the only choice which will allow the relationship to remain intact, is to let it go. (Thanks Elsa). I need to let go of the need to control the opinions of other people about me. If I step out of the box and get rejected well it is probably for the best. I only want to be close to people who love me and accept me in all my mess and complexities. And others have the same rights too.

And who am I to know what anyone else thinks of me anyway? What a lot of wasted energy trying to manage other people's opinions. Instead I could be just getting on with living.

I remember a colleague talking to me about being in her 30s. I was bright eyed and angsting through my 20s. She said that the best thing about being almost 40 was that she just didn't care what anyone thought about her anymore. She was too busy getting on with living. I hope I can get busier living and let the opinions of other people go. They are just people anyway, and with just as many flaws and weaknesses as me. Well maybe not that many ...

Re-emerging

The summer holidays are always a surprise to me. With working part time as a secondary teacher and the pressure to complete all assessments, reports and end of year prize givings, plus now all the end of year events for my school age daughter, it seems I just stagger over the finish line as school ends. As I lie their gasping for breath, Christmas looms. I deliberately do no preparations for Christmas before about the 12th of December. Some may think I am unwise, but actually I think I am a genius. Having so little time to do anything before the big day means there can be no overly ambitious handmade, pintrist inspired, creativity. There are definitely no Christmas cards or family letters to post and even if I had the cash for lavish presents, I certainly don't have the time to buy them. This year I had a total of 3 hours to do all my Christmas shopping. George was at daycare and Ella was still at school. That meant I visited two shops and was done.

Now from that extremely utilitarian description of my lead up to one of the most significant days in the year, it would be understandable to conclude that I am not a person who enjoys the season and that gift giving and the traditions of advent don't really interest me. But that assumption could not be further from the truth. I love traditions and building them into our life as a family. I love buying presents for people and try to think about who they are as a person as I pick them. I also really enjoy baking and putting together food as a gift. I especially enjoy trying to make it a special day for my children. But over the last few years I have learned to set my expectations at the same level as my energy, and our finances. The result is that I have learned to accept what I am able to do, and though I look forward to a time when I can do more of what I love, I can let that go for now. I had moments this year of wishing we had all decorated the Christmas tree together (hubby took the kids and did it with them), or that I had made more handmade gifts, or that I made sure I had the Kings College Choir Christmas album to listen to as I wrapped presents (a tradition from my own childhood) or that I could buy more presents for more people and not worry so much about how to afford it. But it was still good. Perfect is not possible and isn't worth trying to achieve because it doesn't actually exist. The meaning of Christmas remains a constant no matter how much or little I do in preparation. An authentic Christmas means coming to that special day as I am.

And this year I was in bed with vertigo. Horrible spinning every time I moved my head. In days before Christmas I was so exhausted that getting up to prepare breakfast for the kids took superhuman effort. Every cell in my body yearned to sleep. I would have volunteered for a human version of hibernation if it had been offered to me. On Christmas morning I had hoped that rest and doing basically nothing for a week would mean I was fighting fit. But I wasn't. I managed that excitement of stocking opening and pancakes for breakfast but then had to crawl back to bed while hubby took the kids to church by himself. Then afternoon was thankfully spent with family and not at our house and I was so grateful that I didn't have to contribute much and could just sit still. It was a good reminder that there is no controlling this thing called life. Poor health and a mystery virus can strike at any time and is no respecter of circled days on the calendar.

The summer holidays have felt like extended convalescence and recuperation. Every day I napped and when I could I lay down. Hubby did most of the housework and keeping the kids entertained. I was really only useful to change the odd nappy and have cuddles on the couch. I have read about 5 novels. Probably 4 more books than I read all of last year. The heat has meant that lethargy is an acceptable way to be. And I have embraced it. Only two weeks ago did feel close to normal and back to myself. And finally this week I can imagine returning to work and not keeling over on the first day in exhaustion and shock. I am grateful beyond measure for my job which blesses me each year with so many holidays. This extended break over summer is a life saver.

I have also used the time to really focus on changing my diet. (I will write more about this later) I have also stopped having coffee, milk and gluten. This was all on the advice of a dr. I have been teetering all year on the brink of deep depression and increasing my medication regularly in the hope that finally I will reach that magic dose where the clouds lift but the side effects don't disrupt my life to much. So far no magic and so I am also beginning the process of weaning down. Too many side effects including this chronic fatigue that plagues me. And who knows what has made the difference and has me feeling well enough to actually write tonight. Maybe it is just having some Vitamin D, maybe it is getting more rest and not having stress or pressure. It could be the many supplements I am now taking or that somehow my diet is helping my body to function properly again. Who knows? All I know is that in December I was asking myself how I could actually do my life with so little energy and wondering whether other people had some sort of super power secret I wasn't privy to. Now I think I am accepting that I was physically burned out and that my stamina for busyness and stress is low. That's just how I am.

So 2014 was my year of No. I said "No" to a lot of ideas and opportunities. I said yes to one thing - planning and organising our church preschool programme. It has stretched me in some ways but in many ways it has refreshed me by reminding me of the core beliefs I have despite my times of struggle and questioning. And in the end any positive growth in me this year stems from the renewal of that foundation which I base my life upon.

2015 seems to be rolling along at a frightening pace already but I have been so grateful for the easing into it which I have been able to do. I have been considering what the focus for this year might be. I am thinking about choosing my attitude and actions rather than letting thoughts and emotions drive me and feeling powerless to their influence. I don't believe in denying how I feel but I do believe that once acknowledged, I can then choose my response in the light of wisdom and in the knowledge that my perception is often clouded. A blog I read a lot uses the phrase "we can do hard things". This is my hard thing. To establish some self control over my mind and heart and choose the right thing, even when it will challenge me. I am not thinking of any massive situations. I am thinking of those days when I wish I didn't have to go to work. Instead of frantically searching for a way to quit, I want to remind myself that my job is a blessing and that today is just a hard day. This will save me the exhausting tension of rethinking everything all the time just cause it feels hard. So I am welcoming 2015 knowing that I am going to need to build some muscles and do some practice but I "can do hard things".

Joy at Advent

On Sunday I had the privilege of speaking at church on the them of Joy. It was terrifying. But the process of writing what to say and thinking it all through was so good for me. I hope you find it gives you some joy or comfort in this silly and sometimes painful season.

Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.’ Luke 2:10-12

People don't tend to use the word “JOY” in normal conversation. We talk about happiness more often. There is even a growing field of happiness research. It seems that being “happy” is something we struggle with and it seems to be something that is a growing problem of the first world. We buy things, travel to places, take all manner of substances, give up gluten, take up yoga, get married, get divorced, downsize, and upsize, all in the hope of finding happiness. But it doesn't seem to stay around for long. And in the end it seems that we are all heading to the same place but flailing around quite a bit as we go there. From a less extreme stand point, happiness seems to mean the daily small things that make life easier or more pleasurable. A delicious meal, a day that went smoothly, listening to a song you like, finally achieving a goal. All good things and all make life more satisfying and fun. I had a pedicure yesterday. That was definitely an experience that made me happy. But did it make me joyful?

It doesn't seem a coincidence that happiness researchers have found that people who practise gratitude, prayer, meditation and serving others, report greater happiness than those who don't. Maybe because that is the way we were designed to live?

When Tim sent me the list of topics I could choose to speak about I chose Joy. Some that no me well will recognise the irony in this. It is something that seems to be a struggle for me. I have struggled with depression most of my adult life and severely since having children. For me, life can feel like being in a t.v show. I follow the script and laugh at all the right times, but inside I am not experiencing it. Inside I am tortured by feelings of self-doubt, perfectionism and self loathing. I feel overwhelmed by all that needs doing and feel stretched too thin. Not very joyful really. And as a Christian, something I have wrestled with a great deal. How can I be so sad when I apparently have such hope? How can I struggle to love myself while knowing how much Jesus loves me? How can having children, something I have longed for and hoped for - also bring such pain and struggle?

So I have thought long and hard about happiness. And have decided that though it is nice to feel happy, there is very little in the Bible that indicates that we can expect happiness as a normal state of being while here on earth. That is not to say we will not experience happiness, but it just isn't the point, I don't think. But there is quite a lot about joy.

Joy is deeper. Joy seems to come to the fore when things are not going so well. It is a deeper river that keeps flowing, even in suffering and pain. It allows us to touch the eternal and divine. It is experienced in death of a loved one, as we celebrate knowing and loving the person who is lost while also being torn apart by it. It is felt as we welcome a new child, despite knowing that we will now forever feel responsible for another person and possibly experience a great deal of pain along the journey. Joy is the relief of admitting we cannot do it alone and we need help, and someone taking our hand and saying you are not alone and we will do it together. Joy is sharing my pain and struggle, and instead of advice or a look of shock, the person says “me too”.

To me Joy, rather than the temporary status of “happy”, is all about the eternal. I experience Joy when I wake early in the morning, go outside and hear the birds waking, smell the fresh newness of the day and see all that God has created. There is a sense of the divine and the eternal. There is Joy.

I experience Joy when I see a student suddenly become curious and thirsty for knowledge or finally seeing how precious they are after being judged or put down by others. My joy is in seeing that they are glimpsing their God given and eternal value.

Joy for me is talking with someone and having a meeting of mind and heart. Hearing each other deeply and sharing a love and care that I know comes from God. This is a joy that goes beyond the conversation to something deeper. It reminds me that God is love and he himself is the example of community and true relationship.

Joy is new spring growth on an apparently dead tree.

It seemed appropriate to show this picture after Jesse's stump was introduced as a symbol to meditate on during advent. Some of you may remember when I led communion in the depths of winter in July. I talked about a plum tree which I was sure had died. It looked like a stick. No green to be seen. Nick and I had agreed to disagree about it. He was certain that come spring I would be proved wrong. With my typical knowing smile I said “Well, come spring I guess we will find out”. The knowing smile is me knowing I am right...

But I was wrong. Here is a picture of the tree.

Now that is a picture of joy. Despite all visible evidence to the contrary, that plum tree was alive.

We are so used to hearing the Christmas story and knowing it is a story about Joy. But if you didn't know the whole story. If you were living it as it happened, the evidence, and the way the situation unfolds around the birth of Jesus, isn't one that immediately points to JOY. And it definitely doesn't include too much happiness.

Imagine the Christmas story as a series of headlines appearing in the NZ Herald. We all probably feel like the news is the last place to look for Joy. And the Christmas story is full of apparent bad news.

Unmarried and pregnant – condemned by Jewish leaders. Mary may have been a privileged woman chosen by God to bare His own son, but it wasn't a great situation to be in. This is why the angel may have told her not to be afraid.

Heavily pregnant woman forced to travel on donkey for census – I would not have been happy to travel on a donkey at 9 months pregnant, but I guess it was better than walking.

Accommodation shortage in Bethlehem – forced to sleep with animals – sleeping in the stable would have been similar to sleeping in a wool shed. Not pleasant.

Massacre of first born sons – Thousands flea to Egypt

So it is all about perspective. Knowing who Jesus is and what God's plan was for his life means we know that even though the evidence seems gloomy, it all works out in the end.

It is all about what you are looking for. Despite her fear, Mary welcomed the angel who brought her the news of her pregnancy and that she was to give birth to God's son. She agreed to be part of God's plan without knowing how it would all work out and at great risk to herself and her reputation. She was possibly risking Joseph abandoning his promise to marry her. Her faith and knowledge of God's goodness meant she chose to have a perspective of faith and hope, despite the struggles and challenges she would face. She had no idea what it would mean to be Jesus' mother. She would only have known the hope for a Messiah that all the Jewish people were holding onto while suffering the Roman occupation. She made a choice to believe in Her God, rather than the very real risks she faced.

Luke 2:13-19

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”
So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.

 Mary was chosen by God because He knew she was the right woman to be the mother of Jesus. This passage I think reveals one of the reasons why. She has been through the most amazing experience. I think all births are. But she had the added knowledge that her son was the Messiah. She knew that everything that happened was ordained by God. The shepherds who were visited by angels and prompted to visit Jesus and the amazing visitations by angels that both she and Joseph had experienced. In her life the practical details of travelling by donkey, having nowhere to stay and a rather uncomfortable place for a birth, must have become small in scale, compared with the eternal perspective God had given her about her life. Mary's Joy came from having an eternal perspective of her own life and experience. I think Mary's approach can teach me a lot about Joy. When I let my mind believe that the evidence around me reveals truth and reality then I let my joy and hope disappear into despair. But when I remember that God has a plan and that the story is not finished I remember Joy and I look for His hand and His movement around me. I hear His voice and I commit myself afresh to follow His prompting.

As we approach Christmas again and prepare our hearts to celebrate the birth of Jesus the reason we sing carols that say “Joy to the World” is because there are so many reasons not to feel joyful. If the world was already filled with Joy we wouldn't need to sing it. But we are in need of Joy. The evidence around us can seem pretty grim. It can seem that evil is triumphing and that we are suffering and that sometimes it is all too hard. But unlike Mary, we have the gift of knowing how the story ended. Well, actually it didn't end. His birth was one beginning. But in Jesus's death we find the true beginning.

Our Joy at Christmas is that in that little baby there is hope and the promise of forgiveness, the end of all suffering, injustice, pain or death and the beginning of a new life. That life is about living now in relationship with the creator of the universe and with Jesus who truly knows the pain and struggle we experience, but also gives us the Holy Spirit to comfort us, guide us, encourage and embolden us so that we can experience and dwell in the Joy of knowing Him and making Him known. He gives us an eternal perspective of ourselves and our purpose here on this earth. Because our lives are just the beginning too.

And even as we know this truth, sometimes it can still be a struggle. And joy seems far off. But when all seems lost and the pain is too great I hold onto this. My favourite verse:

You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand. Psalm 16:11

This is not a request. This is a statement of fact. It is not conditional on your efforts or a promise for the future. It is now. His presence now can bring us Joy. A Joy that is holy, healing and can quench a thirst that on He can satisfy.

  

I pray that for all of us this Christmas, we will know His presence, feel his hand upon us and know His deep and strong and healing love. And that by his Holy Spirit, we will know His joy.

As we go out may we also listen to his voice. He is Emmanuel, God with Us. And he goes with us as we share our Joy in Him, with those around us. Faith in Jesus is not a promise of happiness, but it is a promise that you will never be alone and that in a world that seems to have lost its way, that each person is loved and has meaning and purpose. He is moving and his promise of an end to suffering will come. Now that is something I can be joyful about.

Facts over feelings

Hi world.
This year really is proving to be hard work. No big reasons for that. Except my brain still threatens to slide back into depression. My struggles with the tension between what I want to be able to be and do and reality steal my peace and joy. I dream of some greater peace. I see glimpses of it and I keep being reminded that I am enough now. However, 35 years of feeling less than is hard to shake.

One of the questions I ask myself in an attempt to stop my negative thinking is "Is what I am telling myself, the facts, or the feelings?"
Often my feelings take me off what is really happening into a reality I am creating out of the emotions thay arise.

Yesterday os a good example. I was just exhausted. As it was Sunday, hubby was home. So after lunch I said I just couldn't keep going without a nap. As I lay in bed starting to doze off, the feelings were failure and letting everyone down. I felt that me not being up and involved meant I was a bad mother.

Was any of that true? No. But my unrealistic expectations of myself create those feelings when I have to admit I am actually human and need rest.

The facts helped to check if the feelings really reflected reality. And those facts were that I was really tired and needed a nap. Everyone needs a rest and asking for one is wise.

And checking the facts helped. I enjoyed my nap and woke up feeling much better.

I hope that in time I can have more realistic expectations and that the feelings and thoughts I have would become more gentle and self compassionate.  But in the throws of being overwhelmed by self destructive self talk, remembering to check my facts definitely helps.

Resurfacing

The suspense must be killing you! Unlikely, but after my post about struggling again with depression and increasing my dose of medication I haven't updated on how it is going. And it seems as if there has been too much happening both in the mundane of my daily life and in the massive of world events, to make space for my situation.

But busy with mundane is actually a good sign. The new dose has made a huge difference. After two weeks I was waking up looking forward to the day and with energy to actually do it. I feel like I am no longer bumping along the bottom but have resurfaced and can see the world in colour again. That first glimpse is such joy cause I forget that it really is so good, life and living and being. And so for about two weeks life felt just so awesome! I was revelling in being myself again. The real me that is often muffled and numb and so tired by it all.

But now the thrill has worn off a bit. Cause it does. Sometimes it wears off so much that it doesn't last and I start sinking. But I don't think that is what is happening. I think it is just the reality that a pill is not the whole fix. I have to keep take responsibility for the thoughts in my head. And the medication has definitely helped create a pause between a thought and my reality. It is like each thought or at least the negative and deceptive and damaging ones, has to pass through a toll booth, or a traffic light, and I can stop and ask "Is that true?" And then I can choose to replace it with something that is more real and productive. Hear is an example from my A rotation of untrue thinking.

"I cannot cope with this" (This is common at about 7:30am when feeling still tired, I am navigating the feeding, clothing and general chaos of the morning with the whole day ahead of me)

Stop light on.

"Mmm. I am coping with this. This is a normal morning with kids.  I have made Ella's lunch and I know what we will have for dinner. I am tired from being woken in the night. That is understandable. I need to eat my breakfast and have a shower. Turn on Peppa Pig so you can do that. Get dressed. Leave the mess till later." (I can remind myself of what is going well and make a plan of what to do next. I can be kind to myself)

I have such a huge collection of A Rotation lies and negative thoughts. And I also know how to address them and replace them. But without that pause, I am at their mercy and I am drowned by them.

So now that I am feeling better there is a risk that I will take the pause for granted, rely on those two little pills to keep me going, and carry on in my perfectionist patterns. But I know what eventually will happen. My energy will run down, my stress and anxiety will increase and eventually the pause will disappear again.

To maintain the pause, and the self-awareness and peace that comes with that, I actually have to do some tough stuff. It is tough because I have to have some self-discipline and some ways of doing life to keep me well. Any time I try to do that I can end up turning them into rules to beat myself with and instead of freeing me, they become a way to judge myself. So it is no small thing.

I have always been in awe of people who just decide that they are going to take up running. They decide they will run three times a week. And they do. Or sometime they don't. And their sense of self and self worth is not affected by their running status. Amazing!

For me remaining well includes getting good sleep, boundaries with my phone and being on facebook, doing exercise and eating regularly with no sugar added. Spending time alone but also with friends and spending time in prayer and reading my Bible. These are not things I should do, they are necessary for me to be ok. When I neglect these things I feel worse.

And honestly out of that whole list, I am doing none of them. Well probably sleeping pretty well, except for when little people need tending to. So it is a bit of a list and quite a bit of change to make. But it needs to happen because I do not want to go down again. And I am really to accept that I have limits and need to take care of myself.

Believing I can write

I was very flattered a few weeks ago when I was asked to write a piece for the Kiwi Families website. I have wanted to do more writing for a long time but have struggled with self confidence and time to actually do it. I have had so much positive feedback from people about my blog and my writing and I also love doing it. But it always falls the bottom of the list and there never seems to be enough space for it.

But writing this piece has made me really think about the fact that if I love this so much then I actually have to make space in my life for it. There are always reasons not to do something. I can think of a list a mile long. But even before and chaos and craziness of have kids, I still didn't make the time.

I read a lot of blogs. Mummy bloggers I guess. But many of these Mums who write see themselves as "writers". Their writing is not a hobby. It is there vocation. They aim to make a difference in the world through their words. I see their lives through the filter of what they choose to reveal and it is easy to idolise or assume they inhabit some alternate universe where the normal limits and obstacles do not apply. But these writing women also tend to be pretty vulnerable and honest and you can also see that writing for them is a choice and a discipline. A sacrifice of other things to make space for their hearts and passion for writing. And it is a battle to overcome self doubt and pride and ego to write things worthy of the pixels and paper they take up. You cannot deny the practical realities of life, such as the fact that I have to work, that I still have one preschooler who I need and want to spend quality time with. But there are no rules of how often or how much. There are no strict deadlines or goals to achieve. I just need to make space to do what I love.

Bumping along the bottom

I am sure you have heard the phrase "a bottom feeder". It is a metaphor for someone who feeds off the lowest and seediest parts of life. I am not that. But I am recognising that it is possible to be stuck at the bottom in life. Imagine a bottom feeding fish, swimming around in the almost dark and murky waters. All this fish sees is the mud a few centimeters in front of it's face. It is oblivious to the amazing wonders just a few metres above, where the sun's light reveals more and encourages life to thrive and grow.

In this sense I have been a bottom feeder. And the worst thing about it is you don't really know you are. You actually start to believe that all there is is mud. You lose faith that there could be anything else. Mud becomes normal.

For the last 6 months I have been on a new medication.  It is an SNRI and works to make my brain more sensitive to both seratonin and noradrenaline.   Gradually I have been increasing my dose, with the support of my very caring doctor. I didn't want to be on more medication than I needed. This new medication goes up in very small increments but the maximum dose is very high in pure grams than my previous medication. But what I am learning is you cannot compare dosages between medications. It would be like comparing 500g of beef mince with 500g of ground black pepper.  One is a good family meal, the other could be used as a form of torture.  Anyway, after multiple increases between January and March, I was feeling better.

I wasn't in that horrible blackness and having the awful self hatred or thoughts of self harm, ( the shame of sharing that I struggle with that level of depression and those thoughts is so huge). And since it had been that bad, things seemed so much better. Unfortunately with this type of medication, a positive response to an increased dose just confirms it was necessary.  But if the dosage is still inadequate, the positive side effects will gradually wear off. Slowly the water gets murkier and you sink millimeter by millimeter down into the mud.

I would think to myself as I woke up with dread in the morning, that is was just tired. As I became more and more overwhelmed I told myself that my kids weren't sleeping well and my hours at work had changed. It was understandable. And then I started thinking it was probably my fault. That right there is the powerful deception of depression. The mud and murkiness is my fault. If I just exercised more, or was stronger or calmer or like those mums over there...until I forgot that maybe it was just that my brain was broken. And not my fault at all.

I am so grateful for more objective measures of my mental wellbeing such as the Edinburgh scale. I can go it online and it gives me an indication of whether I am ok. If I am aware enough I can catch a slide downhill before it gets to crisis point. And this time I did. And two weeks after another dosage increase , the sun is out and I am swimming to the surface again. I ask myself "why did I let myself suffer for so long?" The sad answer is that if you are used to suffering from the very lonely pain of depression it is easy to put up with things being not ok for a very long time before thinking "I deserve better and I remember the light".

So now I am hoping and praying that if this increase is not enough, that I will realise and not drift down to the bottom again.

Everything is awful

I have very strong feelings. I also tend to have all or nothing thought patterns and add to that a sense that i am responsible for the well being and success of humanity, i am rather vulnerable to thinking "everything is awful and it's all my fault".

If you know anything about the Myers Briggs personality types, based on the work of Carl Jung, I am an ENFJ. So I am all about how I feel and this can be a problem.  It can be hard to know if the way I feel is because of certain circumstances or whether my feelings are actually driving my perception of my circumstances.  Probably both are happening in a kind of self-fulfilling feedback loop. Whether the feedback loop is positive or negative depends on all sorts of factors.

Here is a list of contributions to the mix organised into loose categories. These are the negative influences on how I feel about life snd myself. If I can tick too many on the list then it will only be s matter of time before everything feels awful.

Physical
- poor or interrupted sleep
- hormones (I can guarantee a bad week due to pmt
- missing meals, too much junk or sugar.
- lack of fresh air, sunshine and exercise.
- having any illness or pain.

Environment
- mess or lack of visual order
- jobs around the house that need doing
- no connection with nature
- a negative vibe such as conflict or anger

Parenting
- feeling that I am not 'coping'. This usually means I am struggling to meet the practical demands and expectations I have of myself as a mum.
- tough stage of development for kids such as needing lots of supervision or hitting etc. Or clingy so lots of crying and high needs.

Relationships
- lack of quality time and connection with hubby
- conflict or hurt in friendships
- not keeping healthy boundaries with others.

Activities
- social, either not enough or stressful
- stress at work
- over committed and dont have enough time to do it all.
- lack of selfcare such as brushing teeth before bed
- not making time to read, pray, write.

Medication
- did I take my antidepressant and is the current dose and type working?

Random stuff
- bad traffic
-running late
- unforseen happenings ...

All the above and any combination can trigger negative thought patterns which then turn into...

"Everything is awful
I am awful."

And the feeling of that becomes my reality. The darkness comes down and if I am not careful, it can overwhelm me.

Last night I found myself seriously thinking about going back to work full time, despite knowing only 24 hours earlier that not only was that unwise, it was not what I truly wanted.

But that's the problem with extreme thinking and big feelings. You get lost so fast.

After a good talk with hubby and the process of recognising what contributed to it, I seem to be seeing things more clearly. I am able to take some steps back and start to question the thoughts that lead me down that dark hole. But that's a whole other post...

I guess I am realising that if I dont learn to see the signs that I am not ok then I am at the mercy of this horrible roller-coaster.  It has already had such a devastating impact on me and if I let the feelings keep dragging me down it threatens to keep me down and I might not know how to get up again. They are feelings, not facts. They are based in fact but if I give them too much power they can stop me from actually being ablevto function.

I miss this

So I gave up... including writing. Not that it has been a regular thing for the last year or so but almost every, single day I think about something I want to write. But I don't. Cause I don't want my thoughts to be for the purpose of publishing first and me later.

I am a natural teacher. Before a revelation about life has even revealed itself to me I am already thinking about how I could share this new found clarity. There is a large amount of ego in there I think. Something to do with proving that I am somehow wise about this world and how to live in it. But there is also this inbuilt reflex in me to be a teacher or guide. Not someone ahead showing the way but maybe someone who doesn't mind being honest about their own journey so that you can know you are not alone. Or so that you can see things in a new or different way. Or receive some sort of comfort or hope or something.

But as part of my "Year of No", as 2014 has been affectionately dubbed, this has included a no to writing this blog. I wanted to check in on the motivations and just what I wanted to achieve. I also wrestle with the vulnerability of how honest I want to be and also the privacy and respect I want to give my husband and family. I am not a secret keeper. I am probably an oversharer. So I am still working out how I can be authentic and real here but also guard myself. I am not an island and the ripples from what I write have surprised me at times.

But I miss this.
I miss writing my thoughts and journaling just doesn't seem to do it for me in the same way. I know that out there or here, on the inter-web, thousands, probably millions of people, are blogging about some aspect of their experience here on this planet. And it is easy to say it is not worth the pixels it is written in. But by what are we measuring its worth? The example of the continual popularity of cat memes and videos shows that worthiness is not something easily quantified.

So I want to write again. As I feel restless and struggle to keep saying No this year and try to stay strong in the face of my addiction to trying new things that are too much for me to manage, writing here is a little yes that doesn't require too much from me and is something that reminds me that I am more than the daily repetition and sameness I feel right now. It is a little piece of creativity and creation just for me.

Oh and you.

Giving up in 2014

I hate this time of year. The no-man's land between Christmas and New Year. It's not that I specifically hate the days. They are often lovely and full of fun and relaxation and a wonderful "nothing to do" vibe. But it also has that sense of approaching doom for me of another year beginning. Think the soundtrack of Jaws...

It has not always been this way. I am naturally a lover of all things fresh and new and full of possibility. I am a planner by nature and used to love to think about what I would be doing in the coming year. But over the last decade or so I have become jaded and frankly completely afraid of facing the new year as appears on the horizon.

You see, reflecting on the past year and planning for a new one is like cocaine for a perfectionist, planner with unrealistic expectations, such as myself. I guess for an alcoholic the New Years party creates its own share of temptation and risk. And for me, the list of resolutions has grown to become something I run from. This is where the alcoholic analogy falls over completely so please disregard any connection from here on.

Imagine loving to plan but becoming fearful that all a plan becomes is a trap to throw myself into and live in for the rest of the year. If I follow the plan I am "good", if I don't I am a failure. And the plan itself is only based on whatever felt important at the time I wrote it. Oh and it was written by a perfectionist with unrealistic expectations so it was also completely impossible and detailed and really was a set up for failure from the beginning. Add to this not just a plan, but specific goals that deal with specific things I want to do EVERY SINGLE DAY!

So in reaction to the obvious flaws in the above approach, I stopped goal setting, planning or really expecting anything. At least officially. I was and remain a very harsh critic and the expectations, whether written or not, still float around in my head as some kind of yard stick of "living well". Unfortunately this has led to me losing some of the joy I do find in looking forward to the future.

When I was a teenager and couldn't get to sleep I used to daydream until it turned into real dreams and I drifted off. My daydreams would be about actual things I was looking forward to or hopes and dreams I had about the future. I often thought about what my life would be like when I "grew up". This usually meant move out of home, go to Uni, get a job etc. This was the stuff which reminded me while I struggled through the angst of teenage-hood, that there was another age and stage around the corner where I would be able to make more choices, have more freedom and maybe the self confidence to be the someone I was sure I was, hidden under my insecurities and awkwardness.

And I have to say my 20s were a lot like that. My dreams didn't quite come true but I loved the decade as I grew into myself and made so many wonderful friends. I became more comfortable about who I was. But it still was never enough. Each New Year approached and I would try again. Often the same goals rewritten with a twist for 2002 or a focus on something which was becoming more important to me at the time. But every year I looked back and was disappointed in myself. After a while I stopped. Why do something which makes me feel so bad even if at its heart, I wanted to make my life better?

However, it seems this year that there is a change in the air. This week I have felt so exhausted as the weight of how hard the white knuckle ride of the last 6 months has been. I honestly feel that hibernating for 6 months is required for me to ever venture beyond my front door again. And so I find myself thinking that I better make a plan. This time the plan is not to improve myself, well not in the usual sense. I think this plan could be more about avoiding breakdown.

I think I need a plan to work within my capacity, to treat myself as fragile and to recognise that this body I am in and the person I am will actually fall apart both literally and figuratively if I keep living like I am. I am still allergic to the idea of goals and feel the tentacles of perfectionism beginning to tickle my ankles even as I stand paralysed this side of January 1st 2014. This plan will not be about being "better" or "improvement". It will be about weakness and vulnerablity, saying "No, I can't manage to do that". And being able to sit with my imperfection. I say I believe in a God who loves me as I am and has made me in his image. I say I believe that I am forgiven for anything and everything I could ever do or have done that would hurt myself or anyone else. I say I love others because I can see how fearfully and wonderfully we all are and how precious we are. But somehow I seem to think and behave as if none of the above applies to me. And this year I plan to give up. Give up on trying so hard to do things that don't matter and leave me in a pit of self loathing hiding under my duvet.

Hopefully the plan can remain a relief and not a noose around my neck. There is a glimmer of hope here but so many roads that still lead down the path of not-good-enough and unacceptable. I wonder if I can create a new path. I pray I can cause this one is a dead end. Pun intended.

balance is for bikes and I am not a bike

One term into working full time and juggling all the different parts of my life, there is a sort of an auto pilot going on in my head. I feel the need to cram in as many "to dos" into each day and even when I try to stop, my brain keeps on trucking. There have been so massive upsides to working and I do love it. But the downsides are pretty clear too. Hubby and I have spend the last few weeks reflecting on our choice and we are blessed to have the option of reversing our decision and me going back to my two or three days a week in the new year.

Throughout the term I have been confronted with the lack of personal time I have, the poor food choices I make when meals seem to be an extra that I just can't fit into the mix, and the other commitments I have with my local Parents Centre. Add to that the usual no-win guilt trip of not being with my kids during the day and all the household things such a meals, laundry, cleaning and the list goes on. My hubby barely gets a look in and my friends are almost strangers, since I don't get a chance to hang out much anymore. And I still wish I could do more - more work, more volunteering, more fun with the kids, more quality time with hubby, more, more, more...

A friend just sent me a link to a document which allows you to evaluate your quality of life and lists the characteristics of a balanced life. There are lots of other models or lists like this that include the various aspects of life - emotional, spiritual, mental, physical and relational. So there are many ways to cut up the pie. And the inherent view within them all is that if you make thoughtful choices and drop some things and take up others, that you will one day reach the nirvana that is BALANCE.
But you know what? If I look around me, balance is actually not that normal.

If I look for balance and examples of it in the people I know I have to say I don't know many. I definitely admire those people who take care of themselves, avoid over commitment and maintain a positive outlook on life due to making sure their needs are met. But I reject the idea that balance is the key.

If I look for balance in the natural world or in our garden, I don't really see the tidy and balanced world I would expect. For example, we are hoping for a tomato glut as summer takes hold, and we actually want one. We want to be able to have lots for pasta sauce, tomato sauce, salads etc. And if you look at our garden right now, it is pretty barren. Partly due to lack of attention but also because we chose to plant crops over winter which will renew the soil. So they have been dug back in and it is ready for planting. In the world around me I see seasons where sometimes things are busy and productive and to the untrained eye, wildly out of control. And then are other times things die back, they rest, they wait. If the garden got stuck in the productive phase for too long, the soil would become depleted and production would drop. Then a time of feeding and waiting would begin before plants could grow to their potential again.

I am wondering whether that is a reality of life that should be more acceptable and actually means that I feel that I can cope and even thrive during this wild time. I can enjoy the busyness and the feeling of being productive. But I also need to plan a season of rest and renewal.

I know that the foundations, or soil of my life are my faith, family, friends and time to do things I enjoy. I will never be able to live well for long without tending to these. But each day or week or even month will not be a neatly divided exercise. That seems to be more about rules and ticking boxes, than living with the ebbs and flows of life.

There are some regular things you need each day to keep being productive - good food, good sleep, and time to just be. I need to value myself and this season enough to make these a priority.
But I no longer want to justify my choices to myself or to those around me who greet my current commitments as fool hardy or heading for a fall. I have not walked away from what is important to me. I have not abandoned my post or let anyone down. I am learning a lot and enjoying this season. And come December, and the school holidays, a new season will begin.

Balance is for bikes. Instead I choose to live in the seasons.

More on how to deal with depression

One of my favourite depression blogs/advocates is the guy who Lilo's down the Waikato river. Here is his latest post all about the things he does to manage his depression.

What I really like about his approach is that he doesn't take his depression personally. He approached getting well in quite a practical way. He doesn't believe in endless navel gazing. Instead he does stuff that helps him feel better.

So here is his recipe for wellness.

http://www.livemoreawesome.com/how-i-deal-with-my-depression/

May! It has sure been a while...

I think about blogging almost every day. And then my day happens and at the end I can barely string together a couple of grunts in the general direction of hubby so writing something meaningful and real just doesn't happen.

But I kind of left you hanging...

So relapse has passed. The magic of another 20mg of paroxitine has done its work and my head appeared above the darkness again. And off I went.

And then the roof started leaking. According to my Dad it was a torrential down pour onto the kitchen bench. I would describe it as more of an incessant drip. And as the drips dropped my fate was sealed. Full time work.

You see home ownership seems to have a huge power over my destiny at present and thankfully I was able to get full time work at my current school. We now have a regrouted roof, complete with waterproof coating and ceiling and underfloor insulation. It is like our home has a lovely blanket wrapped around it.

And as part of the process of full time work there has also been the arrival of the 18 year old German au pair. We are settling into a new way of being in our home. Settling probably isn't the right word. I guess squirming and wriggling around to get to a new place that feels comfortable and "normal". I love having an adult at home when I get there and the kids love her, but it is a process and I am so aware of this other person and their needs and I can no longer just assume and know how we do things around here.

I have also dived into being more involved in my local parents centre. I have been passionate about parent education for a long time, even before having kids and my involvement in the local branch came about through my interest in child birth education. It is really satisfying to be part of an organisation that is committed to providing high quality, evidence based, education to parents and it ticks a lot of boxes for me. I love to be involved in things like this and it suits my strengths. Unfortunately, time is not on my side so life is feeling very full. And it feels like some things are being accidentally dropped.

Full time work is really impacting on our family life and home. Every day is a treadmill work out, trying to run fast enough to avoid being thrown off the back of it. I am hyper aware of everyone elses needs and all my responsibilities and my needs seems to be endlessly negotiable. Down to eating and going to the toilet. Optional extras I might squeeze in on a strangely quiet day.

When I am working, I love it.
When I am at home I want to be here more.
When I am hosting antenatal classes or hosptial tours I feel fulfilled.
But my hubby gets the worst of me. When I am empty and the self neglect is taking its toll.

I have been feeling so annoyed at myself for being so jolly pollyanna about everything I ever get involved in. Everything seems a worthy cause, I am always having these great ideas and wanting to do it all.

And then I find myself grumpy and burnt out and realising as I walk around the school vege garden, that my soul is parched and I am as shrivelled up inside as a prune. Just the simple act of picking some lettuce for my sandwich has such a profound impact on me. Like an oasis in a desert. Actually make that a puddle. But if it all the water you have seen in days, it may as well be a lake.

And I just keep hoping that my strength will last, and the creeping anxiety, the procrastinating about going to bed, the heart palpitations that strike whenever I try to relax, will somehow turn into nothing. But I have been hear before and this is a familiar story and so I know where this will end up. And I cannot have another relapse.

So I am trying to simplify. Get back to the things that feed me. Like wrestling with the kids on our bed, or choosing to read a nice book instead of watch crap t.v. Or to go outside and feed the chickens instead of dashing around trying to clean.

And I am recognising that I feel quite lost. It seems that over the last few years my landscape has shifted. I am uncertain about so much. I keep doing what I think I believe in. And hoping that if I do lots then somehow I will find my way back to some peace or rest. But I haven't and I don't thing I will. At least not doing it this way.

I was reading today and the book was talking about the peace of letting go, not planning, just asking. standing still. And all of me wanted to put down my burdens, lie down, and rest.

Not sure how that can happen. But if I don't choose to, then I think I will find myself falling down and unable to get up.

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Musings on my mental illness

Okay, so the current bout of depression has me facing some facts I would rather not face.

1. I will probably struggle with depression my whole life.
I don't want this to be true and I know that there is always a chance that the perfect pill, learning to live with myself better and a miracle are all possible and that a future without depression could happen. But the present situation provides a great deal of evidence to the contrary. And I hate that this could be true. It sucks for me and my family, especially my husband. It is knowing you will live with a person who has a chronic illness which impacts on their ability to be themselves and function and be the partner that are supposed to be. I can't speak for him. But I hate that our future could be punctuated with me disappearing under a black cloud and him having to cope with it.

2. My meds aren't working anymore.
I have increased the dose and the anxiety is gone, mostly. But the dispair has really moved in to stay, as it were. This means I will probably have to change meds. This is terrifying as the process can make you feel even worse, before you feel better, and there is no guarantee that I will only have to switch once.

3. There is no magic fix for this.
I have been through this enough times now to know that no one thing will make enough difference.

Here are the basic models of treatment and recovery from my very amateur observations and reading:

• The JK way (John Kirwan) - he credits his recovery and wellness with active relaxation and exercise. 
• The "Live More Awesome" way - this is the guy who set a goal to float down the Waikato river on a lilo to raise money for the Mental Health Foundation. He also recently created the longest water slide ever. He doesn't believe in therapy so much as setting big goals, the achievement of which make life exciting and worth living for.
• The talk therapy way - there is a lot of evidence for the efficacy of various forms of therapy to help work through issues or experiences which may contribute to mental illness. However, it is quite dependent on the relationship with the therapist. I personally have found psychotherapy really helpful. The principles behind it is that the actual relationship you have with the therapist can be used to face things in a safe and empathetic way and also learn how healthy relationships can function.
• Cognitive behavioural therapy - this focusses on how the thoughts we have can help or hinder our mental health. What stories do we tell ourselves about the world around us, the people we interact with and daily events? What assumptions do we make? Is their really evidence for that? It encourages changes in thinking patterns to move away from thinking that isn't useful or helpful. 
• Natural therapies - this may include supplements, diet changes, acupuncture etc. There is a lot of evidence to support some approaches and diddly squat for others. You also have to be very careful because often medications for mental illness have contraindications with natural medicines and herbs. There are also people making bucket loads of money off vulnerable and desperate people.
• Healthy lifestyle - good diet and exercise all help to increase the good feelings in the body. Eating like crap and living on the couch would make anyone feel a bit gloomy. That said, if you in the throws of depression the energy required to do anything seems to require superhuman effort. I am not a great example of using this approach ;)
• The skills approach - this aims to increase a person's resilience to the ups and downs of life by introducing skills which give a person greater control and mastery over their mental state. Psychologists often focus on this and CBT is part of this approach. This may include mindfulness techniques, meditation, strategies to use in a crisis or when a mood or action is triggered. 
• A spiritual approach - this has overlaps with other approaches and can be as vague or as structured as the spiritual beliefs which the approach is based on. There is the very unhelpful "mental illness is demonic possession" approach. Now I am a Christian and I do believe in evil as an actual thing in the world, but it is not wise to tell someone with a mental illness that they have a demon in them. The people I know who are wise and discerning in the church understand that one prayer session may not bring the instant healing which we all would love to occur. But I do believe that a Christian faith built on the knowledge of being unconditionally loved by God, that we are all messed in some way, that we can be forgiven and healed and live a purposeful and significant life, can be a truth that helps to heal and provide the comfort in despair that  makes a difference. I personally have had times when my anxiety was crippling and prayer, with no words, just my spirit groaning, was all that brought relief. But depression is not a sign of a person's spiritual failings or lack of faith. We live in a broken world with broken people who hurt each other. And all of us suffer in some way for that. For other people Buddhism, and other spiritual practises create meaning and peace in a way that can make a significant impact on their mental well being. We are all spiritual and it is an aspect of our existence which is often the part most in pain and most seeking of hope and significance.

Probably a mixture of all of the above will work or help most people. I have done the therapy, some cbt, some mindfulness. I am definitely not an "active relaxer" like John Kirwan but it is really good for me to get engrossed in an activity such as gardening or scrapbooking( I feel no shame). Exercise and diet definitely make a difference too. But my perfectionist tendencies mean I have to be very careful about how to approach it. I am also not one for 'out there' goals. Worship in church and the singing that is part of it really can help me. But sometimes it seems that God has hit the mute button and all I have is doubt and confusion.

This time around I am not going to use therapy - as I read recently on the Live More Awesome facebook page "shit in a food processor still comes out as shit". For me I think I need to let go of all the stuff I could use to explain my depression. I just don't want to be depressed anymore. I have talked a lot. Now I just want to get on with life.
Meds will continue to be part of my life and actually I really need this to work so that I can do anything else that could help.
Healthy living is definitely a priority - sleep being the major one and some regular exercise. I reserve the right to eat junk cause at 3pm in the afternoon with two preschoolers it can be the life raft.
I think I want to focus more on how my faith could counteract some of the intrusive and negative thinking that plagues me. Maybe I will find someone who I can talk to who has expertise in that.

If you get a chance to listen you should check out the interview with Mike King on Radio NZ. He runs the Nutters Club on ZB which encourages people to phone in a talk about their struggles with mental illness. He is making it not taboo and speaking to groups about how we can all support those with mental illness. He is honest about his own journey and I found what he said really refreshing.

The thing I guess that I wish people realised is that depression is deadly. It kills so many people each year in NZ. It makes people feel there is no hope, no escape and that taking your own life is a reasonable choice to make. A lot of people express anger if someone chooses to end their life. Their actions appear selfish and self indulgent, leaving so much pain and grief, questions and guilt. But if you can just imagine how awful someone would have to feel to make that choice, then hopefully you can remember that when someone says they are stuggling with depression. Because no matter how much they tell you about how hard life is for them, they will never tell you how truly torturous it is.

So tomorrow I will have my appointment with the adult mental health team. I will become an official mental health "consumer" again. And I really hope that somehow, someone whose mind is working well for them, can help me through this time. I am fresh out of brilliant ideas.