Actions Speak Louder than Words

7 05 2012

My beloved teaching our son how to ride a motorbike.

Sometimes words just don’t seem to say enough.  I can’t express enough to my husband how much I love him – I can only show him.  I can tell him “I love you” but the words seem hollow when they are said.  It doesn’t truly express the deep and profound affection that I feel for my beloved.

This week has been a tough one.  Words have failed me on a couple of occasions, especially on Thursday when we farewelled young Sarah.  My thoughts have drifted to what I could say to the mother, to console her, but in all honesty, nothing I say will suffice.  It would sound corny and contrite, and that isn’t what I want, so I have decided to let my actions speak.  I plan on doing some baking and making some casseroles and deliver them to her so that she has plenty of food to keep her and her family going for the next few days.  Hopefully this will express to her my deepest feelings, and let her know that she is surrounded by love and comfort.

After the service I had quite a big cry, I had to, I had to let it go, and this was the only chance I would get.  I cried hard for the little girl who didn’t get to live her life, for her parents who would have a gaping wound in their hearts, for her brothers, her friends and extended family, and the community at large.

And that is what has impressed me the most through this week.  The way the community has got beside and behind the family and shown them their support and encouragement, love and peace.  And I am privileged to live in such a community that isn’t afraid to come together in times of trials and support each other.

So this week, here is my challenge to you.  Don’t say something contrite or off hand.  Do it.  Carry out the action – make a batch of scones, go and have a coffee with someone, go and visit a friend you haven’t seen in a while, take a bunch of handpicked flowers to your mother, have a round of golf with your father.  Just do something instead of saying it.  Words can be empty, actions are not.


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Support from Unexpected Quarters.

23 04 2012

Kawatiri - other side of the tunnel

Depression has been something plaguing my life for the best part of six months officially (unofficially it would probably be about three or four years – more if you ask my husband).  And while some of my posts haven’t made a lot of sense, I am finding myself at the other side, looking back into the dark pit that was my Summer.

And I got support from a lot of people.  My bestie Rachael, my Mum, my husband, (once he accepted I wasn’t mentally insane), my stepdad (also a fellow sufferer).

What surprised me the most though, was the fellow bloggers who have made such positive and encouraging comments on my posts.  Some didn’t understand, but I never asked them to.  I appreciated the encouragement, and the smiles that I got because someone cared enough to tell me they thought I was a good person, or was making progress.

Special mention here should go to J C Hart, James Garcia and Kerryn Angell.  I also have to mention LaVerne Clark and Cherie Le Clare, both of whom contacted me via email or phone, just to check I was doing OK.

If you meet someone, or have a friend who is shutting themselves away from you, make that phone call, ring them, tell them you are thinking of them and ask if they want to go out for a coffee.  If they don’t, just chat to them about anything, books, food, anything.  Just let them know that you are thinking of them.  Because that really does help.

And I am so grateful to those wonderful people who made the effort to comment, ring, or email me to say hello.  They really have made my healing a lot easier.


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The Gate

9 02 2012

When I was a little girl, my Mum always told me that if there was a challenge, I faced it

Gate by ShutterStock

head on.  For example the gate.

We lived on a hill section facing out over port Nelson.  It had a steep driveway and there were awesome neighbours either side, Jean and Frank lived in Number 4, and  old Mr Sherman lived at number 8.  The Burkes lived at the end of the cul de sac at Number 10 (although they were often away and had people house sitting, including Seato an Irish Red Setter who became my best friend one summer!).

Our property had a steep footpath from the driveway down to the house, and it was fenced with a latched gate at the top.  But that didn’t stop a determined 2 year old.  If there was a gate, it was a challenge, and I had to find a way over it, under it, through it or around it, just so I could visit the neighbours.

Its funny what you remember when you are sitting in Counselling talking about challenges, because lately, if there was a (metaphorical) gate in my way.  I just sat down and waited for someone else to open it, because I didn’t have the tools to do that.

What happened to that determined little girl?  She got lost in the scheme of life.  Stress, pressures and other contributing factors complicated a life that didn’t need to be complicated and I lost the ability to accept and face my challenges.  I forgot how to act and how to think logically about how to get over the obstacle in my way.  I forgot how to be determined.  I either sat there and waited for the gate to magically open on its own, or asked someone else to open it for me.

I learnt something today.  That I still have the determination to get over the fence, no matter what the obstacle might be.  And I still have the ability to problem-solve the obstacle (under, over, around or through???)  None of that changed because I became depressed, it was just lost in the confusion that was my mind.  I am still capable of opening the gate myself and stepping through (or climbing over it, or through it, or (though nearly impossible as an adult) under it).

A challenge in life now is something I can look at and say, Oh goodie, a gate to get through.  It gives me an opportunity to do something that I haven’t done in a while and make the most of the opportunity.  The upside of climbing the gate was visiting the neighbours (and freaking my mum out!).  Now, climbing the obstacle and getting to the other side is an accomplishment that I can be proud of (and Mum doesn’t freak out now!)

Now I know that this post sounds very weird and out there, but it makes sense to me, and I guess that is all  that really matters.  And the fact that I have rediscovered another ability that I had long since given up – going out and visiting old friends!

So if you have a challenge out there, that you are struggling to get over, take heart.  You have probably done it once before, you can do it again.

 


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A Mixed Bag Week

23 01 2012

Bangs Head on Desk by Tolan88 @ deviantart

This week has had highs and lows, good things and bag things and everything in between.

My depression is lifting once more, but it is a slow process.  I heard it recently put like this:  You don’t feel happy, you don’t feel sad.  You don’t feel anything.  And that is correct.  For me, I can laugh, but not feel the joy with it.  I can feel sad, but not necessarily cry bitterly.  I feel very indifferent, which can be scary.  I am not a down person by nature.  I am generally upbeat and happy, so feeling blah really does scare me.

Anyway – on the writing front, I have edited up to Chapter 4 of Medusa once I printed it out.  A much better option, but then my son was off at Nannas for a week, and I was able to get a bit of stuff done.  I did manage to get Chapter two in the laptop, but I need to make a conscious effort to get the rest done.

Good news, another story idea came out of the blue – well actually probably more the black, because it was a dream.  I only have the start of the story, but already I have some more added to it.  It is currently dwelling in a notebook, with jottings, and will eventually have a notebook of its own, once I can work out where the story is going.  At this stage, I am figuring on fey folk, but that could change.

I have been struggling with Son of God lately, but the last two days have seen a little bit of work and thought go into that, so I hope to translate those onto the pages and start getting the story started again.

My head is a jumble of thoughts, and I can’t seem to slow it down to make sense of any of it.  Just keeping myself busy with gardening or housework is enough to quieten it down, but night times are the worst.  They thoughts fly unbidden, and I know I am tense with them, but I can’t seem to relax, no matter what I do.  Reading has been my only solace at the moment, reading until my eyes hurt, then turn out the light and hope for sleep.

I so hate this darkness.


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The Year in Review

28 12 2011

Light at the End of the Tunnel, Kawatiri Tunnel, Feb 2011

This is the time of year where everyone starts to reflect on the year that has been, and starts planning their New Years Resolutions.  I want to look back over the year for another reason, because there has been a lot of turmoil this year for me.

At the beginning of the year, I set the goal of writing three novels and I was well on the way to achieving that.  I had 57,000 on Blood Gold by August, 55,000 on my Ice Planet story, and I planned on doing on in November (for NANO) but instead, my life took a rather drastic turn.

I was diagnosed with depression in February 2011 and working with my Doctor, we tried natural remedies to try and make myself better.  Why I was diagnosed, I don’t know, but for years I spent a lot of time trying to make it right for everyone else, and finally nothing was right for me.  The natural methods worked for a while, but when June hit, I started to feel myself going downhill.  By July I had hit rock bottom and couldn’t make sense of what was going on around me.  I found a lot of the time, I was in tears over the silliest things, things that I would once have coped with.

Everest on my now deceased laptop

Burgess Gang

In September, my beloved laptop crashed, catastrophically, and due to a misguided faith in the life of my laptop, I hadn’t backed up anything for some time.  Hence, I lost pretty much all of Blood Gold and 30k from Ice Planet.  It was gutting.  So much so, that I think this triggered the deepest darkest place.

My writing was important to me.  It was my escape from the real world, it was my opportunity to control a small portion of the chaos that was my life.  By setting myself deadlines and goals, I was able to control how I achieved something.  But instead I found myself without my greatest joy and outlet, and I went back to the Doctors for antidepressants.

The first two weeks were horrific as my body and mind adjusted to the fake feel good chemicals that my body needed.  It must have been so depleted because it was hell for two weeks, but once I turned the corner, I felt much better.

Writing suddenly didn’t seem important.  Nothing was important.  My brain, which was my greatest source of my imagination, deserted me, my dreams left me, I had blank nights, or evenings when I couldn’t even sleep.  My Mum came and stayed with me for two weeks, while I adjusted to my new life.  My son, God bless him, now doesn’t like leaving me, in case I change again.  It has been rough on him.  My husband has also suffered through the harrowing times, but we are all a safe strong unit once again.

Writing has come back in fits and spurts, I have days when I write, but I often go for weeks without writing, and it doesn’t bother me right now.  I am still getting over the effects of the antidepressants.  My mind wanders freely of its own accord (I zone out!), my memory is like a sieve, I only remember what I want to remember (like my counselling sessions) and forget things that don’t seem important (like BGAC meetings!)

Counselling has been a Godsend, I love my counsellor, she is a loving, generous and caring person.  I love that she listens to me, acknowledges me, and tells me that what I am doing and feeling are normal, even if they aren’t!  Because they are normal for me.

One thing I have learnt from counselling is that life is all about choices.  You make

Winter Sunrise

choices that affect your life.  Others make choices and that affects their lives.  You have choices to make about how you react to other peoples choices.

At the moment, I am working on my own choices.  I make my own decisions and I live with the consequences, whether they are positive or negative.  It might sound really simple, but I have had to strip back years of intense anger, hatred and despair to finally come to this point.  To go back over all of the choices I have made in my life and accept the results, good and bad, as part of my life.

I have also accepted that people will make choices that I don’t like.  It doesn’t mean I have to like them or hate them.  That is the decision they have made.

As a result I have noticed an improvement in my relationship with my husband.  Initially I thought he was changing due to the changes in me, but now I realise that he hasn’t changed… I have.   I am more accepting of myself now, knowing that my history has made me who I am, and I can’t go back and change things, I have to see those events as life changing and learn from the mistakes, and move on.

So, this is my year in review.  It has been bad, but it has also been good.  I have grown up. I now accept myself for who I am and what I have to offer, and I have plenty to offer! I have a beautiful and supportive family, who ring me to see how I am.  I have friends who have surrounded me with love and support, and I will be grateful for them.

I will write again, because God gave me a talent, and he won’t take it away from me now.  He is just preparing me for the next phase of my life.  Good things can only happen from now on in!

Steampunga


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The Bung Brigade

19 12 2011

Bangs Head on Desk by Tolan88 @ deviantart

Karma has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it.  Either that, or God has a strange sense of humour!  It is definitely a “Head – Desk” kind of week!

On Friday, my beloved and I had an argument, and I went to stay at my Mum’s for the weekend with my son.  It was a lovely relaxing weekend, and I got lots of sleep.  Which is probably what I needed more than anything.

On Monday I returned home early in the morning, late enough to miss my beloved and his two sons.  I got youngest son off to school and spent the rainy day comtemplating my navel.  At 12:48pm – weird, I remember the time exactly, I thought I was well overdue for something to eat, so I stood up and made my way into the kitchen.  My left foot stood on something which was sharp and painful.  I took a couple of steps and realised that something wasn’t right.  I couldn’t see anything, but when I looked back at the floor where I had been, I saw half a needle on the ground.

How I didn’t faint, I don’t know.  All I know is that my foot was sore, the area around my little toe looked puckered and I suspected I had the other half of the needle in my foot.  Great.

I rang my BFF – who wasn’t home.  I rang my Mum, who wasn’t home, and I rang my beloved, who wasn’t answering his cellphone.  GREAT!  I was in pain, and no one I could get hold of, so I tried again.  BFF, Mum and Beloved, nope.  So I rang the doctor.  And I got the receptionist from hell.  Well she isn’t really, but often when you ring, it is like the biggest inconvenience in the entire universe.  But today, because I was in tears, she was the most helpful person around.  She reassured me, told me there was an opening at 2pm, and that the local clinic would probably send me over the hill anyway.

I had a plan.  Doc’s at 2pm.  Rang the school to get youngest son ready by 1:30pm and I would be off.  I rang and left a message on Mum’s and beloved’s cellphone, then tried beloved’s work.  Still no answer.  OK.  But beloved rang me back, voice as cold as ice.  “What.”

“Needle broken off in foot, at Doc’s at 2, picking up youngest son.  Can you get him from there.”

“OK.”

I duly drove our manual car over the hill, how, I really don’t know, adrenalin I guess.  My beloved arrived not long after me.  One look at my foot, and we were talking again.  Funny how catastrophe’s can bring one back together!

A quick look by the Doc, an Ultrasound, where the operator tried desperately to remove the needle himself with the handpiece, much to youngest son’s disgust, I was back at the Doc’s at 5pm, for a little bit of surgery.  It took him 1/2 hr to locate the needle piece, and extract it.  It now sits in an specimen jar on my desk, a gruesome reminder that one should always put away needles and wear shoes inside (Puh Lease… Come on, it was a warm day, nice day to kick off shoes and relax!).  By 6pm, I was sick of needles (one in the foot, one to anaethitise the foot, one to stitch the foot, one with tetanus booster), and ready for a good nights sleep.

But this isn’t the end of my tale – on my beloved’s insistence (because he was going away), my Mum came up to stay with me, and she decided to clean my bathroom for me, which was nice, because I had planned on doing it, but having a crutch to help me get around isn’t easy to climb up on things.

Mum got carried away and cleaned the walls and ceiling and finally the bath, putting the little non slip dolphins back in the bottom.  Beloved came home from work and decided to have a shower. 

I heard him.  He slipped in the shower and “tweaked” his back.  Great, two of us down now.  Mum was very apologetic, but as my beloved said, it was just one of those things.

On Friday, the sun was once more shining, and I decided to thank Mum by taking her up to my favourite cafe for a coffee and cake.  Youngest son had finished school, so he came along too.  Two fluffies later, he wanted to see the eel in the lake, so we wondered down to have a look.

A little cabin caught our eye, so we ventured up to have a look, it was like a caravan painted in cow print (big black splotches on a white background).  Mum put one foot on the deck, and in slow motion twisted around, her foot went out from under her and she landed on her shoulder.

We had to call an ambulance, because I suspected she had a broken collarbone.  4 hours later, it was confirmed. 

“Payback’s a bitch,” my beloved said, “Karma always get you.”

“I don’t believe she deliberately tried to upend you.”

“Stranger things have happened…”

Needless to say, one hobbles (me), one walks funny (beloved)  and one can’t move her elbow above her waist.  Christmas is going to be an exceptionally fun this year!  But at least we are still alive… I think!

Merry Christmas to all of my wonderful readers, I hope your Christmas is much more relaxing and calmer than mine!  Thank you for taking the time to follow my journey.


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Its… Complicated.

5 12 2011

How many times have we heard “its complicated” if someone doesn’t really want to explain something to you.  It annoys me very much.  If it was complicated, why did you bring it up in the first place.

I had this in reverse the other day.  I was visiting with my counsellor and I was telling her all about a situation that happened last weekend.  Then I talked about other issues as well.  At the end of the session, she looked me in the eye and said – “it is just so complicated isn’t it.”

I am kind of pleased that she said that.  I bottle things up.  I don’t tell someone something and then say it is too difficult to go into details because there are too many of them.  I prefer to keep my own counsel and try and tease out the issues later.  But it was nice to know that I wasn’t going insane!  It is actually complicated!  What makes it worse is that most of it isn’t of my own making, but what others have put on me!  Which makes me feel responsible!  Urgh, sick of taking other peoples responsibilities on, and in the last 6 weeks I have noticed a large improvement in my own mental state because I have learnt that unless it is something that I did, or created, it has nothing to do with me.  Even if my family or friends do something, it isn’t mine, unless I did it.

It is a very liberating thought.  It is knowing that I don’t have to accept other peoples problems, or try and help them.  Handy being mentally ill – sorry I can’t help you, I have problems of my own!  My friends say – that’s OK, I understand.  Those who aren’t my friend look at me like I am insane… so I know what category they fall into.  Needless to say they will be off my Christmas card list this year.

Life has been changing, for the positive.  To the point where I have… yes I have, actually written some words!  It doesn’t happen every day, but it has been happening, and I am liking this.  There is less stress and pressure on myself, although I am itching to get back into writing on a more scheduled basis, but I want it to be fun and because I want to write, not because I HAVE to do it.

So, while my life might be “complicated” it is only if I let it be.  And I chose not to.


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Find Time Pt 2

14 11 2011

Well, the weekend is over and I got a little bit of reading in, but I have a full on start to the week, but I can’t let it overwhelm me.  It is very easy to let that happen.  One defence is to take one day at a time, and just go with the flow.  If it turns to custard, so be it.

Today I am reader writer for a NCEA exam at the local school.  Its from 9 – 12, which isn’t too bad.  But when I come home I have to change the sheets on a bed for the babysitter for tomorrow and make tea for my son and babysitter.  Tomorrow is a full on day, and I really don’t want to think about that just yet, but I still have to plan for it.

Tomorrow, I have counselling in the morning, then two claims to look at, then home, my Avon boss is picking me up and we are driving back in town to set up for the Sales Event, which takes place at 7pm until 9pm, but we have to unpack the set up and bring it all home again, so won’t be home until 11pm!  One very long day. 

I had plans for Wednesday too, but I have put them off.  I think I will need some time to myself after such a big day on Tuesday, and counselling normally stirs things up, so I need the time to allow myself some time to process it, cry over it, or laugh about it, whatever the case may be.

So once more, I have to find more time.  Why can’t days have 26 hrs?  An extra two would make all the difference!  Or would it?


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The “Blahs”

7 11 2011

Depression is a curious beast.  One day you feel fine, the next you are wondering

Bangs Head on Desk by Tolan88 @ deviantart

why you bothered getting out of bed.  I tend to find I have a mixture of these in a week, so I can’t honestly say that I am on an even keel.  All I know is that my mood is more up than it was about 8 weeks ago.

As part of my program, I am attending counselling, and I tend to find that depending on what we are talking about also affects my moods for the week.  If it has been fairly intense, I tend to find my mind works overtime for the week to try and process the information.

It is really hard to describe depression to someone who really doesn’t understand.  My Mum has the best description – something isn’t right in the engine room (your head), and because you can’t see it, people don’t realise that there is anything wrong.

When I am having a bad time of it, I withdraw, from my family and friends.  I surround myself with my books, or work in my garden, because I find that writing it a very hard thing to do when your mind is busy trying to process stuff.  Housework is a thing of the past, unless something REALLY needs work.

I call this, the “Blahs”, because you really can’t be bothered.  Something you enjoy doing one week, will seem like a chore the next week.  I enjoyed my trip to the cafe with my laptop last Friday, but this Friday just been, it seemed more like something I had to do.

Structure and timetables are completely out the window.  I have to pick and chose what I do, when I want to do it, because I can’t guarantee that I will want to do it a week later.  I really hate this, I like to help people out – but I don’t know if I will have a good day or not.

I know this all sounds rather negative, but it isn’t.  Today isn’t a blah day.  It is a tired day, one where I wake up after a very restless and dreamful night and felt I haven’t slept a wink!  This also seems to be a side affect of depression, you either sleep soundly, or you don’t.  I fluctuate between the two.

Each day is different and presents its own issues and surprises.  One thing I do know, each day is what I make of it.  I am allowed to have good days, I am allowed to have blah days.  I just hope that the blah’s decrease and the good days increase!


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The Masks I wear

12 09 2011

Light at the End of the Tunnel, Kawatiri Tunnel, Feb 2011

To anybody who knows me, they would probably describe me as friendly, outgoing, happy, smiling and helpful.  They are probably also wondering why they haven’t seen me for a while.  My mum described me as an actress the other day, and she is right.

Lately I have been battling with something that I would rather keep hidden.  A secret that is so soul destroying that you even wonder how it came about.  For the last 18 months I have suffered from a debilitating problem, something that comes and goes but is getting worse every year.

I have recently been diagnosed with mild to moderate depression.  And it has affected my life more this year than it has ever before.  This year, after suffering a cold upon a cold, culminating in a chest infection, and lack of sleep, I finally decided enough was enough and visited with my Doctor and I am now on medication.  This isn’t my first visit to the Doctor.  I first visited with her six months ago, and we decided to go with the exercise and natural method, but because I got sick, I was unable to do the exercise as much as I would have liked, so medication was the only course left to me – short of a mental breakdown, and that was coming.

I am now coping with the side effects of medication that I have been on for 10 days.  Things are getting better, there is light at the end of the tunnel, but the last 9 days have been extremely hard and I am thankful that my Mum has been with me for most of last week, to help me keep going through the day, to give me a break if I need one, and just to be a positive face to see every day.

I have read a lot about depression – it is repressed anger, it is inner hatred, there are lots of different definitions, but for me, depression is a black cloud that hovers around the back of my head.  It has been my friend for eighteen months now, and it is only in the last year that I have really discovered that it IS a problem.  But one I didn’t want to discuss.  Even my beloved wasn’t aware of how bad the problem was.

So how have I managed so long?  Writing.  Yes, weird as it sounds, and I have blogged about this in the past, but writing is my sanity.  If I don’t write, I feel myself going down hill, and very fast.  I need the outlet for my creativity, and if I couldn’t write, I would bead.  Writing is my first choice though.

Friends often wonder why I have such a tight schedule for writing (three novels in a year???) now you know.  I need it to have structure in my day, to have a schedule to follow so that I am able to function throughout the day.

I knew my depression was getting bad, because I didn’t want to write.  Writing is my passion, my soul, and one day, my source of income, but when I didn’t  want to write I knew that something was very wrong.  I haven’t written for 10 days now, but I am not giving myself a hard time about it.  Instead I am taking this time to relax, find new interests and spend time getting to know me again.  I will write again, I have a new story I want to write, a spiritual inspiration that struck me one night when I first started taking the medication, and was awake at some strange hour of the night.

Depression can hit anyone, and it comes in different shapes and forms.  Unfortunately it is genetic for me, but with help and love from my family and friends, I hope to be able to get some stability in my life, to be there for my son and my husband, who are only two of the very special people in my life.

Other special mentions should go to my Mum and Step Dad, two of my biggest supporters and encouragers, and my friends, both writing and non writing ones, because without you in my life, there is no sunshine!

Depression isn’t easy to pick.  In fact a lot of you would never have picked me as suffering from it.  Why would I tell you that my world was falling apart?  I can smile through the pain, I have gotten good at that.  But someone out there maybe suffering.  All you have to do is let your friends know that you love them.  Give them a hug when you meet, talk about things you like doing together, go for walks, go for coffees.  Sometimes just getting out of the house is enough to lift the spirits.

I am still me, I haven’t changed. I just need help to keep going and keep motivated but with time, I will be able to come off the medication, and hopefully fly on my own wings again.


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