A reply

Ah the feedback I was waiting for.  I wasn't fishing for it, but I would be lying if I didn't say I was braced.

Bizarrely my blog has spread beyond my own networks, which is lovely if a little strange.  I've been receiving thoughts every so often from all sorts of people, and I'm very grateful and humbled.  This one I relish because it gives me the opportunity to offer my opinions on a couple of things.  And I love sharing my opinions nearly as much as I love a list.  Here it is, enjoy...;


'I know I don't know you, and I don't want to offend you.  But I read your blog and it made me feel very uncomfortable'

You. Are. Welcome.

'On one hand I applaud your attempts to be honest and encourage people in similar situations.  But I think that this kind of sharing should be done in private not over the internet.  I think that it encourages people to celebrate how hard their life is rather than working to get back to normal.  It's very clearly a way of attention seeking which is indulgent.'  

I think I'll ponder on your use of the term 'normal'.  I do know I plan never to get back to it though.  Sounds dull.  I plan to sail through to 'slightly eccentric with a hint of special'.

'It sounds like you are turning your situation into a badge of honour.  Lots of people do this and prefer to stay miserable rather than turn there life around.  In fact some people choose it.'

You meant 'their'.

'You also wright about how you are a woman of faith.'

write.

'Yet you do not mention prayer as a way , THE way, of getting better.  It is GOD who heals us and can free us from our bondage.'

Sounds racy.

'I think the best thing you should do is find a spiritual director, which you CLEARLY do not have, and petition GOD for his PEACE to flood your heart.  Looking to your OWN strength is what has brought you to your knees, and on your knees you will find healing in God's love.  

PLEASE don't encourage people to look to themselves when as a CHRISTIAN you should always be pointing to God.  I hope you have some Christian friends who can be a support instead of anonymous readers on the internet.

Shouty.

I wish you well for the future.'

I'm not sure about the morality of reproducing this on my blog.  But then, reading about a stranger suffering from depression and deciding to write to them with some criticism feels just as morally dubious.  So... forgive me. I'll deal with any guilt if and when it comes.

Ok.  I wrote a reply, then deleted it and wrote this one;

'Thank you very much for taking the time to write to me, you clearly felt strongly and I applaud you for acting on your scruples.  I don't want to make any assumptions about your experiences, your faith or your own situation.  I only have what you have written and it would be unfair to make a judgement, don't you think?

I hope I'd made it clear that I'm not an expert nor am I trying to dish out advice.  My blog is just a collection of my thoughts to share with my friends and anyone else who is interested.  But I'm happy to offer my opinions on your message. Delighted, in fact.

I agree that attention seeking is indulgent.  However, you have got me wrong and I'm glad to have the opportunity to say a bit more.  Firstly, I'm quite the introvert.  I don't want much attention at all, I'd quite like to be left alone.  But I realised that repression and folding into myself was not doing me any good; even someone naturally aloof needs relationships.  So the blog is a safe place for me, I can share and think out loud and make connections without crying in anyone's face -which in my opinion, still might not be attention seeking.  It might just be being honest.

I don't encourage the 'celebration' of  hardship at all, it is rather impossible to celebrate anything when you're depressed.  Believe me if I could do a jig every time I had a panic attack at the thought of leaving my flat than I would.  I'm half Irish so it would be a fabulous sight.  Apart from the dry heaving.

Instead I feel that sharing struggles actually defuses them. The more we can take the shame and secrecy away from mental illness the more we will find strength, community and hope.  As for sharing on the Internet, well everyone's doing it. I just wanted to be cool.

I believe that there are people who do not want to work their way into a healthier more stable way of being.  Somehow the sadness becomes a safety blanket.  However I don't think this is a sign of someone who has chosen to be lazy and grumpy.  I think that if someone prefers to be sad rather than seek an alternative then they have another set of problems weighing on them.  In which case they need more understanding and support than ever.

The idea that you can 'choose' to be depressed is outright ignorant - apologies, I don't mean to offend.  It is an illness, just like physical ones.  You need help, time and to be treated as an individual to get better.  And of course, some people have the kind of illness that doesn't get better, instead it just gets managed.

In the office of the Church of North India, Delhi,
by John Stott

It is wonderful for you that you have such a clear understanding of your beliefs and what God does and doesn't do.  It frustrates me that I'm tempted to justify my faith when in fact, it does not need justifying.  But please don't worry.  I have friends who are being answers to any prayer that might be prayed.

What I will say though, is that I think that I do point people to God.  God is love after all. When I encourage people to not be ashamed of their struggles, to find trusted friends to hold them up, to serve even when it is difficult.  Ok, I'm not quoting scripture on my blog.  But I do reflect the gospel - the gospel that promotes nurturing relationships that love sacrificially, without prejudice or agenda.  Oh, and yes I look to what God has given me too rather than waiting for an unlikely caped superhero to swoop in.  After all, I'm flipping awesome.

Thanks for your thoughts and I wish you well.'

My faith is small

I'm probably going to have to put
Mabel on the payroll soon

This week is Christian Aid Week.  It's no surprise to me that I've had a good run cloud-wise as I've been spending most of my working time out giving presentations and meeting supporters for the last few weeks.  I know right, I make this big play of being an introvert and I love to go out speaking in front of people.  Things just aren't that black and white folks!

Anywho, as much as this time of year is a hard slog it's also pretty amazing.  On Sunday I was sent away from three of my engagements with food for the journey and I've lost count of how many cream teas I've had...  and the whole raising money for people in poverty is important too.  Natch.

We hear so much about how much more shallow our pockets are and increasing numbers of people are dependent on aid and food packages.  You would think that special fundraising weeks like this one would be a waste of time in this climate.

I'm not saying it's easy, it is getting harder.  I'm not saying we don't need any more money, we do - it's not going as far as it used to.

But in my seven years at Christian Aid I have seen the people with the least give the most - without fail.

It follows what I'm learning about my own reflection (funny how that happens).  When I feel I have nothing, I become the most effective just in ways I wouldn't normally expect.  It's seem that when we have very little, we are forced to get out of the way and let the good stuff work through us.

It's not easy to keep encouraging those who are tired and sometimes unsupported to keep going, that their efforts are making a real difference.  We all want the wealthy and powerful to listen up and sort all this out once and for all, like we know they could.  With some sensible investment and high up decisions eventually we wouldn't need a Christian Aid Week.

But they will only do it if the rest of us use the little we have to shout.  We will only see communities start to thrive in the meantime if we stand with them.  If we all did as much as we could we would seriously be getting somewhere.

And saving the world with a cream tea.  It's not all bad...

Describing the dark

I was sent a lovely message this week from someone struggling to understand what their relative, newly diagnosed with depression, is going through. It was a brave and humbling request to get beyond abstract and cold symptom lists and truly get under the skin of suffering. Most people just want to know what to do, but to be courageous enough to climb into the hole was truly touching.

I have to emphasise again that I'm no expert, nor do I speak for anyone else - just me. Apparently my reply was helpful though, and I was encouraged to share it not simply for people who want to understand but to give words to those trying to express themselves. I hope it doesn't come across as over-sharing or indulgent, forgive me if I am overstepping the mark. But on the off-chance someone feels a little less alone I'll risk it.

I wrote this a while ago in the middle of the night to try and give a form to the mess I felt;

It creeps up on you.  

Like a shadow that stalks you subtly until it slowly moves into your light, surrounding you and removing every colour from the landscape one by one.  

It’s amazing how the world can be so grey and so blinding all at once.  

And then you’re claustrophobic and agoraphobic in turn.  

You are desperate for attention and company and comfort but ignore the phone when it rings and turn down invitations.  

The cycle of determined pledges and broken promises starts, progressively fuelling the fire of self loathing.  

You’re too tired to function or to sleep.  

You either starve or binge.  

You self harm with truths of others’ perfect lives and happy futures.  

There is no doubt that everyone else copes with life better than you, and you are broken and weak to feel as you do.  

You know you should count your blessings but when you do you add so many ‘buts’ and footnotes your list is swamped in hopelessness.  

Soon you forget what it was like to walk lightly through each day as your body becomes weighed down with the clouds.  

Sometimes you are strong enough to put on a convincing mask but the more you do the more you become a lie, a fake.  

The more you fail, the less you deserve.  

And the pithy platitudes.  They infuriate you.  

As do the smiles outside and the sun shining. 

Flowers mock you and music grates.  

You can’t keep up with conversation yet the dialogue in your head is unceasing.  

You feel safe hidden away while screaming with sadness at your invisibility.  

Some days you’re ok.  

Normal seems achievable.  

You fit in, no one would know.  

You even laugh a little. 

Think straight for a while.  

You can make plans and breathe evenly.  

But it doesn't last.  

You’re so fragile the smallest thing tips you back into the hole.  

Or maybe nothing does, you just use up all of your happy.

The numb usually wins with occasional despair.  

At best, you find yourself in awe of how the human body can produce so many tears.  

You deliberately look at yourself in the mirror to put a picture to the feeling of bloated eyes and stinging cheeks.

You hope that your own eyes might say something back to you.  

But there’s nothing.  Nothing has changed.  

You would rather feel furious than empty.  

The days go so slowly yet the weeks pass too quickly and you feel there is more of your life behind you than in front.  

Your heart niggles that you were meant to be something but the darkness laughs at how futile you are.  

It tells you that you were always too broken to be of any use.  

You wait. Something is restless but all you can make out is lethargy.

You know it can't go on forever, but you can't remember how else to be.

I would add a few more paragraphs now. The other side of the conversation going on in my head, the truths that now override some of the nonsense.  

Thank you to all those who help people like me to find the truths. To be able to add more paragraphs. Thank you for being brave enough to jump into the hole.

p.s. here are someone else's' experience: Halfway

Dear Clouds,

You are not welcome here

I know you will not leave

But please move yourself to the edge

You can be on the periphery for now

Be warned, you will be ignored

You are not welcome here

You may still shout and taunt

Expect progressive disregard

You are not the only narrative in here

I have stronger truths to entertain

The weight of your lies will diminish

You are not welcome here

I am well aware you’ll persistently linger

Stubbornly murmuring in my ear

The days when you overwhelm me

Will become fewer and less potent

The days you rule will barely register

You are not welcome here

I know your tricks and distortions

As well as you know my weakness

I am prepared for the uphill struggle

Regardless of how many times you trip me

I will never run out of strength completely

You are not welcome here

Adapt or Cry

Trying to put people into nice neat categories is more often than not, pointless.  We're far too complicated.  However as I've read more about the very well used extraversion–introversion personality theory (Carl Jung) the more I find I make sense.  (These kinds of things count as research; myths, retort.)  As much as I've always known that I am an introvert, I've not considered it too significant.  Until now.

You see, for as long as I've been able to be so analytical, I've always assumed I'm odd.  I've used a lot of energy trying to change the bits of me that don't fit in with society.  I've never been normal and I've got frustrated with the parts of my personality which make being normal so hard.  

Depression just makes these parts of me more prominent, undoes the good work I've done overcoming my brokenness.  Making me ever more weird.

Ahhh normal.  That lovely word that sets the bar for us all to maintain.  The media helpfully make sure we know what is acceptable these days, and we celebrate all the good traits like being sociable, outgoing, funny, with many friends, life and soul, confident...  Let's be honest, the wallflowers are never the heroes until they start to behave in the normal way.

I reckon there's a spectrum, a scale.  And I imagine many people exist somewhere in the middle, despite their leanings one way or another, in the wide band marked 'normal'.  But those of us at the ends, the heavyweight extros and intros, we have to make ourselves fit.  We are made to feel wrong.  And excuse me if I offend, but I think the world is slightly more biased towards extroverts...

Having looked at the traits associated with introversion I have realised, with quite the lightning-bolt, that I am not broken.  I'm just me.  And I'm not the only one, there are loads of us working hard to change ourselves, spending our lives pretending.  And I bet we are the ones susceptible to exhaustion, depression and break downs.  

It's exhausting trying to be someone you're not.

I have made the mistake of mixing depression up with who I am, resenting the parts of me I should be embracing.  There are things I have picked up on the journey that could do with undoing.  And we all have to adapt; but adapting is very different from pretending.   I just don't want to feel so resentful of things about me I probably can't change.  Hopefully a nice dose of self awareness will help me understand how to healthily adapt where necessary and be comfortable with my actual proper self.

We have to celebrate things which make us different.  In fact, I'm sure that I don't really want to be 'normal'.  So how about all of us pretenders stop exhausting ourselves and remind ourselves that we are great.  All along the spectrum, we rock.