Packing up my past

I've read a number of blogs started by people as part of the discernment/training process.  At first I did actually start a separate blog to record these moments for prosperity, partly to indicate a separate part of my life and mostly to have a clean slate on which to write.

But quickly I realised that I needed to chronicle this ordination lark on this here blog.  This blog that has seen me declare a war on global poverty with youthful vigour and fall apart in the darkness of depression.

A while ago when I was having a wobble about whether I was a good fit for a vicar collar, I re read posts from a couple of years ago that I'd not read since hitting 'publish'.

Firstly, sorry everyone, bit intense there for a while...

It's peculiar (and narcissistic) to peep back in time and watch yourself struggle.  But it reassured me that if I can get from there to here, I might just have the resources to go back and forth and wherever else life takes me.  I expected to feel embarrassed but alongside the bemusement I felt a little sense of peace.  The dark didn't overwhelm me, the clouds didn't stay.

I need to continue writing here because whilst it may be a new chapter, it is a continuation of the story.  It hasn't happened apart from the struggles, triumphs and attempts at wisdom that have come before.  It has been borne out of those experiences and I can no more delete the blog posts from the internet than remove times that have shaped and bruised, challenged and humbled me.

Just because I'm geographically moving and changing career doesn't mean I am leaving a thing behind whether I want to or not.  And that's probably just as well.

Don't get a dog on a whim. Trust me.

Big fan of the West Wing.

You know when you accidentally come home with a puppy one day and a really hard year later discover its dad wasn't its dad and thus you are landed with a different breed altogether?
(half mini poodle?  Nope.  Terrier.  Shucks.)

And also the puppy has abnormally high levels of cortisol, the stress hormone which means he lives on the edge of his nerves, at stress point all the time.

And also he has a doggy form of autism, where he cannot read or often use normal dog body language.  This means all other canines are utterly terrifying which has developed into aggressive behaviours borne out of fear.  He growls and barks to make the scary stuff go away and distract from the fact that he's tiny.

No?  Just me?

Yeah.

Finding out from a very helpful and qualified animal behaviourist that Druna being a handful was not of my making, nor is it him being of horrible character, has been a massive relief.  That said there is a whole world of work to do to make life happier for me and the dogs.  But knowing he's scared, he's not in control and those times when he is a poppet are his true character rather than an anomaly... well my patience and compassion is returning.

Now here is an incredibly important statement to put this whole post in context, take heed:  I am not at any point suggesting that having dogs is the same as having children. Nor that having a dog with behavioural issues is the same as having a child with issues.  When I say that I have a new found empathy for parents with children with additional needs, I'm not saying that I know how they feel, or am in the same boat or that my situation compares at all with the burdens and hard work those parents, and any parents carry.  But I have a new found respect and empathy and that can only be a good thing!

I walked with Druna straining at the lead last week and two people sarcastically commented how 'well trained that dog is'.  Had there been a third person they would have got the sharp end of my tongue and a tirade that went something like:  "You have no idea what this situation is, that he's hyper sensitive to stimulation and we're working really hard to make him feel safe and learn appropriate responses to stress and fear.  You have no idea that I'm often embarrassed about his behaviour, that I feel guilty when he barks insanely at every dog he hears or sees, or if people approach him too quickly. I feel like a failure that I didn't catch his issues sooner and that he's spent a lot of his life confused, frustrated and scared.  So piss off with your judgement and discouragement.  Or I'll set my dog on you."

I can only imagine how parents feel when they have a child causing a fuss or drawing attention to them.  To be tutted at, given advice or frowned at when you're doing your best, or just surviving the moment... how demoralising.

A few days a go a young mum was struggling to calm her toddler in a public place.  As I looked up I saw an elderly couple frown loudly in her direction, and a grandmother with her sleeping grandchild move away, not without rolling her eyes at the elderly couple.  Finally a middle aged woman tried to be helpful and distract the 'disruptive' child, mentioning confidently to his mother that children just need to know what behaviour is acceptable.  This wound the toddler up even more.

I was concerned that anything I did might be misconstrued as patronising or worse; I would be wary or defensive if were her.  But I smiled at this young boy as suddenly he made himself laugh loudly and with abandon.  His mother caught my eye and I can only  hope she saw that I was on her side.  I was leaving so I called over as a I passed saying 'he's gorgeous, and clearly very loved'. I felt stupid the moment it came out of my mouth but she smiled at me, probably grateful it wasn't another criticism.

Back to my dog.  The behaviourist said that his issues weren't for for beginners, and he would likely have ended up in a rescue home had he been brought home with someone with less time and other humans to care for.  He's as cute as he is a nuisance, lucky for him, and despite the way I have to make massive adjustments for him I find I love him dearly.  The thought that he might have otherwise ended up in a cage where his issues would have been reinforced, making rehoming extremely unlikely, sends a pang through my heart.  I accidentally saved him from that and he looks to me to protect and love him.  He's teaching me that I'm capable of loving even when it's really awkward and embarrassing, tiring and frustrating.

And most of all, he's teaching me to smile at anyone who looks like they're struggling.  To not judge or criticise, to assume each person has their own journey and burdens and that I have no idea what just happened or what anyone else is facing.

If in doubt, I will encourage.  If not in doubt, I will encourage.  I will try to stand up for people just doing their best.  And when I see someone adding to the burden, I'll set my dog on them.*


*for the record, Druna has a vicious bark but if really threatened he would run screaming. But let's keep that between us.  He thinks he's scary.

Keeping Up Appearances

My Live Below the Line shop

Time for a check in.  I've neglected finishing my Live Below the Line Blog following my five day stint eating on £1 a day, because honestly it got under my skin a bit.

Life has changed a lot since Christmas having gone part time, and taking on the challenge reminded me that although life is less comfortable than it was it is nothing compared to those closer to and below the poverty line.  I've gone from worried and burdened to counting my blessings.  It has been genuinely healthy to have to think about what is essential, what I can live without, what nonsense I comfort eat and what I needlessly buy off the internet when I'm a bit low...

Please don't get me wrong - I am truly blessed to have so much, a roof over my head and money to pay bills, dogs I can feed, a family to keep me secure and more than plenty compared to the majority of the world.  Having less has made me realise this more starkly than when I had more.  While disposable income is amazing and offers loads of wonderful opportunities, it doesn't automatically make us free.  Stripping back and considering carefully where each penny goes is a helpful exercise in prioritising.

For a few months I confess, I filled my new found empty time with moping, sleeping and feeling sorry for myself.  All those plans to move forward and take control seemed like something to do tomorrow.  But as sometimes happens, recently life intervened and helped me out and having said wistfully; 'ideally I'd like to do a few shifts a week at a lovely friendly independent coffee shop ... or something.' I got a job at a lovely friendly independent coffee shop in town.  A month and four shifts later and I feel like it has saved me a little.

I love that I'm not near a computer on those days and I love being active and busy, and I love the ethos of person centered service, where offering time and attention is as important as whatever else you're serving.  But what I really love is being reminded in yet another job that showing people that they are valued and important and listened to is sometimes very simple, and can even be achieved by someone as hopeless as me.  That's got under my skin too.

The clouds still threaten to get darker and some days are harder than others.  I'm not a ray of sunshine and I get discouraged and grumpy and scared.  I'm still a big mess of brokenness.


But I'm ok.  Hope is not found in being comfortable, it is in letting the discomfort show you what is important.  Because I have to be more deliberate about life, the more I cherish it.  Simplicity is freeing and it's not that hard to spread smiles even when you feel empty.

So I'm ok.  Not because life got easier, but because it being difficult is teaching me to find hope.





.

Have you met the Vicious Spiral? It's mean.

If you've not had the misfortune to meet this particular phenomenon, I will now introduce you through the medium of a scribble:

I drew this on yellow paper to make it japey.

The Vicious Spiral is a haunting process that, with sinister subtlety, drags a fragile being away from joy.  It's unpredictable, and yet feels inevitable.  It's obvious and yet insidious.  

For the past month my insomnia, a companion for as long as I can remember, has gone on leave and instead I have found myself needing at least 12 hours sleep otherwise I feel like I'm going to keel over and preferably I'd be getting closer to 16 hours of zzz's.   And it's not refreshing sleep; if I'm awake I'm wanting to be in bed.  It has been disabling.  And while what started this new fad shall most likely remain a mystery, it is now a habitual spiraling mess.

Work has meant I've had days when I've hoped a reset button had been pressed and I could be returned to living during daylight hours but the truth is, I'm so fed up and lethargic if I can stay in bed, I do.  It's really difficult to dredge up will power when everything feels so difficult, and lethargy makes rational thinking feel impossible, and the sense of failure makes everything seem pointless anyway.

Now, to the point of this post (which is not to have a big public me-fest).  Have you ever tried to tell normal people - particularly those with demanding jobs and family lives - that you're so very tired and sleeping for more than half the day?  If you haven't, let me warn you that the response is not as compassionate as you might hope.  'I have nothing to get me out of bed' and 'I go to bed at 8pm and sleep right through' does not engender too much sympathy, confusion is more likely.  (That said, my parents are awesome and my mother can finish the end of my whinging with true empathy and accuracy).

So I'm actually writing this as a plea to those seeking to understand and support their struggling friends.  Sometimes the things us depressives find hard will sound preposterous, ungrateful and pathetic.  We know.  We think so too.

What fuels the spiral is not just the practical pitfalls.  It's the shame.

It's the constant voice that whispers that everyone else is coping better with a harder deal and that you must be so useless you can't even deal with the easy lot you've been given.  You are convinced that everyone will think less of you, laugh or even get annoyed at you for being so weak.

So you withdraw and hide and tell everyone you're fine because it's embarrassing to admit that it's hard to get out of bed or that you're scared to leave the house.  And the spiral takes hold and it's an almighty effort to reverse it.

We all want to be the hero about whom people say things such as 'she's so strong even with all she's up against' or 'he is so together'.  We want to be admired for our strength over adversity, and be 'brave'.  It's awful to know that with even a relatively light load to carry, you still can't cope.  What have I got to be depressed about?

Professional nappers.

My plea to both sufferers and supporters is this; it is easy to be compassionate to people who are struggling in ways you can understand.  It is very hard when the struggles seem disproportionate or insignificant.  But depression changes the measures and scales, and comparisons between people's lives are distracting.

I guess (because I'm really no expert) that this whole deal is about taking people at their word.  If people say they want to support you, tell them what's going on even if you don't know how they can help.  If someone tells you they are struggling, listen to their hurt not just the practical details which may seem silly.

And if you are tempted to go back to bed, I recommend getting some nap buddies.

My Bucket List

Following interest in my Thirty things to do before Thirty list here's the list that I'm now obsessing over.  There isn't a time limit on it this time - well not in the same way.  There's a deadline, I just don't know when it is...

I've been really fortunate to travel and do some pretty cool stuff but also I don't want to have a list of things that are dependent on me having a serious amount of disposable income.  That's pretty discouraging particularly as for the foreseeable future I'm living on a shoestring.  

So for those who asked, here is the work in progress split into two categories; simple and expensive.  Feel free to steal any ideas and let me know if you have others I should add!  

Simple Significant Ideas	Big Crazy Ideas
Climb Snowdon	Visit Denver, Colorado
Sail independently	Visit Vancouver
Watch 10 documentaries on subjects I’m not interested in	Eat at Michelin Star Restaurant (not pub)
Learn to alter clothes properly	Do skydive
Grow hair long again at some point	Go to international rugby match
Skinny Dip	Learn to ride a motorbike
Make a will	Go Parasailing
Do a sportif	Go up in an air balloon
Learn to build something (like the bed I now need)	Publish my own writing
Write to significant people I’ve lost touch with	Watch a live recording of a TV show
Do another 3 week detox	Do a NYE in Edinburgh
Volunteer in a charity shop	Go on a last minute road trip and book accommodation on the way...
Be part of a play	Ride in a helicopter
Watch a sunrise and sunset in the same day	Go on a led retreat
Sing karaoke in public	Hike in Scotland
Play cello at a public performance	Cycle Coast to Coast
Plan my own funeral
Plant a tree
Make ice cream
Fill in my autobiography book (and remember what I have done not just what I want to do)
Be blonde just once
Wear heels everyday for a month
Learn something crafty (craftsy course?)
Read 10 books on subjects I don’t know about
YouTube vocal teachers and strengthen voice
Read all the books I own
Learn a 20 minute yoga routine
Learn the rules of poker
Draw something frame-able http://www.learn-to-draw.com/
Get typing speed up http://www.learntyping.org/
Do a cooking course http://www.chef2chef.net/learn-to-cook/
https://www.futurelearn.com/courses/upcoming

Moving on.

I'm a sucker for markers and I'm feeling profound on this, the last day of my twenties. Not in the slightest bit concerned about age, but with a chapter closed and new one to be marked.  I'm trying to avoid holding myself to a set of expectations, to what security and achievements I might have hoped to be celebrating today.  

I'm desperately holding to the idea that being unsettled is a gift, that growing in my honest brokenness is to be embraced and that life is found in the falling and failing as much as in the surges of success.

Don't get me wrong, I could make a list of things I'm really proud I've done, moments I treasure and experiences I feel incredibly fortunate to have behind me.  But I guess I find it difficult at this unsure point in time to not wish I had a little more to take with me as the page turns.

Anyway, a year ago I made a list of things to do before I turned 30.  Some people don't need or like these kinds of things but it has encouraged me to steer around some of the 'I meant to do that', 'I would have like to do that', 'I wish I had done that' excuses that I want so deeply to avoid.  

On one hand I take massive risks, can be impulsive and make things happen.  On the other, I find it too easy to back away from the uncomfortable, procrastinate and am cautious about taking and making opportunities.  Sometimes I need one half of me to hold the other in check.

I'm glad I did the list, and I will miss it.  I hope I can keep the spirit of ticking things off in my mind, that I can be deliberate about living.


30 Things To Do Before I'm 30

1. Bodyboard:  Done.  And surfing (nearly)

Look, I made bread.

2.  Make real pasta:  Done, but fairly inedible.  Turns out I enjoy making bread though, so that's one carb I may conquer.

3.  Try sushi:  Done, not too fussed about it.

4.  Wax legs:  One of those things that really is as painful the first time as you expect.  Tick.

5. Cycle to Exeter:  And some...

6.  Pay for a strangers' coffee:  This made me more anxious than it probably should have done, I was worried about someone turning me down or catching me at the door to call me a weirdo as I tried to leave with some subtlety.  In the end I gave a cafe £5 and asked them to take it off the bill of the next person who paid for something.  It felt nice but certainly more uncomfortable than it should have done...

7.  Read five novels: done

8.  Go to the dentist:  Now see, I have a bit of a phobia and I have put this off hugely (for about 8 years).  I got a registration form twice and genuinely lost it... but finally have an initial appointment next week.  I am 87% sure I'll get there.

These two 'helped' with the list...

9.  Sail independently:  Unfortunately I didn't even get on the water this year.  This is the kind of thing that strongly depends on other people and the ducks didn't align...  This summer, for sure.

10.  Sew a cushion cover and 11.  Sew a bag:  I did attempt this a couple of times over the year but my sewing machine needs a more experienced eye to make it behave properly.  However this week my mum and I sat down and cut out the bag, and tomorrow I'm taking my machine for her to fix and a bag and cover we shall make.  I don't really have the patience for fiddly things and struggle with precision on anything other than a computer...  but I'd love to be a confident sewer.  This is a good step.

12.  Blow up a balloon without crying:  Shut up.

300 miles DONE

13.  Clear out DVDs and misc nonsense:  Done.  

14:  Have a dinner party:  Some friends old and new came together and put up with my weird concoctions.  At a point I was feeling quite reclusive I was glad this was on my list to encourage me to reach out.  And no one got ill.

15.  Make a cake: Beetroot and Chocolate.  Boom.

16. Do a cycle challenge:  Have I not mentioned this recently?

17.  Watch all of West Wing:  I got into Netflix and watched a fair amount of other top notch drama.

18.  Paint a picture:  Done, and no I'm not showing you.

19.  Buy some jeans that fit:  Complicated one; thanks to the cycling my body shape changed a lot so I have had jeans that have both fitted and not throughout the year.  Exciting stuff.

20.  Climb Snowdon:  Left it too late and decided it was unwise in Jan or Feb.  Another one for this summer though.

21.  Send an anonymous gift: Done.

Rugger with Pa 

22.  Create the book of my life so far:  This was to encourage me to scan in all our family albums, which I have done.  Good thing I had the deadline as it pushed me to keep going, our photos are very precious and I shall be making lots of photobox gifts for a long time to come as well as my own 30 Years Smilebox.

23.  See Arsenal play:  Not on my salary.  But watched a game on TV.

24:  See Exeter Chiefs play:  Done, against London Irish (who lost) with my dad.  Good times.

Upcycletastic

25.  Go to a music concert: I did, with my brother.  Baka Beyond, world music.  Cultured.

26.  See a comedian live: Several, in Dublin with my bestie.

27.  Upcycle a piece of furniture:  Loved this one, if I had space I'd have upcycled my hear out all year.

Buried treasure

28: Swim in the sea:  Done, in the South China Sea.

29.  Bury some treasure:  Done, no I'm not telling where.

30.  Watch the top ten movies ever:  There are a few that I should have seen and clearly it's objective so having consulted 'the internet' I have now seen: Breakfast at Tiffany's, Pulp Fiction, The English Patient, Reservoir Dogs, Schindler's List, Rain Man, Annie Hall, The Dark Knight, Talented Mr Ripley, Erin Brockovich.   


So that's it - 21 Ticked off and 5 pending/gave myself a half point.

Now, what to do with the next 30 years...?

Changing the world

I've been trying to write this post for a week, unable to work out what it is I want to say.  You see, I started this year by spending a few weeks moping.  Good quality, fully invested mopedom. I looked at the Kingdom of Mope, staged a coup and became Ruler.

Then over the space of a week I abdicated, choosing to slowly return to the Real World.  The World in which I am not in charge or control but I probably stand more chance at reaching some of my potential.  As you can imagine, I'm desperate to write a list of some kind, bullet pointing how I got from one world to another.  But instead I have two evolving insights;

For the past months I've been taking a little more notice of articles about mental health and on the whole have found them, and the mere fact they exist in mainstream discourse, a comfort.  When I saw Ruby Wax was blogging from her own depths and the way she was received on social media by people crying 'yes, exactly' I was inspired by her courage not just to write it, but to wait it out.

I did let myself wallow a bit, and a bit too long.  But the new twist was that I didn't let it add to the wonky voices that so regularly convince me I'm worthless.  Just an illness.  Just waiting it for it to pass, like the clouds.

Secondly, I have learned how sensitive I am to inconsistency and to change.  Depression makes you constantly measure yourself to the external and the more things around you change, the more it makes your confidence wobble.  But if I need consistency from other people, I really have to apply it to my values.  After a fortnight in Wallowsville I remembered that no one was going to come and save me.  There were gorgeous people with hands outstretched to me, but no one was going to lift my arm up to meet them.

Bottom line?  Depressed or not, I'm a better person when my world doesn't revolve around me.  When I hold on to the smallest shred of knowledge that I am able to still give something at my lowest, rather than give nothing when I'm hiding under my duvet, I get just enough motivation to sigh 'nothing to lose' and start making contact with the scary Outside Land.

A few scary steps taken and the simple fact that the clouds were on the move and I'm ending the month in a different place.  I'll probably pop back to Cloudy Town sometime but I won't panic.  I may write a bad review... but I'll keep my eye on the horizon and stick to my guns; no one can take the initial steps out of there but me.  So when I'm ready, time to get trudging.

One final thing, if I may.  I got some feedback suggesting I stop 'adding to the whingers on the internet'.

I started this blog at a point in my little life where I believed that everyone can make a real difference to our world, whatever part we play.  Over the past year I've doubted that I might be included in that assertion.

People like Stephen Fry and Ruby Wax and so many others are changing the face of mental health, making those who feel they are struggling and unimportant know that they are not alone - far from it in fact.  The more people who talk about it, admit to it and normalise it the better.  What if we could take the stigma away from depression so that we can deal with the illness head on?!

I'm not famous or influential, but in joining in that conversation, adding to the movement; I am in fact trying to changing the world a little.


Thank goodness. I do not have the brain space to think of a new name for this blog....

The inevitable 'catch up and review' type post

This time a year ago I was in Bogota. Contemplating life, the world and another year I had escaped for three weeks to try and get a grip on why I was so increasingly unsettled.

Of course I had a complete overhaul and massive revelations that changed the course of my life entirely.  Ok hardly, but it did start me off down a track of vulnerable honesty and deconstruction.

It's a very difficult place to be in right now, looking at the determined lists and resolutions I made in what I assumed would the the low point that led to the high.  Now I know it was the beginning of a year of falling apart and sharing my weakness, and that the lows were far from the bottom and anything other than fleeting.

It's hard to ignore the instinct that tells me this year has been a failure, that I've not achieved what I set out to do.  In fact I'm taking apart big chunks of my comfortable life partly to move forward - but also because I can't carry on.  That's a horrible feeling.  To know that a year on I'm still not ok.

It's safe to say that my pride has been to diminished to nothing this year; I've had to be too honest to hold on to any illusions of togetherness or success.  After ten years of independence I've had to ask my parents to look after me again, and am forever asking friends to forgive me for hiding from them.  The title of this blog stings as I go part time to try and find the energy to build myself up again.  At the very height of insecurity I'm choosing to give up having any disposable income and giving up my home.

It's not a bucket list or handful of New Years' resolutions that I need this year.  It's not that I'm directionless or bored or lazy.

'No human, you can't
go back to bed.'

I'm broken and I'm scared.

So what do I do? Hide under my duvet indefinitely?  Unfortunately the four legged creatures I live with won't allow this. Write some lists full of gusto and positive cliches?  Been there, done that.
Make some goals?  Falling short anymore is simply too much. Pull it together? If I could, I would have already.

By my calculations that leaves one thing; wait it out.  The one good thing about living with depression for a while is that I now know what to expect. I just have to hold back the panic and breathe.

There are always chinks of light even when the dark seems unending.
Even if the clouds never cease their lurking, there are days that seem lighter.
I cannot compare myself to anyone else, particularly on social media. (Which lies.)
There is no shame in starting again, even if this isn't starting again... it's all forward.
I genuinely prefer a blank page to a rut.  Remember this.
Hurt nurtures compassion,  This is the time to become a really really nice person.
I don't have to be sorted yet, if ever.  I am allowed to muddle through.
It'll be ok.  It will.

And why I am broadcasting this quite so publicly? Because feeling ashamed feeds the dark.  Making depression a taboo also further stigmatises it. Talking about it shines light on how common it is to feel out of control and useless.  Because whatever I may feel on any given day, what I've documented reminds me that I am not completely lost, that I've had moments of clarity and hope - maybe even wisdom. I'm not whinging, I'm fighting.  I'm not pushing a sob story, I'm telling a real story.  I don't want attention, I want it on the record that I'm not going to give up.

Happy, terrifying, New Year.  There is more to come.

How did I do THAT?

I've been a long way.  And come back again.

It's safe to say that I haven't hidden just how nervous I have been about the cycle challenge my Dad and I took on this year.  It's been quite the palaver and I've been on the verge of backing out on more occasions than I care to admit.

Here's us at the start line:

Here's us at the finish line:


















Four days, three countries, three hundred miles.  And I rode every single one of them.  WHAT?!?!?

So being that I made quite the meal of it all, I wouldn't blame anyone for asking 'how exactly did I manage it?!'

Honestly?  I don't know.

But I have a few ideas;

- I didn't want to let my dad down.  That was worse than the thought of hating it.

- I didn't want to have to tell everyone I backed out or gave up.

- The more I did, the more I surprised myself.  The more I achieved, the more I wanted to know how much further I could go.  The further I got, the more I could do...

- It was rarefied air; all I had to do each day was get on a bike.  That's it.  Just keep said bike moving forward.  And that seemed a lot more manageable than normal life.

They say that people get to the end of these challenges and feel sad that it's over and I confess that sounded like utter tosh a week ago.  But come Saturday and the final 10 miles and I got it.  Partly because of the high of making it, the beauty of the scenery and the uplifting support from home.  But for me, I wanted to stay in the bubble, where all I needed to do was get on a bike.

My trusty steed.

In my last post I mentioned that carrying baggage is part of life.  I took mine all the way to Brussels.  And I wasn't the only one.  It was clear that we'd all been carrying some hefty weight with us for the trip.  Yet no one was shouting about theirs or opening it up for show and tell.  Trips like these are utter escapism and in the bubble you get to focus on something far easier than what you're carrying.

It was a privilege to travel with the weary and the burdened, quietly and positively.  The father raising money for the Teenage Cancer Trust because his son has cancer.  The gentle man going through a divorce.  The funny northerner who had a suspected heart attack a few weeks ago.  I only caught glimpses of the baggage we each held to our chests but it was a breath of fresh air to both silently acknowledge and overcome it all if only for a few days.

I want to keep cycling if only to keep up some fitness and balance out my biscuit habit.  And I also want to seek out some rarefied air occasionally.  I think it might help to readjust the load and look at the scenery for a few moments.  I need days where all I need to do is get on a bike, so that when I step back out of the bubble I can be that little bit fitter.

p.s. you can still sponsor us

Fear and padded shorts.

On Sunday I preached on Matthew 16:21-28.  If you've not picked it up from my previous blogs, it's worth knowing that I'm not feeling much at the moment, it's a numb trudging through treacle type time.

When I first approached this text my heart sunk - here we go again, another passage that is interpreted in a number of ways; not all of which are particularly helpful.  There it was ready to thwack me about the head; pick up your cross and carry your burdens.  Some people add 'these things are sent to try us' or 'give everything up because then you'll be rich in heaven'.

Here's what I saw.

Jesus lived a life, and it can't have passed him by that most humans picked up a fair bit of baggage on the way.  Surely Jesus was inviting us burdened folk to pick it all up and come on the journey with him.  Maybe Jesus was essentially saying 'your baggage doesn't exclude you, bring it with you, you can use it, we can find hope within it.'

Blessed are the cracked; for they will let in the light.

I feel like I'm carrying a heavy load at the moment and it makes me want to give up, a lot.  I'm often like a child silently whimpering 'please don't make me go.'  But that load doesn't exclude me from moving forward and interacting with the world around me - not despite the brokenness but through it.

Tomorrow I travel to my childhood home for the last time before my parents leave that side of the country, and embark on simply the hardest thing I've ever attempted.  It sounds so silly in a world of serious stories and conflict, but my 300 mile charity cycle ride is a big deal at this moment in my life.

If I make it to the start line, I will have overcome the anxiety that makes it hard to leave my flat.  If I manage to ride most of the route each day I will have overcome my lack of fitness.  If I do the whole challenge I will be exceeding my own expectations.  But pulling out or giving up is not an option - I won't deal well with letting anyone down or having another failure on my books.

Whatever happens I will be carrying my burdens and my brokenness with me, all the way to Brussels, because they are part of my journey and there is hope within them.

I'm jealous of my dog. Seriously.

Does anyone else look at their dog and wish with all their heart they could swap places?  Really, not flippantly, but with utter envy and wholehearted regret that it cannot be.  If only I believed that somehow I could be reincarnated I truly think that I would put my energies into positioning my soul into the right place for a puppy rebirth.

Ok, this has got a bit weird.  And I wish I could say I was overstating the truth but the fact is, I often look at Mabel and know I would give an awful lot to have such a joyful life.  Yes it's shorter than the average (Western) human's but it's lived with such gusto.  I wouldn't mind running into a few glass doors and accidentally drinking the odd spilled pool of vinegar (she is a bit of a twit) if it meant I could find utter fulfillment in a tummy tickle or a moving ball.  And gosh, how she loves people.  Unconditionally, without limit, judgement or memory.

Clearly, to live like this requires you to be dimmer than a darkened room in a long lost cave... but as Mabel demonstrates; ignorance is sometimes bliss.

So here I am again, resigned to my dismal fate of not being a dog.  I have a brain that over-thinks and is often a bit wonky (medical term there).  I feel burdened, restless and reluctant most of my waking hours.  And as for people... well most seem ok I guess.  But I'm not gonna lick their faces.

For me it is not second nature, or first for that matter, to enjoy things or throw caution to the wind.  Unlike Mabel, I more than look where I am going and wonder if I have the energy to chase anything at all.  I am preoccupied by purpose, possessed by the search for meaning and anxious to not fall off anything - metaphorically or literally.

Mabel's had her fair share of accidents, cuts and bruises.  And does it slow her down?  If only... And yes, she doesn't have to pay bills, concern herself with climate change or worry about her health.  But I've said it before and I declare it again; I want to be More Mabel.

I went surfing for the first time this weekend and got a glimpse of what Mabelness might feel like.  I took on those waves, determined to get through them to reach a decent depth to catch a wave.  However many times they pushed me backwards and slapped me about I kept pushing through them.  I lollopped onto the board on my stomach regardless of how clumsy I felt, I attempted to stand up even though I knew I'd probably fall straight off.  I risked being chucked off more than I risked missing a good wave.  I kept going.  Because it was really fun.

I don't do many things in life just for the sake of it, I'm a bit too thinky perhaps.  I do things because they need to be done and even the things I want to do are probably because I've put them on a list as part of a strategy to be a more fulfilled, interesting person.  But I don't chase balls for absolutely no reason other that because I like it (definitely metaphorical).

Every time I envy Mabel sleeping contentedly without a care in the world or running like a loon up and down the stairs just cos she likes it, I'm going to do something that doesn't matter.  Might be go for a pointless walk.  Or put on a nice outfit for no reason.  It might be to bake a cake for no one or write someone a card just because.  It might be to join Mabel on the floor and see if I can work out what is so fascinating about licking the rug (it probably won't include that one actually).  Who knows.  It doesn't matter.  Not everything has to.

Burn Out

I had a revelation this week.  I'm not sure if my conclusions will stick, be controversial, prompt some responses - I hope they do.  I'm thinking out loud (yet silently, oh how profound) and would love to hear what ideas other people have on this here subject.  Here goes:

It is all too common for people in all sorts of sectors to over work.  I know from my experience in ministry and the charity sector that there's a certain badge of honour attached to pushing yourself.  No one says it, but we all want to be one of those people seen to be earning our way and going the extra mile.  Some of us do thrive under pressure and like the whirlwind of busy-ness.  But there is a sort of martyrdom to it all, and it inevitably leads to burn out or break down.

Mabel recharging.

For me, some of the reasons I pushed myself so hard in the past include:

- fear that I wasn't good enough
- fear that I would be judged for not doing enough
- fear that I would let people down
- fear that I wouldn't be respected
- fear that I had nothing else to fill the time
- fear that I wouldn't be as good as everyone else

Hmmm.  I also liked my job, loved the work and enjoyed myself.  Mostly.  I like to be seen as a 'busy person', I thought that showed my value.  My ego loved it when people admired how I 'fit it all in' or 'kept going'.

Until I stopped keeping on going.  And as I picked myself up knowing I had to change something I lost sight of who I was outside of what I did.

So as I've grown up a bit I've tried to learn some new habits, but I've struggled to know when to go the extra mile and when to stay within strict boundaries.  I mean, giving your all  is a good thing, right?

I think, that there is a difference between going the extra mile and over doing it.

One is selfish, the other is selfless.

I wonder if there's a checklist that might be useful (lists, love 'em), something like this:

- Am I doing extra because I have to earn something
- Am I doing more because I feel passionately I can offer something
- Am I giving more because I don't want someone else to do it
- Am I giving extra because someone needs me to help

... and so on.  Sacrifice is biblical.  Earning your worth or feeding your ego is not.

I think that putting others first can be something that sustains us, as long as we let others serve us too and value ourselves.  So, go the extra mile but make sure you've got the right shoes on.

Thoughts?

Thursday 16th January

I accidentally wandered into a cemetery to get out of the heat (moment for smug smile) and as the music floated out of the small chapel in the centre I ducked between the tightly packed concrete structure, the walls of plaques and statues.

With the sun shining the atmosphere was far from sombre but it did put my little life in some perspective.  Every little life has the potential the make waves, the opportunities to learn and love. Although sometimes we will feel like we're going to be just another name in a crowd.  But we are actually simply part of something bigger than our self. It's the difference between being individualistic or looking around us.

My favourite clothes are my summer clothes, the ones appropriate for hot weather which of course we get on a regular basis.  Thus my favourite clothes are mostly in waiting, and I just wear what's comfortable even if it makes me feel less confident.  Can't risk being chilly, or worse - standing out.

Life is precious, and I want to be someone that embraces all it has to offer - ups and downs.  I don't want to live in waiting, hiding away ready for everything to be lined up.  So I will wear my red high heels on a weekday because they look great, even though I won't fit in. I'll put my summer clothes on in the winter, with a few additions probably, because I feel good in them.

I will live this little life now, not sometime in the future.