When Friends Go Weird

This is a hard post to write. It is one I have done a lot of reflecting on. At the back end of a tumultuous year like no other in my lifetime of 37 years, it seemed appropriate to post it now. As much as I'd like to believe it, I doubt when the clock clicks over to 2021 that these problems will magically disappear.

As fear of COVID-19 gripped the world, one of the repercussions has been the rise of conspiracy theories. These have always been around, but now social media, anxiety, and an increasingly unstable world have seen them gain new followers - ones who I would previously have never believed would have become entangled in things like this. I have at times felt devastated as it became glaringly obvious on Facebook that more and more friends had 'gone down the rabbit hole', and no amount of reasoning would convince them it was a terrible mistake. Suddenly anyone not with them was against them - we were 'living in fear', 'enslaved to the government', and needed to 'wake up'. COVID didn't exist, or at least was a lot less dangerous than the media was reporting. We were going to be forcibly vaccinated by Bill Gates and microchipped. The government was putting fluoride in our drinking water to damage our 'third eye' and make us docile and obedient. We shouldn't be wearing masks or staying in our homes. It was all part of a government plan to turn Australia into a dictatorship.

I was more scared of these people, my friends, than I was of the virus.

How was a longstanding friendship going to survive these bizarre beliefs? When lockdown ended and we could meet in person again, would I have to endure long-winded rants of how I was a sheep and needed to be 'woke'? Would every topic suddenly become an elephant in the room?

The scary thing was that some people were not just saying they believed these things, they were actively changing their lifestyle in accordance - in ways I could never imagined some people would have just a year earlier. This included no longer vaccinating their kids, planning to homeschool (presumably because the school wouldn't enrol their kids if they were unvaccinated), buying expensive water filters so they wouldn't have to drink tap water.

But then I started to consider how it must have looked to my non-Christian friends and family when I became a Christian. I know for a fact that many of them thought I'd become 'weird', that they were worried I'd been sucked into a cult, that I was living out my faith in big life decisions, rather than it being a passing fad. They must have been scared, they must have thought they'd lost me, they must have wondered if they could ever have a normal relationship with me again, they must have worried I'd bash them over the head with my Bible at every opportunity.

Maybe all this conspiracy theory stuff will be a fad for some friends. I truly hope so. I was talking to a good friend of mine who is a nurse in mental health, and she thinks the anxiety of being in social isolation has messed with people's minds. I'm inclined to agree. I also know that some people who are really into conspiracy theories also have bipolar disorder and, because of their beliefs regarding health, often refuse to take the proper medication for it.

I've also realised that rather than running in fear from some people because of their passion and outspokenness, I could use these opportunities to speak about Jesus. If they want a platform to speak about their great love, then they cannot refuse me the chance to respectfully speak about mine. Then I pray they will know what true freedom is, that trusting God in all things, means you are not living in fear.

2019: The Grieved Bystander

I’ve popped in to type a rare blog post as the final hours of 2019 ebb away.

This year has been hard. While nothing absolutely terrible has happened to me and my immediate family, it has been a year where my heart has been heavy. Sad circumstances and change have hit those I care about hard, and I’ve felt their pain. Sometimes I think I’ve felt more pain than they have. While I’ve grieved over the bad choices I’ve witnessed others making, they’ve seemingly skipped along, thinking that they’ve made wonderful decisions.

There have been more separations and divorces than I can count. Some have been Christian couples. The family breakdowns have hit my town hard as the wives have left with the children to (usually) head to Perth. This has meant less kids at the school and a loss of friends/acquaintances. One of Rory’s besties is one of these, but Rory has taken it pretty well. I don’t know why, but divorce really affects me emotionally (my parents have been married for 45 years, so it's not that I'm from a broken home). I think I was more desensitised to it when I was younger.

We lost Duncan’s cousin’s husband and a friend who used to go to our church – both to cancer. They both trusted the Lord and their witness in their final days was a great encouragement. I hadn’t been to a funeral for ages, yet went to two within eight days, both just before Christmas.

I’ve witnessed God’s amazing hand in bringing a couple of young adults to faith this year – one with no church background whatsoever, who literally found the pastor’s phone number and decided to come along. It is an absolute joy to see these two young women worshipping God joyfully each Sunday, and it is an enormous encouragement to see how they have already made some hard decisions in what needs to be put off in their lives in order to live for Him. Sadly, for one that comes to the Lord, another falls away. It has grieved me that several people I knew in Perth no longer follow Jesus, either that or I have some grave fears for them (judging by some of their posts on Facebook). When people say, “I’m a new person,” or “I’m not that person anymore”, or “I think differently about things now,” coupled with other things they’ve been posting, it is often a cause for alarm.

There have been some dramas with other relationships and I have put my foot down this year, no longer willing to be a door mat and pushed around. For years, it seemed people think Duncan and I will constantly adjust our plans, especially concerning kids’ routines, to suit them (and then change their plans again and again and expect us to comply) and I won’t. I don’t regret it; it’s been a year of incredible freedom in that regard, but not without friction and grief.

My writing seems to be going nowhere and, like last year, I have felt despondent over whether it is what God would have me do. My novel was sent out, but I heard nothing back. I’m currently doing another full edit to send it out again. I’ve entered this writing competition every month this year, bar one, and have failed to make the short list. I want to give up, but a small determined part of me won’t quit.

My battle with PMDD has lingered on this year with no cure in sight. I cannot take the one thing that could ‘fix’ the symptoms as it would put me at risk of a stroke. So, it seems I just have to battle on and face menopause later on with nothing (that works) to give any relief.

There have been highlights. Our family trip to Exmouth in July/August (must blog about that) was wonderful as I got to see my cousin and her family for the first time since October 2010. It was the first time she’d met my children. I joined a new Bible study group this year, made up of women from my church. It was an absolute delight meeting with women of different ages and stages and getting to know them better. We went into recess for harvest, but hopefully we can meet again in 2020. I’ve been doing Zumba every Tuesday morning and it was so good exercising in such a supportive environment. We all have coffee together afterwards and it’s organised upfront and openly by the instructor; no secret cliques sneaking away together. Everyone is invited and there is no bitching. It’s great!

Although 2019 has at times felt boring and dull, that I was just plodding along doing the day-to-day stuff, it has given me a shake up in that I’ve been forced to question who or what my security is found in. Is it when things are going smoothly, or when everyone around me is well and happy? Or is it in my great God, who holds the world in the palm of His hand. I’m praying the ‘shake-ups’ so many people have been through this year will bring to Him and not further from Him.

Fast Away 2018 Passes

I've revived the blog...for now.

I thought it fitting to end 2018 with a post.

This year has simply flown by. I know that is a cliche, but it's true. I'm struggling to rank 2018. Has it been good or bad...or just ordinary? I think all of the above.

2018 was the year I returned to the stage after a four year absence. We rehearsed from mid June until the first show in late October. At first, it was one rehearsal per week, then two as things cranked up. My initial disappointment and hurt over getting a small role turned out to be a great blessing. Even though I had a smallish part, I got on famously with the other cast members I had my scenes with, and I was relieved to have NOT got the part I'd so desperately wanted at the beginning. God really does know what is best for us.

My other highlights were doing Zumba each week while Flynn was at daycare, AND...drum roll.....getting to finally meet Meredith and Wendy. We had a lovely lunch together at Kings Park in Perth in November. I really miss the old days of blogging, when we all blogged regularly and had a really encouraging little community.

Another triumph was finally progressing with our garden. We've had no water supply to the garden since we moved here in December 2010, but FINALLY we have lawn, reticulation, some vegies in the garden...and a HOSE!

 

Rory has finished Pre-Primary - his first year of full-time school - and did tremendously. He is growing in confidence, loves school work, and can read simple sentences.

There were lows. One was our failed adoption (and therefore rehoming) of Shadow. Another was my diagnosis of PMDD. It all started in March and resulted in serious mood swings (white hot anger or floods of tears) and searing headaches which left me bedridden. The doctor has tried to help me, but there seems to be little to be done. 2019 will be a year of further investigation as I can't go on like this each month.

Another bitter disappointment was that I seem to be getting nowhere in my writing career. I've wanted to be a writer since I was seven years old, and now I'm seriously questioning if I have what it takes. My novel has been knocked back repeatedly and I haven't done any good in the short story competitions I've entered. The only option left seems to be self-publishing, but that will cost me and I'm not gifted at marketing my own work. The whole saga has left me quite depressed at times.

I've had several dear friends move further away from me this year. One from Perth to Broome, one from Perth to Victoria, one from the farm here to travelling around Australia, one from Albany to Alice Springs, and another is leaving Perth to move to Sydney in January. Even though I don't get to see them all the time, it's harder when they're even further away. Happy for them, sad for me.

There have also been some strained local relationships. I won't go into it, but Duncan has been having similar difficulties with the same people. It just shows that some people have issues and won't like you whatever you do.

As far as 2019 goes, our weekly routine looks like it will remain much the same - one child at full-time school, one child at home, husband working full-time and me doing a little bit of casual admin work from home. Flynn will go to daycare on Tuesdays and I'll have six precious hours to myself. It's nice to have a bit of stability.

To be honest, I haven't missed blogging. I really needed and enjoyed the break. I'll pop in from time to time, with a book review here or an opinion there. Now that Flynn is going to sleep by himself in the evenings, I may have a bit more time to write...maybe.

May 2019 be great, and may you know the one who loves us all, despite who we are, and died for you and rose again....Jesus.

Upsetting the Happy Apple Cart

We said goodbye to Shadow the weekend before last. Sadly, it just wasn't working out. Gypsy kept attacking him (she now seems to dislike all other dogs, except Maya), he was too rough and hyper for the boys and they were terrified of him, I tried to train him, but was having no success and there are no dog training classes available locally. At times, it felt like I was running a prison exercise yard - the boys would stay inside while the dogs where in the yard, because they were too terrified to go outside with Shadow, then the dogs would go back into their yard while the boys came outside to play. The logistics were a nightmare. Plus I'd be constantly yelling at Gypsy to leave Shadow alone.

Duncan contacted Shadow's former owner to let him know it wasn't working out, and if he'd like to find another home for him. He found a new owner in Fitzroy Crossing, of all places. When I heard where he was going, my first thought was, I hope he's not going to drunken deros who already have fifty half-starved dogs. Thankfully, she is a 50-year-old teacher and apparently is a lovely lady. Shadow's former owner picked him up and took him to Perth to be flown to Fitzroy Crossing. No doubt it will be a bit of a temperature change, but I hope he'll be very happy in his new home.

Sometimes doing the right thing still hurts.

I'll miss you, Shadow. Have a wonderful life.

Flynn was braver around Shadow when
Shadow was occupied with a bone.

How Social Media Ruins Friendships

I'm sure I could easily come up with at least 10 reasons why social media is beneficial for friendships, but my experiences over the past five months with Facebook and friendships have left me shaken, anxious, paranoid, angry and bitter. I won't go too deeply into the events that caused this reaction (you never know who is reading after all....although part of me wants to just put it all out there), but enough so you know what has caused this extreme reaction.

I've written about this briefly before, but in early October last year, I went to message a friend and my heart leaped as I saw the 'Add Friend' button on her profile. Since I consider this person a 'real life' friend, I messaged her via Messenger, asking what I'd done wrong. I considered maybe her kids had been playing with her phone, until I got the dreaded message. Yes, she'd done it. The reason? She 'didn't agree with some things I post'. I asked her to elaborate. This isn't someone from high school who I haven't seen in 18 years, so it could make any in-person encounters awkward. Last year I posted about how it's usual habit for many Facebook users to unfriend anyone who disagrees with them on anything! I tried to recall if I'd shared any controversial political articles recently. I eventually learned the reason.

I was unfriended because I was sick.

Yep, it was because I posted about this incident.

Then I was re-added by this person a couple of months later as if her actions hadn't had any effect on me at all! She knew I'd been upset about it, but I didn't mention the extent. That whole saga about being in hospital with abdominal pain meant I lost more than just my health temporarily. My parents didn't believe me and acted like it was a massive inconvenience for them, and now a friend of mine had unfriended me because they just didn't want to know (they said they cared too much, but I would never turn my back on a friend in need, even if I was worried about them). I even asked some other friends of mine (not mentioning this person's name) and they thought it was very weird behaviour.

So I still have a yucky taste in my mouth months later and I'm wary about what I post. But then the rebel in me, declares, Who cares what they think!

• There is no Facebook/real life divide when it comes to friendships. I'm sick of people behaving waaay differently on social media to how they would in real life. If you're rude to me online, that affects our real-life friendship. I'm not just going to forget about what you said because you forgot I'm a real person behind a computer screen. I've seen people write, I'm doing a massive friend cull on FB, getting rid of negative people in my life, then declare that they still want to be real-life friends with the people they unfriended, and not understand why those people were hostile. Ummm yep, it IS personal, buddy. You shafted them out of 500 people and wonder why they're pissed off. And if they're so 'negative' online (which is usually code for they don't agree with everything their friend says or does), why do you still want them in your life?
  
• If you're unfriending someone because you're jealous, then YOU'RE the one with the problem. Unfriending/unfollowing someone you're jealous of won't solve the problem, because it's raised heart issues for you that you need to deal with.

• If someone wants to post 'personal' things, let them. If they want to post often, let them. I've heard people complain, "Mary posts so much on Facebook,". Well, how do you know Mary posts a lot unless you're always on there reading it?
•  I've had enough of women using Facebook to be bitchy and exclusive. I get sick of seeing mutual friends post stuff about being 'best friends' with someone and liking one person's every post, while completely ignoring other people.

• If you're don't like or are not interested in what someone else posts, just scroll on by. Unless you're really concerned about this person and what they're posting, just let it go. People like different things. Get over it! Life would be pretty boring if everyone was interested in the same things.

Related posts:
Fakebook
Facebook 'Friends'
Facebook Etiquette 
Faceless

A Face in the Crowd

I thought I saw you
In the crowd.
They walked like you,
Their stance was proud.

Their hair the same,
Their profile too.
I really thought
It could be you.

Then I remembered,
You were gone.
My heart fell flat
As I walked on.

I see your face
Wherever I go.
Guess I just thought
That you should know.

Still hear your laugh,
And see your smile,
Though you've been gone
For quite a while.

I miss you more
Than words can say.
Wish it had been you
That I saw today.

Author Unknown

Seven years today

Nan's surprise 80th. January 1993

The King is Dead

I had planned to do an end of 2017/start of 2018 musing type post today.

That will have to wait.

Today, we got back from a lovely day by the river (about 45 minutes from our house), only to find Solomon dead.  He'd been the King of Cluckingham Palace since a month before Rory was born.  Understandably, I'm sad.

If only the eggs had hatched, he could have produced an heir.  And we're finally in the process of building a new chook house.  What cruel timing.

He had a good life. I like giving roosters the chance of a good life.

Enjoying a dustbath with his wives. January 2015

Sometimes You Just Have To Cry

Sometimes crying makes you feel better.

On Friday, I ended up in the emergency department in Albany hospital. The boys and I had been staying with my parents for a few days in the school holidays.  I woke up with shocking abdominal pain.  It started between my chest and my belly button, went through to my back, and then up to my chest, and I started wondering if I was having a heart attack.  The pain was second only to my labour with Flynn.  I couldn't keep still and couldn't stop crying out in agony. 

What really distressed me was not the pain...it was the reaction of my own parents.  They literally didn't care.  My dad yelled at me to stop disturbing everyone.  He told me to take Panadol, put a heat pack on and be quiet.  My mum told me I was scaring the kids (I wasn't; they were totally distracted by the TV) and that I need to learn self-control and be quiet in pain.  I yelled at her furiously, asking if she'd been quiet when she'd hurt her back nine years ago and ended up in hospital for a week.  My dad told me he'd take me to the hospital as long as it didn't make him late for work.

What the heck?!?  They are not usually this horrible and I'm still hurting from it.  I confronted them later, telling them how much their attitude hurt me, that I was in a lot of pain and couldn't just be quiet because it was inconvenient for them.  But they still don't get it.

Then today I was in tears because a friend of mine unfriended me on Facebook.  If it was someone from high school that I hadn't seen since then, and had no 'real life' relationship with, I wouldn't care.  But this friend is someone I see regularly, am on good terms with (or so I thought), can talk about all sorts of stuff with, and Rory is best friends with her son.  I asked her, via private message, why she unfriended me and said I was sorry if I'd inadvertently hurt her.  She said she didn't agree with some of the stuff I posted on Facebook, but that we could still be friends in real life.  I asked her if she could clarify what sort of things she disagreed with and she said she'd tell me in person sometime (I saw that she'd also unfriended Duncan and another mutual friend).  Then, she messaged me this evening, explaining that she finds it too overwhelming reading about friends suffering (like when I posted about my abdominal pain).  I'm glad we have sorted it out, but the whole afternoon has left me somewhat drained and emotionally fragile. (I will do another post on the nature of real life/online friendships later, as it is a subject that has often fascinated and perplexed me.)

Just when I thought I'd been doing so well recently, too.

Side note: I am fine, physically.  The hospital did tests and an ultrasound, but all were clear.  It is not related to my recent surgery.  They thought it might be my gallbladder, but it doesn't seem to be.  After some heavy duty painkillers, which left me very drowsy, I was home a few hours later, and the pain has not returned since.

Related posts:
Facebook 'Friends'

Dwell by Garage Hymnal

I'm thankful for my loving, gracious and merciful God who doesn't treat me as my sins deserve.

I spent time away from you,
Turned my back away from you,
But you drew me near to you, you drew me near.

I hold you at a distance, but you wait so patiently,
Gently whisper, gently tell me what I need to hear,
You tell me what I need to hear.

You say my soul dwells in the hope of tomorrow,
I will trust you, and I will sing only,
Because my soul dwells in the hope of tomorrow,
I will trust you, and I will sing to you.

You spent time pursuing me,
You sent your Son to die for me,
You sang songs of life to me,
You sang songs.

You say my soul dwells in the hope of tomorrow,
I will trust you, and I will sing only,
Because my soul dwells in the hope of tomorrow,
I will trust you, and I will sing,
Yes, I will sing,
Lord, I will sing only to you.

Lord, you hear my selfish cries,
Lord, you read my darkest thoughts,
Lord, you see my foolish ways,
Lord, you sense my deepest fears,
Lord, you know my doubting heart,
And still you long, you long for me.
I hold you at a distance,
But you wait so patiently.

Because my soul dwells in the hope of tomorrow,
I will trust you, and I will sing.


Lyrics from here

Books and Chooks

Rory's school celebrated Book Week this week, and on Monday, all of the children (plus teachers) dressed up as a character from a book.

Of course Rory wanted to go as Thomas.

Since I knew I wouldn't be able to drive for a fair while after surgery, I needed to get a head start on it.  I told Rory, "No changing your mind."

He didn't win a prize, but had a fantastic day.  Thomas is looking a bit worse for wear though.

Later that afternoon, I made a sad discovery.  Marilyn, my White Leghorn hen, was dead behind the perch.  It seems that she must have died during the previous night and fallen off her perch.

Of course, Rory had to get on the bus the next morning and announce loudly, "Marilyn fell off her perch and broke her neck."

I'm not sure what the bus driver thought....

I Won't Give Up

I sent my novel to a publisher in mid January and, knowing it would take up to three months to hear from them, I grew increasingly nervous and restless as mid April approached.  Then, two weeks ago, I got an email I did not want to receive:

Dear Sarah

Thank you for giving Fremantle Press the opportunity to consider your manuscript THE ROAD TO SEPTEMBER for publication. It has now been reviewed for our fiction list and regrettably I have to tell you that the decision was to not make an offer to publish.

There were tears shed.  Now I guess I have to keep trying.  I've come too far to give up.  I won't give up.

Like the many publishers who reportedly rejected J.K. Rowling and Harry Potter, maybe one day those who have rejected my work will be kicking themselves.  And all I will say is, "You had your chance."

Nine Years and Three Years

Yesterday was a significant day.


Nine years since we said hello to marriage:

Three years since we said goodbye to a much-loved friend:



I tried to dwell on the happy side.

The First Day of School Post Nobody Writes

Today was Rory's first day of kindergarten. I'm not trying to be a pessimist, but I haven't had high hopes for a smooth start since he attended orientation late last year.  During both orientation sessions he clung to me, didn't want to play with other kids, and didn't want to do any of the activities.  We've been trying to talk positively about school over the past few months, but he hasn't been very enthusiastic.  He's been going to daycare one day a week since he was four months old, and since around the time he turned one, drop-offs are painful more often than not.  But he ALWAYS has a good time there and plays with other kids, so I don't know what his problem is.

Even though I know him better than anyone but God, I struggle with knowing the right approach in parenting him.  There's no doubt he has issues with anxiety, but he's also lazy (just calling a spade a spade).  If he had his way, he'd still be in nappies and I'd still be spoon-feeding him!  I still have daily battles with getting him to do tasks I know he can do - eating, putting his shoes on etc. ("I caaaaan't do it!  It's too hard for me," is the common whine).  Due to this I swing between being too tough and unsympathetic to just doing things for him, or not forcing him to do things because I've just had enough.  There have been times where I've really done my block and regretted it afterwards.  Sometimes I feel distant from him, because I just don't know how to help him.  I know too well from personal experience at a young age that kids can be cruel.  I don't want him to have to endure what I did.  I want to help him overcome his fears NOW, so he doesn't have to face the ridicule.  At times I feel like I'm reliving my own childhood through his anxiety.  You'd think I'd be able to relate to how he feels, but sometimes I just can't.

So, today resulted in a meltdown when it came to putting on his school uniform and getting on the bus.  I thought the bus ride would be ok since his best friend was already on the bus (his best friend is going to the Catholic school unfortunately, while Rory is at the public school), but nope.  Duncan had to ride on the bus with him to calm him down.  I drove into town with Flynn and Rory's big bag of stationery and met them both at the classroom.  There were more tears when it was time to leave.

I spent the day sobbing...not because I'm one of those parents who can't let go, but because I felt so drained.  I cancelled swimming lessons for him, since I just can't deal with the way he screams throughout every lesson.  Dealing with school is enough for now.

Thankfully, he got off the bus this afternoon all smiles, and the comment from his teacher in his communication book said he'd cheered up after we left, played with other kids, did everything he was asked to do, and generally had a great day.

I'm grateful for other parents who have shared their own struggles with me.  My Facebook newsfeed has been littered with photos of happy kids in uniforms and comments from parents, such as, "Jimmy has been looking forward to school for months," or "Sally had a great day, no tears, and actually told me to leave."  It's a kick to the guts reading that and I've struggled with jealousy, raging at God about why, after everything I've been through, He has to give me difficult kids on top of that.

I love my kids more than all the hairs on all the bears, but parenting a sensitive, anxious child is just really hard work.  There are people who'll imply that you're too harsh, and others will think you're too soft, and somehow you've got to ignore them all, and figure out what's best for your child when you don't even know what that is.

Somehow we'll get through this together, my boy.

It's Just Like Riding a Bike

This phrase has always annoyed me, because riding a bike has NEVER been easy for me.  I've always suffered from poor balance and I haven't been on a bike since I was 12.  I've struggled with climbing, general clumsiness, driving a manual car (because I find it hard to co-ordinate easing my foot off the clutch and my other foot onto the accelerator at the same time), lack of co-ordination when learning particular dance moves, and my gross motor skills were quite poor as a young child.  It seems Rory has similar issues.  Only in the last few weeks I've been wondering if we both have some form of gross motor dyspraxia.

But this is the year I've decided to confront my fear of riding a bike.  I mentioned in my 5 Hopes For 2017 that I don't want to miss out anymore.  Since my brother-in-law has just bought Duncan and I new bikes as presents, now is the time to start.

Maybe one day I'll join the Ride for Compassion.

For now...baby steps.

Did you know there are classes to help adults learn to ride a bike?  It turns out I'm definitely not the only one to struggle with this.

5 Hopes For 2017

1.  Confront (and hopefully conquer) some long-held fears and phobias.  More to come in another post.
2.  Submit my novel to more publishers.
3.  Try to have regular quiet times.  I don't want to set the bar too high (it's hard to go from pretty much nothing/sporadic times to daily, so I'm aiming for 2-3 times per week, then build up).
4.  Continue to sell baby stuff and other items to raise money for Christian ministries.
5.  Adjust my weekly routine now that I'll be a kindy mum, which will include taking Flynn to playgroup on either Tuesdays or Thursdays, while Rory is at kindy.

What are your hopes for 2017?

Is 2016 Cursed?

So many people think so, mainly due to the number of celebrities who have died this year. But, in reality,  many celebrities die every year; what these people mean is that celebrities they particularly like have passed on.

Then there's been Brexit, ongoing horrors in Syria, and Donald Trump becoming the US president. Again, troubling things are constantly happening in the world. 2016 has been no exception.

For me personally, 2016 has been a horrible year. Much of what happened flowed on from 2015; while it is nice to draw a line in the sand and say a new year is a fresh start, one cannot always escape past events. This year, I have been so unwell with postnatal depression, I probably should have been hospitalised many times. I've wanted to walk away from my marriage and family, desperate to seek help in the city. Our closest mental health service is absolutely appalling. I am so glad to be rid of them.

I feel like I've achieved very little, apart from surviving. I love my little family dearly, and it devastates me that I must live with my mind and body shrouded by a dark cloud. It feels like I've spent much of 2016 struggling in my relationship with God, desperate for Him to remove this thorn from my side. But, in His kindness and mercy, we have had two wonderful live-in nannies - Jordie for seeding and Liz for harvest. If I'd been well, I'd never have had the privilege and joy of having met them.

In recent weeks I've received the news that three friends of mine are now separated from their husbands. This has affected me deeply. It seems that hearing about separation/divorce and babies dying is a big trigger for depression for me. I grieve and I pray for there to be reconciliation and change in those marriages. But I'm trying not to let it get me down.

I'm praying for a better 2017. I'm praying for Flynn to sleep, as sleep deprivation is a huge factor in my illness.

Do I think 2016 is cursed? No, but it hasn't been a good year for many people.

Bring on 2017. May it be a great adventure.

The Pendulum: Not Wishing It On Anyone, But Not Wanting To Be Alone

Having postnatal depression has been one of the toughest experiences of my life.  Sorry to use a cliche, but I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

However (and I feel kind of evil for saying this), I do sometimes wish someone else I know had it.  All of the friends I have that have/had postnatal depression, I have met through the Mother Baby Unit, or in groups dedicated to helping mothers recover from PND.  I only know of two people that I met in everyday life that have confessed to having had major PND (both before I met them).

Therefore, I feel kind of lonely.  The statistics say that one in seven mums will suffer from postnatal depression.  Either they hide it very well, or the stats just seem wrong.  Of course, many mums will admit to having had the baby blues or mild PND, but when it comes to being hospitalised and suffering majorly, I appear to be alone.  I've watched friends have babies recently and they appear to just be coasting on by.  Yes, they admit the sleep deprivation is tough, but otherwise they said they're doing well.

I don't want mums to suffer...I just don't want to feel alone.

In Light of the 'Dark Day'

Today is a year since I had the 'breakdown' that ultimately landed me in the Mother Baby Unit. Tomorrow is a year since I arrived at the MBU.

I wish I could say that everything is rosy a year on, but that would be a lie. There have been many horrible moments throughout the past year. While I'm grateful for the support I received and the friendships I made, the experience continues to highlight the vast differences between city and country, and the frustration I've felt because of where I live.

Thankfully, today was nothing like that dark day.

Slamming Doors

Since services for women with postnatal depression are minimal where I live, I've had to work so hard to build my own support network.  At times, I've felt very jealous of the support my city friends from the Mother Baby Unit receive.

Lately, it seems like every door of help has been slammed shut in my face...

My mum is not well and is therefore unable to help out at the level she used to.

Daycare are short-staffed, so they can longer take as many kids.  I'm not guaranteed of getting a place one day a week for the boys, so I can get six hours of respite.

Our search for an au pair for harvest time was becoming fruitless and frustrating.  Harvest is just weeks away.

Although I didn't want to, I was becoming increasingly angry at God.  Why was He taking away every avenue of support?  When I tried to find help, why was He slamming every door in my face?

Eventually I exploded and did a bit of door slamming of my own.  I walked out on Duncan and the boys one evening.  I drove off rather recklessly before realising I had nothing but the clothes on my back.  I sat on the side of the road in the dark and screamed and cried out to God.  Why?  Why?

Sleep deprivation makes everything worse.

Of course, I had to go back home.  I had nowhere else to go.

Maybe God was trying to teach me yet again, that where else have I to go but Him?  Maybe He wanted to break me to get me to stop trying to solve everything in my own strength, and turn to Him first in prayer?

Then...miracles.

I've been able to get a spot at daycare for the past couple of weeks, when it all seemed hopeless.
My mum was able to help out the past couple of days.
And....we might have found an au pair.

Once again, I've been humbled by our Almighty God's love and care for little me.  How nothing is impossible for Him.

My anger has been turned to repentance and thanksgiving.

God and the Little Things

It always amazes me how God loves to show kindness to His children. It shouldn't surprise me as the whole Bible is full of examples of God's love for His wayward people. Sometimes, I think I start getting a lopsided picture of God as being a disciplinarian and only caring about 'big picture' stuff. But He's also a God of the little things.

Duncan and I have lost two people who were very close to us - my Nan passed away in January 2011, and Duncan's brother was killed in a car accident two days before Christmas 1999, at only 21.

Rory was born on the 19th January 2013, on what would have been my Nan's 100th birthday. Flynn has red hair, just like his late Uncle Raymond.

In some ways it feels like God has given our loved ones back to us. Not in a reincarnation kind of way, but in little things that keep their memories alive.

I love to marvel at God's kindness in the little things.