The Face I Can't Forget

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Understanding the Misunderstood

For those of you who have been regular readers of my blog, you will be aware that I have spoken around the country regarding mental illness and how those struggling with it are treated. 

For those of you who are new here, go and read my first post. The summation of which is I use to be very mentally unwell. Now I am not.

Well, in all fairness my life has been a little more complicated than that. But the reality is that I once was a patient in psych wards and now I am a well functioning, healthy member of society.

As Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang Theory puts it "I am not crazy, my mother had me tested!"

Because of my history with mental illness I am a little bit worried any time I have a really down day ("Am I getting depressed?") or when I realise that one of my memories might not be 'real'.

That's right, you read that correctly. 

Sometimes my mind likes to play tricks on me. Or at least it use to. When this use to happen it would invent scenarios and people and places in a way that was basically as real to me as reality.

What this means is I have memories of things that never happened but, and this is key, affect me the same way and amount that my 'real' memories do.

Along with this little Matrix-esque mind bender for you, the medication I use to have to take by the bucket load means that my understanding of events in my past can be a little skewed. So events that I thought happened right after the other might be years apart, or happened the other way round. There are also huge chunks of my memory that are just not there. I read through my journals now (which I have kept since I was twelve) and don't recognise events or people that I apparently was hugely impacted by.

What this means for me is that my life history can be a huge tangle of crap covered, arsenic laced, memory string. I find a loose end, give it a tug, and the whole thing can unravel pretty quickly (I regularly thank God that I had the foresight to keep a journal. It has really helped me piece things together).

What this means for people close to me is that this process of discovering the truth of things that happened can be a very painful process. I can remember horrible things done to me that people claim never happened. How can I prove that it did if the other people involved say it didn't happen? Are they telling the truth or covering the ass? 

It also means that those more horrible memories that have had a hugely traumatic impact on my life may not actually be true. And that is a very hard pill to swallow. Some of these memories have shaped my reactions to and relationships with people. Some of these memories have taken me to counsellors and psychologists. Some of them have shaped who I am, for better or worse.

And yet they may have never happened.

Despite what this means for me, for the people I love who are impacted by these memories, it can mean the destruction of our relationship. They (understandably) don't want to trawl through dark memories that they do not view as relevant. Whereas I NEED to trawl through them to determine what is relevant.

Some people refuse to walk this road with me, and I really can't blame them.

What I really want to educate people about, especially those who know and/or care for people with mental illness, is that the things that happen in our minds are as important/impacting to our lives as anything that happens outside of our head; perhaps even more so in some respects. These things can't be refuted or proven, but they shape the way we live, think, love, and fear. And this doesn't stop if the illness goes away.

Take for an example someone who was abused as a kid. This memory will shape them throughout their lives. Perhaps they will overcome and be a survivor who takes control of their lives. Or perhaps they will spiral into the role of the victim and live a life of pain and destruction. Either way, the event shaped them.

Now, imagine that the event of sexual abuse had been hallucinated. Does this make it any less real to the person? If it is a vivid hallucination, there is often no way to tell between the image and reality. They look the same, and feel the same. And they have the same affect on their life.

But mental health patients don't often receive counselling or ongoing support for things that others believe they hallucinated. This means that these significant events in a persons life may never get addressed. They will not receive specialized help for this issue. Basically, a person who has been impacted by child abuse (even though imagined) will remain untreated for this.

I know this is hard to comprehend. It is hard to explain. It is hard to make people understand how real these hallucinations can be, or how devastating medication can be on the memory of a person.

But what needs to be known by people who may (God willing) never experience this mental mind-screw, is that these memories need to be acknowledged and addressed. People with mental health issues need to be talked to, listened to, and really heard. If they are taken seriously as people who have pain that needs to be acknowledged then maybe we will all be one step closer to not ostracizing and ignoring the weakest of our society.

So get out there and start listening people!

Cancer F**king Sucks

My mother-in-law has cancer.

It sucks.

I could leave my post at that and people would nod and agree and know that little else needs to be said. But I have always been a verbose kind of person so I have a lot more to say.

It f**king sucks.

If you haven't met my mama then you are missing out. She is an amazing lady. She is funny and sweet. She can be silly. She has the biggest heart for people. She is intelligent and happy and fun loving and wise and kind and everything.

But even if she was the most horrible person ever, what she is going through would still suck.

This last year we have stood with her as she has faced chemo treatment, lost her hair, laughed and cried, went through radiation, and finally finished treatment. Yesterday she went for her checkup and has been told to come back today with a support person. They have also already booked her in with a surgeon. It isn't looking good but we don't know how bad it is yet.

The number one sucky thing about cancer - the almost never ending waiting in limbo for results, for treatment, for more results.

Understandably, we are all shaken by this development. I can't even fathom how she must be feeling, but I know that I feel like my heart is cracking and my stomach is knots. I watch my husband closely, knowing that he is hurting, but knowing we don't know how much to hurt yet. I want to be there for him when it really hits home, but I have no idea what I will do when it does. I want to hug them all and by sheer force of will keep them all from falling apart, but I know I can't.

Sucky thing number two - the feeling of complete helplessness in the face of the invisible enemy.

Luke and I have decided that we need to be near the family during all of this. Every one is emotionally exhausted after the last year of treatment, and we know they will need us if we have to face more of the same. So I have told my work that I will be handing in my notice soon. We are looking at houses to rent. I am applying for jobs in another city. Our entire lives are about to change. I want to do it, I know we need to do it, but I am scared. Not about the move, but about how I am going to have the emotional energy to support my husband and family and also be able to look for new work and housing. And I feel selfish for worrying about my ability to cope, because this isn't about me.

Sucky thing number three - the not knowing what will happen and therefore not being able to plan well for the future.

I am scared for my family and how we will all cope with bad news. I am scared for her and how everyone will keep going. And I am angry that this is happening. And sad. And confused. And worried. Grrrrrrr......I hate this!

Sucky thing number four - watching the people you love suffer.

Today I am taking one step at a time. I am hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. I have written check lists for things that need to be done to make sure I don't forget anything in the days ahead. I am trying to remember to breathe and rest in Jesus.

And I am praying. Praying so hard.

Mama, I love you. You have brought me so much joy and love and I hate that you are going through this. Hopefully our move will make it that much easier for you. As a family we will face this. With Jesus we have hope no matter what the outcome. I wish I could make this better for you, and knowing I can't is hard.

We are on our way Mama. We will be there as soon as we can.

Dear Jesus, please make me skinny!

Hysterical breakdowns are not an unknown phenomenon in our household. I live with four boys and at least once a month one of us five has a meltdown.

10 points for guessing who it is.

That's right, it's Luke.

Jokes, it's totally the one with the ovaries.

Despite the fact that I totally hate fulfilling a stereotype, I can't help it! The emotions, and tears, and snot, and sobbing just won't stay down, no matter how hard I try and suppress them. It's sooo embarrassing (especially if it ever happens at work....holla at me emotional ladies!) but it happens and I can't stop it. 

This month, despite trying desperately to channel the stoneheartedness of my testosterone fueled flatmates, I ended up crying like a wee baby about (yet again) my weight issues.

I have come to learn that I don't like being fat (shocker!). Like, I really really really don't like it. I don't like the stares I get in the street ( no jokes, I saw a guy driving do a HUGE double take once and, unless I am the sexiest thing going, the only conclusion I can come to is that he had in fact never seen a fat person before). I don't like people at work giving me tips on how to lose weight. I don't like having to avoid foods I like. I don't like not being able to fit some clothes.

So I decided to quit. 

I told Luke that I was over it and I was gonna eat what I want and get fat and die happy. And he found this hilarious. Apparently it was not the right day for him to laugh at that because I got rather pissed off and then cried lots.

See, as much as I want to be skinny, I sabotage myself all the time. In my concious mind I am working hard at losing weight. In my subconcious mind I am a scared little girl who is trying to protect herself from the world by creating a fat suit. 

As much as I want to be skinny, I more afraid of it than anything. 

I am afraid that when I get there I still won't be happy with what I have. I am afraid that I will get hurt by men again. I am afraid that I won't be able to maintain it. I am scared that I still won't be good enough.

Which is the fundamental problem.

It is not about the weight. Yes, I do need to loose it in order to be healthy. But focusing on the weight has meant that I have forgotten about the reasons I got fat in the first place. 

I have started idolising being skinny. I started to think that when I use to be skinny I was happy and will be again if I could just get skinny again. The truth is that it is bollocks. If I am not happy in myself now then I won't be when I lose weight. And I wasn't happy when I was skinny...which is why I ended up fat.

So I am trying to change my mindset from focusing on losing weight to one that is focused on being healthy and happy. This still means I have to avoid foods that aren't good for me, and I still have to exercise and all that, because that is part of being healthy in body and mind, but the outlook is totally different.

Still, as I write this, I am overcome by a sense of desperation and yet resignation. I am really struggling to understand how to keep going in the face of weight that is getting harder and harder to shift. The thought of this being a lifelong struggle fills me full of helplessness. 

I hate that I have done this to myself. I hate that I now have to battle everyday of my life in order to live well. It makes me angry and dejected. I say I don't care anymore but the fact is I really really do. It hurts a lot knowing that this is my fault.

I feel like I have tried every diet in the book and still have so far to go. Luke described it as running a marathon, where you get half way through and wanna die on the spot but you keep going coz there is no other way to finish. There is also a billboard on the way to my work that says "The pain of doing it is not as bad as the pain of regretting not doing it." Funnily enough it is a billboard for a gym!

It is hard trying to put into words what it is like staring your own regret in the mirror every morning to people who may have never had weight issues. It is hard to explain how it isn't a just physical battle, it is a mental and emotional one as well. It is hard to tell people who say "just count calories in and calories out and you should loose weight" that it isn't that simple. 

I find blogging helpful. I hope it reaches people who. like me, want to lose weight and yet want to give up at the same time. I hope this reaches those who are so confused as to what they really want that they sabotage themselves and then hate themselves for it. I hope this reaches people who are losing hope.

Because at the end of the day, underneath all the pain and heartache, I do have hope. I have hope that it isn't always going to be like this. My faith in Christ tells me that one day every tear will wiped away and all pain will end. I believe that my pain about weight counts. And so I have hope.

For those of a different faith, or of no faith, please don't give up just yet. Please comment below and let me know so I can support you and in turn feel supported. Your battle with weight is no small thing and I understand the pain that it causes you and how little you feel understood.

We are not alone. even though our fat suits attempt to lie to us and tell us we are.

Just keep breathing, keep living, keep listening to the people who love you, and let's find a way to live a life that we dream of!

Which is more important....forgiveness or healing?

On my way to work in the mornings I tend to arrive at the train station about 10mins early so I can sit in my car and read my bible and pray a bit (I know, I am so holy and I put you all to shame). I do this so I start my day the right way, focused on God and not on how tired, grumpy, wanting to be in bed I feel.

Sometimes I just go through the motions. I don't really take in what I am reading and/or I don't really care (maybe not that holy after all). But sometimes what I have read really gets me thinking.

Like yesterday for example.

I was reading Mark 2:1-13. For those who don't know their bibles off by heart (shame on you.....you are going stright to hell, do not pass go, do not collect $200...jokes) this bit tells the story of a paralytic man. Jesus is chilling in a house, maybe eating some dinner or something, when the people of the town hear he is there. Like the celebrating swarming of the 1st Century, they all flock to see him, filling the house and the road outside and basically acting like people do around the Kardashians today, but for much better reasons (hopefully). 

In this town there is a paralytic man who is hanging out with his mates, who start to think to themselves that maybe they should get him to see Jesus and maybe something like a healing would happen (because by now stories of Jesus' healings have spread). So they pick up this guy on his mattress and start carrying to the place where Jesus is.

When they get there the doorway is full of people who are not gonna give up their precious opportunity to see and hear Jesus. Perplexed, these fellas start brainstorming and decide to climb up on the roof (which is flat in this part of the world, and usually has stairway access), and dig a hole through the roof (really hope the owner was pissed off that this) and then lowered the man, mattress and all, down to right smack bag in front of the great man himself.

Now I can imagine Jesus looking at the man on the mat, then looking up at the hole in the ceiling and breaking into a huge smile. He is really impressed with the faith and commitment they have all shown. So he looks at the man and says "your sins are forgiven." Some religious elders and stuff and kinda annoyed by this because in their reckoning only God has the authority to forgive sins and Jesus is a man. So Jesus (apparently reading their minds!!!) looks at them and says "which is easier, to forgive sins or to tell this man to get up, pick up his mat and walk. But so you know that the Son of Man [a title Jesus uses for himself] has the authority to forgive sins..." he looks at the paralytic man "stand up, pick up your mat and walk home." And the dude, who is paralysed remember, gets up, picks up his mat and walks out.

Now there are many amazing things about this story. I mean, the paralysed guy would have had muscles that were all shrunken and munted and yet he could get up and walk straight away! The full body healing that occurred here is mind blowing in medical terms. It is not just the cause of his paralysis that is healed, but all of the issues associated with that. All instantaneously!! Flippin wow!

But what struck me yesterday was not the healing. It was that the healing was almost an afterthought in the story. 

Jesus didn't heal the guy immediately. He forgave him first. And then he implies that it is harder to forgive sins than to heal this man.

The healing is not of the first importance to him!!

This made me think about the priorities I would have placed on this story. If I had been Jesus I would have healed the guy first then said something like "BOOM! Look at what I can do! Now believe all you peeps, because I am badass and,as a bonus, I will forgive his sins too!"

In churches I see the same thing. We pray often for people's healing, but how often is there salvation or relationship to God seen as more important than their physical ills. It is the mentality that says "show me a miracle first and then I will believe and ask to be saved."

And yet that is directly opposite to what Jesus does here. His main focus is on the spiritual ill of the man. He sees that the healing that had to occur between this man and God was more deadly, more disastrous than the physical disabilities he had. This reconciliation of man and God was the priority.

How would this attitude impact how we speak to people with disabilities and illnesses? If we adopted this attitude what would change in our hearts towards others? Would we stop seeing people with disabilities as something to be pitied but rather view the state of their faith as more important? Would their disability pale in comparison to their knowledge of God? Would we approach them differently? Would we approach our own issues differently?

I for one am someone who empathizes greatly with people who suffer from disabilities; I have been one and, but for the grace of God, would still be one. I remember feeling like if people prayed for my healing and it didn't happen, that I or they had failed in their faith. I stopped asking for prayer because I felt ashamed.

It was in the prayers of some ladies who prayed for God to be made known to me, not to be healed, that I was healed. They prayed for my salvation, and God, like in this story, forgave me first and healed me second. And the first was more important for me than the second. My shame and fear was lifted. Even if I had remained in my illness I believe that my experience with God in that moment would have changed my life anyway, even if not others perception of my life.

So when you pray for healing for others (and I am not saying not to) remember that of greater importance to God is that this suffering person would know the love and forgiveness of Christ. It is then that true, deep healing is found, that the broken is made whole, and the world is reconciled to its Creator.

Christianity in the Workplace

After years of study I have finally completed my Masters degree and am back in the real world working.

Though I loved my study, I really do enjoy the challenge of working each day (though getting up early every morning sucks). I am someone who thrives on a challenge, on deadlines, and on getting paid! I am made for work it seems. I get a kick out of being depended on to get stuff done in time and I am very good at leaving work at work so I can spend time happily at home.

Being back in the work place has raised some interesting issues that I have not had to face in years. Studying theology meant that the majority of the people I saw everyday shared the same beliefs as me, if not the same doctrines, and I was reasonably certain that I could talk about my faith openly and honestly with any of them.

Being in the workplace doesn't offer such opportunities. I am NOT an evangelist. Going up to people and talking to them about Jesus is not one of my giftings. I am able to talk to them about their lives, their issues, their families, but when it comes to faith I get very uncomfortable. I am never sure what to say without offending people. I feel like I am being bigoted if I voice my feelings. I am not sure how to say that I don't agree with someone without coming across as a b***h. 

I think my main issue is that I am a straight talker. I tend to tell it like it is. If I don't agree with you then I will say so. This doesn't lend itself well to situations where people of other faiths may take offense. Though it has its place, straight talk is not always welcome. 

And so I find myself feeling embarrassed and awkward. Not because of my faith but because of my inability to vocalize it well to non-believers. Gimme a room full of Christians wanting to learn more about the Bible and I am away! But fill that same room with non-Christians and I break out in a cold sweat.

This leaves me in an interesting predicament. How do I as a Christian speak well about my faith in the workplace? 

I have already meet a man from the Christadelphian sect/cult. He told me that Jesus is merely a man whom God has honoured above all others, but he is not God. Immediately I was thinking of all the correct theological answers to this statement. But the reality is that this man was raised in this faith and may not appreciate being told he is wrong. Not doubt he is already aware of what other Christians think about Jesus and is use to being told he is wrong. In this situation being silent was much more helpful than being....well....me.

So how does one be a Christian in a workplace filled with different faiths? Does my theological training simply go on the back burner to be used at home and at church only?

To put it simply, no. I did not study theology as a job but as something that impacts my whole life. It is part of my faith and as such impacts my entire life.

Instead of theology being put aside, what I need to do is put my outspokenness aside. 

All Christians, not just me, need to learn when to speak and when to stay silent. We need wisdom to read a situation and know what would best serve the person we are talking to. Love is about catering to them, not about our own need to be proven right.

We also need to remember that it is our lives that speak for us. St. Francis of Assisi once said that Christians need to "preach the kingdom of God constantly, when necessary use words." What he meant was that in our actions, our love for others, our attitude towards our bosses, our ethic toward our work, the way we treat our team mates, it is in those things that our faith is made apparent to others. This isn't always easy. There are days when we don't feel very loving (6:30am everyday for me!) and it may not come through that we are any different from others. But with God's grace, and with the Spirit to strengthen us, we can endure all things.

So what does it mean to speak about my faith at work?

It means to sometimes just stop speaking.

My time in 'Merica: The land of the Free

It has been a couple of weeks since I got back from America. I went to a place called Sequim, which is about two hours outside of Seattle. It is on the east coast and you can see Canada across the water.

In short, it is a beautiful area that reminds me a lot of New Zealand. It is very green and clean, has a beautiful mountain range that surrounds the harbour at Port Angeles.

 The deer there wander freely around the highways, carparks, and back gardens. I spotted this little guy when we went up into the mountains one day.

Apart from the amazing views and stunning scenery, I was mainly there for my friend Lauren's wedding. Lauren and I met when she spent a year over in NZ and I have missed not having my bff in the same country. When I heard she was getting married I was determined to get to the US of A to be there. Her asking me to be a bridesmaid just sealed the deal.

I spent three weeks catching up with my gurl, eating amazing food, running around doing wedding stuff, and meeting great people. There is so much to say about my trip that I am not really sure where to start. Nothing I say will adequately sum up what I experienced. So instead I have decided to list some of the main things that really hit home about America.

America: Thoughts, feelings, and memories

  1. There is so much stuff!!

One thing that I could not get over, in fact can still not get over, is the amount of stuff that America has. It is not only the variety of different things that you can get, but also the variety within each individual genre of things. Take cereal for example. The Americans know how to do cereal. The sheer number of different types of cereal that you can buy just staggers my mind. Then there is the fact that there is never just one packet of a particular cereal, but 20 or 30 packets, just in case they may run out. There is so much stuff!!! I can't even begin to tell you how much stuff there is. You can buy anything you want. Want half popped popcorn because you like to chew the hard bits? Don't just buy ordinary popcorn and dig to the bottom, buy a whole packet perfectly half popped for you. Want Cappuccino flavoured chips? Why the frick not?

So yeah...stuff...lots...you get the drift.

2. I should be an American

It surprised me how well I fit in to American society! My loudness, openness, and general craziness seems to be more American than it ever has been Kiwi. I have always found it fairly difficult to make girlfriends, I always seemed to be on a different page to many of them. Not so in America! I meet so many amazing women and bonded with them. We had so many laughs and good times. They are amazing women and I am so glad I got to meet them. It was so hard saying goodbye even though I had only known them for 3 weeks. Love you ladies!

3. I could be persuaded to move there

Despite the assumption that all Americans are bigots and all have guns (sorry, but we do think it!), the truth of Washington state is very different. Very few people I met had guns, many had never experienced violence of any sort, and the state itself is very liberal. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that I would actually be pretty happy living there. I had always been a little bit nervous about the idea of going to America as I always assumed pretty bad things about it. But I am happy to report that TV lives up to its reputation of being complete crap, and most of the stuff on it is not true (at least not where I was). I loved the area I was in and really want to take my husband there to meet everyone. 

This is a fairly short post because, really, I have no idea how to put everything into words. I loved my time there, spent most of it in awe of everything and feeling like a small country cousin visiting the big city. It is nice to be home, but life is now a lot bigger having seen more that is out there.

Now, all my American friends, you must come over here!!!