Behind the masks...

This week I have been in various groups where I have heard of the struggles in people's lives.  This reflection is a response to that.
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I stood in the crowds rushing around the shops, I felt like my life was falling apart, the world had drastically changed, so how could everyone wander round as normal?

Then a messenger stopped and stood by my side, she began to point people out –

She is grateful for the winter, no-one questions the long sleeves that cover the bruises, and the bruises of the mind are invisible – but he is always apologetic…..

The man stopping to chat to everyone with a cheery smile is on his only trip out of the week, at home he cares for his mother who needs help 24/7 and in confusion doesn’t know him and gets frightened and angry.

That young woman is picking her way through the crowd carefully, she is terrified of talking to anyone – she feels she is barely holding her mind together, and feels overwhelmed by the most basic of things.

The messenger got quicker –

His every step is agony of pain; she is worried sick about her son; she dreads Christmas since her husband died, and the children live so far away; he lost his job in the cuts this year and the mortgage is behind; and so it went on.

The messenger turned to me and said, ‘This is the normal each one wanders around with, just as you do, and each one looks at the others in awe of how normal they all are and feeling they are alone in the crowd carrying their weight’

I wept seeing the pain hiding under every normal face and action, and for my own pain too.

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Surviving someone's emotional collapse - hints from inside

I see your confusion, the pain of looking on as your loved one crumbles from within and the cloud of chaos engulfs you all.  And then what,  where do you go from here?

Somewhere in your community, usually tucked discretely behind closed doors of course, sometime this week, someone, or lots of someones are going through this.

As one who has lived in the centre of that swirling mist, and visit it still I offer these tips -

1. Don't try to fix us - it is more than solving a jigsaw puzzle, there is no single piece you can find to make the difference.  I know that is hard to understand, and that if there was something you could do you would.  This doesn't have any quick fixes, and we are so caught up with the chaos and the chaos with us that when you try to get rid of the problem it feels like you want rid of us.  I know that is the last thing on your mind, but our thinking gets screwed up.

2. Don't keep asking how we feel, or if we are alright - we all know that things are not ok, we don't need to always talk about it.  And when you ask how we are feeling it can be like the hardest question in an exam, we are often not sure ourselves, at least not in ways we can put words to. And even if we could then we are anxious about saying it out loud - will the raw mess of it scare you, or hurt you?  We see you on the eggshells, and want to reassure you, to find some way of protecting you - so every time you ask how we feel there is so much to work out and it is exhausting.

3. Don't be afraid of being normal with us - we are more than our illness, pretending the elephants aren't in the room is not an option but that doesn't mean they have to be the only thing in the room. We won't be up to mad parties, but we need to be reminded of the variety of who we are.  Without trying to fix us  just talk to us the way you normally would, of football, computers, telly, whatever. We need to hold onto to the normal things whilst the rest spin us dizzy.  And it's good for you too.

4. Pack for a long journey, remembering all you will need too - this is a marathon not a sprint, and one none of us trained or planned for. So take the pace carefully, get all the support you can - we need you, so need you to love and care for yourselves.  We are not well enough to help you, so you will need others, friends, family, professionals - don't be afraid to ask for the help you need.

And there are lights out there, some along the way, and even those at the end of the tunnel. And others are on the path too.  Sometimes we may stop and sit for a bit, sometimes we may seem to double back, that's all ok, all normal - as long as we are together we can cope and hope.

And thank you for being there, and for trying, and most of all for loving us at our messiest.

When I needed a neighbour were you there?

So goes the school hymn, and goes through a range of situations  asking 'were you there?'  'And the creed and the colour and the name don't matter were you there?' comes the chorus.

This comes to mind with an email today from someone about a church member they have visited today, reporting that this person, unable to get out of the house, is disappointed that I haven't been round.

It is not an unreasonable request, after some time in convalescence care beyond our patch she has been home for a couple of weeks now. And it would be just half an hour, to show she is remembered.  'Were you there?'

These are the moments when I feel such a failure as a minister, and as I type my eyes are leaking.  But she and the others I constantly let down don't see that, they don't know about the moments when I am about to phone but realise it is too late, or any other good intentions.

Yes it is true that pastoral visiting is not just for me, and I know of those who are calling on people. And I know that my list of reasons why I didn't get there all this week despite planning to - including depressive fatigued duvet days - are valid and not just the lame excuses I think they sound to others.

But ...  I am not naturally a pastoral visiting person, and I know this is my weakest point. It is the thing I would have top of my 'drop list' when time and energy are squeezed. And because of that it is also where my conscience is most vulnerable to criticism, because it lands on my own self criticisms so it is a double whammy right where I have least objectivity and perspective.

I will visit, and she will get over her disappointment that it has taken so long, and the sun will rise and set and the days go on.  And when I am not tired from having been out all day for last 3 days I will not get weepy over a 'just so you know' email.

For now, it is a stiff drink and bed. Tomorrow is another day.

Labels...

'My name's Helen and I'm.....'

Fill in the gap according to context - single, minister, Gabi's owner, late, lost, depressive ....

Labels are useful, it is a shortcut to what you need to know, or have others know about you. Yes  I am /am not the person you need to speak to. This and not that is why I am here talking to you.

They can be affirming - 'My name's Helen and I'm ordained'
After years of delays, and illness, and times when I thought it would never happen it was a good feeling to reach that point.

They can be releasing - 'My name's Helen and I'm a depressive'
I remember when months after my breakdown 5 yrs ago and finally at the doctors for help someone officially wrote the D word.  I came home strangely happy to have the label, 'I'm not loosing it I'm depressed'  - I wanted to to tell everyone about it.  Oddly looking back over journals of the time, even months before 'crash day' I was referring to being in a depression, and to previous years when similar had happened.  So why it was so significant the day the doctor used I don't know, but it was like a release, permission to declare I was ill person, rather than a failed human.

For others though a diagnostic label is something to be feared within mental health. Conditions are not as neatly measurable as many aspects of physical health are, people are moved between diagnoses as the experts try to work out which label fits best.  And people don't fit in neat boxes - mental health diagnoses have a habit of ending up as x with a hint of y and aspects of a and b - we are all on a spectrum. Well lots of them really - multi dimensional axes covering the many aspects of life.  But labels put us into categories, and categories can divide.  Labels can feed stigma and discrimination.  How many sick notes sent to workplaces have referred vaguely to 'stress' rather than depression to avoid the official label going on file?

Yet, I recall from biology days how important classification is in trying to understand - seeing what is similar between some things and different from others.  And as I am exploring aspects of my depression that might give me an added 'hint of' label that is how I see it.  I won't have changed, treatment probably won't, but the label would help me understand myself better and maybe cope with the ebb and flow of depressive life.

 

   

Compare the (ministerial) market - self doubt

I can handle being minister of little churches in rural communities, I like the fact that I can be a significant fish in a limited sized pond. (I remember that image being used for the speech as we left primary school – that we were going from being the big fish in a small pond to be the small fish in a bigger pond).  That is not meant in a pride or power way, but it does open doors of opportunity and a chance to engage even though I am not really a big fish.

Sometimes when I meet with other ministers in different situations, overseeing big church sites with major social projects and employees, I feel inferior. I am so far from the ability to handle and be what they need to be, and yet technically we are considered the same. We receive the same stipend, and at this time of year when a proportion of the Methodist ministers in Britain await the proposed matches from stationing (our sending process linking those due to move with circuits/churches with vacancies) I am aware ministers are essentially considered equal in the process, although as individuals.

Next year it could be me in the stationing merry go round – what if I were asked to do the sort of role some of my colleagues face in those big churches, and community projects?  I couldn't do it, and so when I hear about their experiences and issues I feel a failure as a minister because I couldn't do what would be asked of me in their place. In my head I know that is the voice of insecurity and the aggressive voice of depression – but the emotions are the same even though I know all that.

I am left feeling that I have an easy life with my group of churches, not that rural ministry and mission is a doddle, but compared to colleagues with many more churches, or the big scary project churches, it feels me-sized.  It is just that me-sized feels inadequate.  I am sure that they wouldn't ask me to do and be what I can’t – and not even due for a shuffle yet – but still feel inferior compared to others.

This was typed yesterday, today a chat with a friend also in the job, and also prone to the ‘useless’ voices from depression reminded both of us that we fit where we are.  Doesn't fully quash the doubts but makes them manageable.

Home alone - or dragged around?

I have been concerned around leaving Gabi the dog home alone - my comings and goings don't fit any regular rhythm for her to learn when to expect me home, when I will be out for an hour or for 4 hours. Sometimes I don't know myself.  When I am home she still tends to lie around not doing much - does she need stimulation? Is she worried when home alone? It is the only time she does things she knows I don't approve of - taking things from the kitchen worktops etc. Is it a protest action?

So I have been taking her with me when I can, especially for the longer days - but sitting around whilst I am painting in the church hall, or through church councils, or having lots of attention for being cute and lovely at the church hall celebration.  Is this more stressful for her? Unpredictable places, sometimes crowds, sometimes confined to a smaller space than she would at home.

Which is best for her?

And separation anxiety - when out with me people say how she is concerned when I disappear into another room or back to car etc, is that because it is not home? Or does she feel like that at home too- hence the food stealing protests?  And yet when I am around she just lies down or sleeps near but its not like she is on my lap (that would be a challenge) or snuggled up close.  And when out for a walk and let off the lead to explore the common or the woodland she doesn't look back or even respond to my voice - yes a training issue, 'bye bye Gabi' is quite effective for getting her to come back to me though.

So how to be a good Doggy Mummy??

Full of seeds from a woodland run

Celebrating the dream - church hall changes unveiled

Some days in this job are a joy - and Saturday was one of those moments. At my first church council at Cleobury when I arrived just over 4 years ago people were downcast about an under used hall with several thousand pounds of maintenance needed - was spending what we don't have on a hall that is not used justified? Over the years a link with the local youth project (born out the parish church but run independently now) and welcoming them into the hall opened doors for funding to cover the vital maintenance to the roof and windows.  Then fundraising and another grant replaced the fraying grey carpet with years of spills with part carpet tiles and a non-slip 'messy friendly' section.  We were happy with that.

Electricity is the biggest running cost - being off the gas network, and not used enough for storage heaters, the on-demand electric heating is pricey. But the church site, and the angles of the hall roof might have been designed for solar panels.  And so I suggested, nudged, encouraged the congregation and they agreed to their minister's mad idea and amid conversations where they decided that there was a long term future for the church being there despite limited numbers at the moment voted to take out loans to install solar PV.

No cats harmed by being swung here!

The original entrance and kitchen

Avoiding grants for that work we have loans with a pay back time half of the break even date for the panels, so have a challenging fundraising target beyond running costs every year.  Not a time to consider any more projects for a while - then the email arrived, would we let the local housing association renew our kitchen in support of the youth project's work?  Who says no to a new kitchen? After a year of paperwork and planning South Shropshire Housing Association sent a team in to not just provide new kitchen units but to build new walls as we enlarged the kitchen into a workable space.  All in aid of developing a regular youth drop in - The Hub, but with benefits for all hall users and possible future mission and community use.

A kitchen is one thing but the old cooker wouldn't suit the new finish and so it was back to funders for support for the church and the youth project for kitting out the kitchen, cafe seating, pool table, changes to lighting and an integrated speaker system (the youth leader is a trained electrician so knew what he wanted and the contacts for deals, as well as spending a lot of time in the very low loft cavity putting them in!)

After a late summer of building work, and the slow process of volunteer painting the finished look was unveiled to the community on Saturday 2nd Nov, and The Hub officially launched.  The usual youth nights being added to with 3 after school sessions, one with homework support. The youth leader also works with the local school and there will be integrated referral and support.

Now the next step for us as the church is to sift through the cloud of ideas about how to use the shiny new kitchen and the refreshed hall when it is not needed for The Hub in creative ways with other christians in the town to serve our community and share God's love.

Saturday though was simply a day of celebration (the left over tweaks forgotten for the day) and I caught a few pictures when I arrived first before the crowds arrived and I was too busy for photography!

Yes, a good day - a dream reaching reality, and now the real work begins!

The fog

The numbness gathers like a fog, slowly, imperceptibly at first. No sudden changes that might attract attention, but a gradual chill that creeps and curls, swirling around limbs, heart, mind.  Coiling around in thin strands, then thickening, tightening, until there is nothing but the clammy numbing coldness.  Strange how numbness has its own ache.

Yes, I'm overtired and my mood has crashed, been really low all day. Retreating under duvet, it is bedtime anyway, taken couple hours doing this with no concentration span.

Gabi speaks....

I know, I am usually quiet, not even barking at the doorbell, but this is my chance to say my bit.  My human is tired and dozing on the sofa after a busy Bell Day.  I call it that because it is the day that has lots of bells, sometimes I join in but my human seems worried about that.


Anyway this Bell Day she didn't leave me to the garden but took me out with her. I was enthusiastic until I realised it was a ride in the car, but it wasn't too long and then we had a walk across the playing fields from the village hall to the big bell church.  It was different to the cosy chapels I have been in before and I felt a bit awkward because I was on the short lead and not free to check the place out to be sure it was ok.  People stand up but don't go anywhere - very strange, but I have seen it before, usually they are singing but today they stood without singing, and they wandered about a few times - at the beginning with lots of food, then shaking hands (and a few remembered to say hello to me) then they all queued up to go to the far end. My lead didn't allow me to find out why.


The walk back to the village hall was fun, lots of new smells, and then there was food - I did try to encourage people to give me a bit but it wasn't a great success, despite my human having stood up in church and told them about sharing the harvest.


Then back to the car for ages and ages, and another new place. My human left bags in the chapel and we went for a bit of a walk before she started taking to people again - but not as long a walk as she promised having missed a signpost and going the wrong way for ages. 


It was another place where the people had left their food everywhere - but frustratingly it was all things I don't like to eat!  So I just found the carpet (why only in the middle of the chapel?) and lay down to sleep - once you hear my human talking once it is enough!


Lots of people said hello to me but didn't have any food :-(  We got back in the car but on the way home stopped at a place with lots of trees and paths through them to explore. Lots of other dogs too - and at one point I met a springer without a lead and didn't get stressed about it - we just said hello and then each got on with exploring the exciting new smells.  My human got very happy about that, and I was quite proud too.  I do get worried about other dogs and whether they are going to bully me, but I am trying to be braver.


As a day - well being a church dog I think the term I need is 'a curate's egg', good in parts.  I don't like being in the car lots, and church is quite boring, but I did get to walk in new places and sniff lots of new smells which is good.


Gabi

on sermons and study

Recently the preacher coming to one of my churches sent me a copy of his sermon (I had asked the preachers to follow a particular set of themes for this church). The same weekend a good friend blogged her sermon on the set readings for the week. As someone who couldn't give you even notes for sermons I have given this makes me feel bad. 

My sermons are products of the deep unconscious processing - brewing - of the week before, and yet I don't spend hours or a day in the study in preparation, and I don't have detailed notes or scripts to show before the event. On the other hand the sermons are cooking throughout the week even if I am not tied to the study desk. And at the start of a new quarter, like now, I make a grid of the lectionary readings and their themes alongside where I will be preaching and I am aware of the cogs beginning to turn from then. 

So are my offerings less? Well it could be seen that way, and I'm sure my sermons could be better for hours of focussed planning and research. But people seem happy with what I offer, maybe the input of  theological studies mean that somehow I have useful insights that ooze out regardless of time spent. Or does that sound too arrogant?

Generally my background brewed sermons that find sentence construction only when faced with the eyeballs of listeners and their reactions seem to meet the needs of the congregations I serve. Yes I could produce better quality, deep and meaningful sermons if I spent hours in the study, but what other things do I set aside to have that time?

I live with limits of energy, others have their reasons too - the ideal may be to study for hours, but ministry is more than sunday, and more than my sermon.

Pain, whinging and life

This week I have been ill. Not the total fatigue with leaden aching muscles and foggy head, nor even the emotional inner agonies and pain (did you know the brain uses the same processes as when physical pain?) - I have experience with them and know their tactics and have some of my own. They are not companions I rejoice in but are like that annoying relative who calls often enough for you to know the tricks about how to cope.

No this was a new one on me - massive nausea. Of course I have known nausea before, but never to this extent, for such a prolonged time and uneased by being sick.  I know what it means to be 'beside yourself', unable to find any relief I was metaphorically climbing the walls.  I was wimping and whining about it - and being home alone that poured out on facebook instead.  Thank you to those who listened, replied and either gave tips or merely reminded me that I was not alone.  (Personally I favour the flat coke to the ginger infusion, but that's just my tastebuds). And to Sally - Gabi's walking friend.

It turns out that although it might have been a bug the lack of anything but the nausea suggests that it was the missed anti-depressants. I had thought I had another strip of tablets and when found I didn't it was the weekend so had to wait before getting a new prescription.  I have survived that before with no drama, but on different meds this time, with quick withdrawal effects - top of the list being nausea!  I have now set phone reminder and diary note to order future repeats in good time, no intention of facing this again!

Meanwhile now on the meds and nausea gone I am noticing the pain of the shoulder/neck muscles I managed to pull whilst trying to sleep sat up.  It actually hurts a lot and clearly enflamed, can barely turn neck on one side.  With the nausea I barely noticed the neck as sore, now it is the only complainer I can hear it loud and clear.  It is a deep pain and permanent ache, in its own way as strong as the nausea - yet I can tolerate it and I can manage to do things. Well I can think and type anyway.  So what is the difference? I have had pulled muscles, I know it will ease, and its a typical steady aching pain.

Some people live with pain day and night without relief, some people face intense nausea on a regular basis. Somehow they cope, survive, and manage to get on with life moving among us disguised as one of the fit.  Just as indeed do those with depression and mental health concerns.

Adapting to live with pain doesn't mean the pain isn't as real as when rolling on the floor in response to it, and as this week has shown - knowing how to live with one type doesn't grant any extra tolerance to different kinds of pain when they come along.  We all have things that will turn us to wimps, just as we are all incredible strong in other areas of our lives.

Teenage Exorcists - BBC3

There is a certain type of programme that I find myself attracted to whilst repulsed by it.  Tonight's BBC3 programme 'Teenage Exorcists' is one of them. 3 young American girls in Buffy style attacks on the work of Satan encouraged by the father of one of them who has a long history of work in this area.

Their approach to exorcism is to provoke a response, insist demons name themselves and how they got there, generational rights etc and it seems it requires a lot of shouting and the waving around of silver crosses or Bibles. All this in the highly staged and hyped expectation of action.

Now I am not going to get into the seeing demons under every stone but there is a pastoral issue,

There was story of the young woman convinced she is under a curse, and that conviction being dismissed by her local church she had watched clips of these folk on youtube and saw them as the only answer - but when she met them for a private session was disappointed to find that the threats to the demons caused no response in her. Nor did she react at the public meeting later, despite being assured that if the words were spoken then curse had been broken, the lack of what she considered the proper response in her made her go away convinced it had not worked.

Then the former chaplain whose ME type symptoms she saw as a spiritual attack -  she 'manifested' in the meeting and had the full casting out treatment.  She left convinced that she had been exorcised of her demon, and went into the future with a new confidence, and restful sleep. The reporter referred to catharsis.

How would I or my churches respond had either of them come to us for help?

When I began as a minster before any baptism or even a funeral I was asked to help someone who was anxious and disturbed by a sense of a presence in their home. Calling on a colleague we visited, listened and prayed through the house followed by communion.

No hype, but no dismissal of a person's concerns either.  I am open to the possibility of spirits interfering in our world, but believe in a God who is bigger and doesn't need a stage show or silver crosses to make a difference.  But for the other 99.999999% of the time I want to take someone seriously, hear the anxiety and pray it through whatever the cause.

Is it spiritual healing, therapy at being acknowledged and taken seriously or the placebo effect? I believe during my years of being a minister there will be cases of all 3 or any mixture between them.

And then there are times when someone should be referred to medical support - how do we help someone to accept that suggestion without dismissing what for them is real nor colluding with their interpretation when it needs to be challenged?

How do we care for the agitated soul?

The power of storytelling ...

Last Sunday we welcomed a new superintendent minister to our oversized circuit, as the senior minister there to support us, encourage us and when necessary chivvy us along his first week has included a whistle stop tour to the 3 areas to meet the staff teams.  Friday was our turn here in the south area and so we gathered at Ludlow for this meeting about meeting.

With no business to deal with, other meetings booked for that, it was a time where the new boss told us some of his background, his story. Then we each offered what we chose to of our stories. Stories we may have had hints of or snippets, but which we hadn't ever sat and shared together before.  It wasn't a planned teambuilding activity just the way the conversation evolved, but it was one of the best team meetings I have been in. We emerged closer to one another, knowing something of each others journeys, struggles and high points, and even finding high points in the midst of the struggles - and glimpses of God.  It left me feeling very positive about the year ahead and our work together.

Meanwhile along with all other Methodist ministers I have received the request to tell other stories, stories about difficult times we have known of, that the church may face her past, deal with unanswered wrongs and learn to be better in protecting the vulnerable.  The Past Cases Review is gathering into one place knowledge and memories of safeguarding issues across the country and across the years. Stories that may not have been spoken aloud before, stories that may have been silenced in the past, stories that need to be heard; but also the reopening of stories that people had laid down to move onto new stories of hope and life.

This will be a difficult time for many, but storytelling is powerful. It can break down barriers making strangers into friends, it can bring truth and light where it is needed, it can set prisoners free.  But it is risky, it is the opposite of hiding behind armour and shields, it is daring to lay bare our souls - in small ways and big ways depending on the tale to tell.

Tomorrow the reading in church is the letter from Paul to Philemon - a letter about risk taking.  These were days of slaves and masters, a runaway slave was lost property, and if recaptured was due punishment for fleeing. Paul sends the runaway Onesimus back to his owner, but pleads for forgiveness for his, in the legal terms of the time, crime. Paul was asking a lot of Philemon, but it was Onesimus that was taking the risk - his story was laid bare, and how others reacted was out of his control, he had only to trust in Paul's telling of the story, his story, Paul's own, Philemon's and that of Christ.

Storytelling - powerful and vulnerable, risky but potentially world changing.

Think of those who are being asked for stories in the Past Cases Review, and for those entrusted with holding the stories and responding to them.

To what am I called? Called to be....

I have been intending to get back to here for a while, life has been busy.  Summer events at churches, demolition and rebuild of a kitchen at one of them! Don't worry the professionals were involved so the new wall will stay up - but we are painting ourselves....   Then family visiting and wonder of wonders - I have excavated the archaeological site known as my office/study.  Many things were unearthed on the journey to find the floor and locate the desk.  I am now attempting to keep the clutter down by actually using it, rather than the rest of the house, so the chair can't be a dump zone as sitting on it etc.

From spending more time there I have rediscovered this piece stuck to the noticeboard. I wrote it back when I was in college training to be a minister, but during the difficult and painful year after my breakdown when trying to find if I could still be a minister, as far as God and the church were concerned and if so what kind of minister would I be whilst wrestling with depression.

I think it speaks to others in ministry too, of all kinds, and also to other roles of life with a change of a few words.

Calling

To what am I called?

    Called to be a minister

    Not to do ministry - though I will

In a hectic, speeding, work hard, play hard world

Called to be the stillness

To show another rhythm

Making God spaces.

To what am I called?

    Called to be a disciple

    Not to do churchy stuff - though I will

In a world that wants all the answers and wants them now

Called to be on a journey

            Following and learning

Step by step

To what am I called?

    Called to be - simply be

    I am not what I do - though I do much.

Whatever the world may expect or demand of me

Called to be who I am

In weakness and strength

In giving and receiving

I am God’s

H Roberts, May 2008,

‘Uncomfortable Presence’ conference on impairment in church life,

Sarum college, Salisbury

What others have to say - Depression, healing, and pull your self together

There is a bubble of this kind of conversation across the web the past couple of days -

On Ship of Fools there is a discussion on Blog and the kind of attitudes the writer has had to face. I deeply admired her grace in writing to the church leadership and, allowing for the possibility that they may not have intended the harm, to explain it.  The response was horrifying - we meant that, and you should be alright with it, I had problems to and pulling myself through with prayer worked so it must do for everyone.  Forget being vulnerable during any healing time, and certainly not long term, full exposure to jolly happy faith is what you need.

On the other side, theologically and practically, is not the magic healing but the insistence that you don't have a problem in the first place. As espoused by Giles Fraser - yes we need to tackle the underlying sources of stress, and injustice and zero hours contracts and bedroom tax and.... BUT that doesn't mean that depression doesn't exist.  Yes and some of us take pills, I don't take pills to make me happy or hide from the stresses - I take them to enable me to cope, and when there are stresses I can manage, but actually even without the stress I need them to manage in my plodding way.

It is important not to label the wide range of normal life as abnormal or ill, and so Giles I do get some of what you are trying to say - but there are a lot of us who are far from your category of those  'for whom happiness can be reclaimed by doing a bit more exercise or being more sociable'.  In the depths of depression both of these are about as accessible as Mount Everest with out oxygen, tents or those ice grabbling things.

There is a response to Giles Fraser here - highlighting the distinctions.

But despite the pull yourself together, nothing is wrong on one side, and the pray and it will all go away on the other, in the middle are churches and Christians who care and love. Sometimes struggling and say or do the wrong thing but open to being helped to be better helpers. And in the middle there are people who live it, who know it, and between us and with God's help try to hold each other up.

Healing and Wellness.... (part 2)

Meanwhile, aside from my personal questions about healing and reaction to something that seemed too formulaic, and away from our local aims, I have in the past couple of days encountered some scary current teaching about sickness and healing in parts of the charismatic churches.

Yes I know that some will note this as about as newsworthy as the proverbial bears in the wood (though the pendant in me recognising that over here that would indeed be 'a great surprise') but I still found these cases shocking.

It is common among those Christians who believe God dramatically heals on a very frequent basis today to encourage people to be prayed for in events and services, often in a highly charged atmosphere of expectation.  Miracle reports can fly about easily, but without the means to check the real story - like most of the internet and press!  People can leave hurt if healing does not occur as the implication is that God wants to heal them so if it doesn't happen then something is getting in the way - maybe they don't have enough faith etc.

These days I have had the impression that such implications are implicit and many groups and leaders are keen to distance themselves from that whilst still praying for and expecting healings, also keen to encourage people to stay on medications until a doctor says so.

There is a tent mission going on this week not far from me but just out of my patch so I was googling to find out more, who was behind it, which churches, what was going on etc.  In doing so I landed on the website of one of the key supporting churches and because I like background input but not music, and being curious, I played one of the recent sermon podcasts. The title said it was about communion, and I wondered what that style of church had to say compared to my more liturgical siblings.  It didn't really catch my attention and was just background until near the end when (and I replayed a couple of times to check I had heard right) the preacher stated that whilst not all sickness is caused by lack of repentance a lot is, and if we really repented before coming to communion, and stopped being divided two ways between God and the world then those sicknesses would disappear.

So the bit in the Bible about not coming to communion unworthily or you will bring judgement on yourself is being taken as literal sickness as God's punishment??  And this is being offered as the true word, how many in that congregation will have gone home wondering what they have done that they or a loved one is sick?

Then this morning a mention of one of these Christian festivals but one I hadn't heard of, so back to the websearch, and on their website a video clip about 'How to pray for healing' in which the male speaker suggests it is not God's sovereignty but as the body is made up of the dust of the earth and God gave humans charge over that it is not about asking God to heal but ordering the body stop causing pain and work as it should. Though sometimes it might take lots of telling. 

I know these ideas are out there and not new, I know the damage they can cause, I do believe God can heal today and that sometimes that is in a dramatic way.  I don't know why one and not another, even in Jesus' day there were others around the pool on the day he asked the man if he wanted to be healed, no reference to their healings.

When I spend time with church people who have forgotten to look outwards, or that being church is about inviting people to meet God rather than a nice club, I want to be able to celebrate the churches that are speaking about the gospel, but these clips are part of what makes me nervous and feel unable to cheer them on.  Not because I always have it right, nor my churches, or denomination - but .... something in my gut chokes the cheer because life is so much messier and greyer.

Healing and wellness.... (Part 1)

It's been a while, life has been so massively busy - church anniversaries, dog show and pet services, fetes and shows, and demolishing a church kitchen!

Now a couple of days off, time to draw breath.

I feel I ought to follow up from this post.  I did go through the emotional engagement that the counsellor wanted me to, and I think it was helpful in that space and time, but as my depression had already subsided it is hard to assess for any effects.  You can't test the roof patch until the next storm to see if it leaks again or not.

It maybe part of not fully feeling comfortable with my particular counsellor, but I felt that the process was regarded as a fix all. That having completed it in an acceptable way my depression will be all but gone and as I go into next winter when it usually flares up it won't and I will be seeing the doctor to wean off meds.  Ok she acknowledged a time lag as I adjust to what happened in the process but essentially it was all guaranteed as a logical progression.  I have had my last session with her, though she spent half the time explaining why I should go back during the adjustment time.

What is healing? or wellness for that matter?

I am part of a group trying to get something together in our rural town about support for mental health but also in a proactive way building people up to better cope with the stresses that come. As a community group we got a free stall at the local Agricultural Show last Saturday - and we needed to find a name and the working title we are running with is the Wellness Group.  We didn't have any events to plug yet but I took 170 odd mini grey cakes and resources from Time to Change and local carer support.  It was a very long day and we found some great people who are willing to help us and come with specialised skills, so very much worth it.

I sat with others involved at the start of the day and we tried to decide what Wellness meant to us in terms of the group.  Images around 'freedom to be', 'at ease', 'supported' were our conclusions, ideas that can go alongside and in despite of problems, stresses, health concerns etc rather than images of the absence of them.  It can be the removal of the unnecessary burdens that land on top of the core issue, and if the core problem can be relieved and removed then wonderful, but in a world where that is so often not the case then there can still be ways to reach towards wellness, to celebrate wholeness. 

Going grey on page 3!

Social media gets a lot of flak but it allows for sharing of ideas and the Depressed Cake Shop is one of those ideas that is growing like Topsy.

On the first weekend in August (or other convenient times in some places) watch out for a new pop-up cake shop, the same yummy mix of cakes but with one thing in common (well apart from calories) - the colour grey.

The brain child of Miss Cakehead it is all intended to raise the profile of mental health issues and the lives of those affected, to break through the silence that harbours the stigmas that get in the way of people asking for help.  The grey portraying the dull and negative feelings around depression and other conditions, but many of the cakes will be brightly coloured and full of flavour inside - the reality of hope, and the person beyond the clouds of depression. Profits from the shops going to locally chosen mental health support charities.

It started off focussed around the UK but people from around the world have now captured the idea and shops go from California to Kuala Lumpa with volunteer bakers both amateur and professional.

 Now I am not a great baker, but I know a good visual aid when I see one so with a stand at the High School fete approaching, already provided with Time to Change resources, I joined the ranks of those mixing up grey icing. Ok so mine was going on shop brought cupcakes and biscuits, but I planned on giving them away not charging so I think I got away with it. 

It was a really good opener for conversation - instead of 'have a leaflet' it was 'would you like a free cake' and then a reaction or comment about the greyness led on to why and the wider issue of mental health support within the community.

And it got me, the cakes and the whole issue onto page 3 of the local paper... (not the best look after an hour or two of stifling heat!)

With others trying to find ways to support people in our community we will be popping up again on Aug 3rd at Tenbury Countryside Show.

Do you want to be well?

Last month at the Bible study group on John's gospel we reached the section where Jesus visits a gathering place of the ill and infirm and asks one of them if he wanted to be well.

This question came back to me this week at my counselling session. A roleplaying way of releasing the emotions from the school bullying which is the root of my emotional self doubt and fears was suggested as 'treatment' from next week. Being in a Christian context faith and forgiveness would be drawn into it too.

My reaction was not good, the confidence the counsellor has in this being a way to free me from the emotional burdens felt simplistic to me. I know that the insight about how it affects my thinking has enabled me to challenge the bad self talk, I don't mentally leap to ideas about being a failure, useless etc I mentally know better. However the emotions still go through the cycle. That is partly why I was hesitant about more talking therapy being any use especially if based on Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, training my mind I felt was not likely to add any tricks to deal with the emotional reflexes.

This proposal of my counsellor feels uncomfortable, is this the reaction to a challenging request, to the thought of putting myself back in time emotionally? Or is it my sense that the concept feels too straightforward to be real?

Jesus asked the man if he wanted to be healed, he didn't rush with an enthusiastic yes but tried to explain why he hadn't got to the healing waters in the past 30 odd years.  Jesus told him to stand, pick up his bed and walk. Just get up, so simple and yet so difficult, to believe enough to try, to move those muscles withered by unused for many years...  'Do you want to get well?'

Do I want to get well? In the midst of the darkness and lows yes of course I want to break free, but in the better days, when depression is just a light limp it feels so much part of me, like shoes that have formed around your foot from regular wear. Do I want to be well? Do I want to wipe out a part of who I am?

Not sure yet what my response will be at next week's session with the counsellor, do I dare to do this in the hope it will take away the times of pain, doubt it will have such impact anyway, or decide that whilst I am happy to get emotions better managed I am not yet ready to let go of this part of my identity - maybe out of fear of what, if any, identities might be left afterwards.

Ordination Sunday - a year on

This weekend I was in the big city, and this time I don't mean Kiddy!  All the way to London and back, the national Methodist Conference is there this year and I had a ticket for the ordination services. The main Conference worship at Westminster Central Hall was brilliant. Opening with a young girl guiding us in a chant of the opening of John's gospel (In the beginning was the word) that others led into a cascade around the great hall. The later drama on the chapter was excellent quality but a bit overlong.

Conference worship can be played here - only seems to be working on Chrome

 

The dramatic retelling of Moses aka the 'Father of freedom' talking to God aka 'the Great I Am' was very meaningful to me and made me reflect on what seeing God's back but not his face might mean in practice. Now don't try logic with this next bit, I know it doesn't work, but these were my thoughts in the service. We see God's back as we follow, we see where God has been as he has passed by us, but we don't  see where he is going to be next. We try to predict but instead we should follow, not for us to dash along trying to get alongside or ahead of God. Let him lead the way.

 

That was a service that inspired and refreshed me. The ordinands were gathered and received into 'full connexion' with the Methodist Church. (That is they and the Church signed the dotted line with each other, ordination later in the day being to the worldwide Church) worship was creative and used the space well. The evening ordination service was another matter.

 

This is always a more formal affair with set order and hymns year by year but there was an additional formality at Wesley's Chapel. I am definitely more for the informal approach. The presider was someone who I know can be informal, I once renamed him in an embarrassing, to me, incident at college worship. However he is old school and in a long service rattled through the communion prayer with little action or inflection. It takes time and logistics to serve a full place but we could have waited for the last few and for the remaining bread and wine to be returned to the table before finishing.

 

The ordinations themselves were moving and strange to watch when I have been there myself. And the sermon was better and more memorable than at my ordination last year. Ministry may leave us bewitched, bothered, and bewildered in many ways but the promise is always Jesus saying 'Peace be with you'.

 

We were due to have been in London last year but were diverted to Cornwall. It may not have been at the grand prestigious venues but my ordination was in the heart of a local Methodist community who unused to hosting  such things pushed the boat out in welcome. It was a shared celebration. Given the choice I will always chose people over place, and not just because they gave a better  'do' though they did!!

(Ps written on the train with my new toy tablet and sync'd to the computer to post #emerginginto geekdom)

Taming the lions....

Two years ago, back in the infancy of this blog I wrote about being invited to speak to 100 year 10 students from the local high school – beforehand reflecting on Teen Angst, and afterwards in Before the lions.  Well after that terrifying walk into the lion’s den of my old fears personified in the crowded room of teenagers I was a gibbering wreck but glad to have faced it and got it over.

I was invited back last year and it wasn’t so bad, today I hiked with them again (well this year’s yr 10s anyway). Two years of journeying, including some scary Friday night’s at youth club, and now for the 3^rd time of asking I could stand in front of them without shaking, still a bit shaky in finding a starting point, but able to speak and my struggles with bulling at school, the depression, the importance of loving yourself and with resources from Time to Change challenged to stand against stigma and be open to talking about mental health and other tough stuff.

Gabi, my big fluffy dog coming along for the exercise helped break the ice and opened conversations too. It was clear that people were listening and affected by what I shared, both teens and staff. Talking about things that are so personal and touch deep vulnerable bits of you is tough, and for the third time round it is in some ways less scary – I know the audience won’t bite – but in other ways still as hard. 

Yet the power of the personal story is immense, beyond any statistics or flashy adverts, the story of an ordinary person reaches parts nothing else can. Which is why breaking the silence so we can talk to each other, daring to ask for help and daring to try and understand and support each other, is such an important goal.

Lies, Lies, Dying from the lies

I am Angry!!

Angry at the lies we tell, the lies we have told in the past, and the way they still apply today. Which lies? Well admittedly there may be a whole range of them and I am not attempting to take on them all, but the lies that have got me angry are those that get in the way of our mental wellbeing.

As a child I was told, or absorbed somehow, I can’t remember not knowing it, the great lie of childhood bullying ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never harm me’. It may have been intended as a putdown to bullies, a ‘you can’t get me’ claim, but for me it became a reason why my suffering, the fact I cannot remember school before the name calling that continued until I left at 18, was not worth making a fuss about. Why I should be grateful that it was names not physical wounding – yet the words seep in the cracks of who you are, they leak into the roots of your emerging identity, and can wound deep and for longer.

As a girl and now a woman I was saved from the other insidious, deathly lie – ‘Big boys don’t cry’.  Women are the majority among those receiving treatment for depression and other mental health issues, but men are the most likely to take their own lives.  Why? Because ‘big boys don’t cry’ – women can admit to their emotions but generations of men have been brought up to face it all with a stiff upper lip, and the shame of seeking help is greater so they bottle it up until the risk of it exploding in one lethal moment is huge.

Why is my anger riled today particularly? Well I am returning to counselling for support about the long shadows in my life. But mostly because today we farewelled and  buried someone who lived in anguish for decades after the death of the two men in her life, her brother and her father, due to suicidal depression. In an era when the pain wasn’t acknowledged, when men weren’t encouraged to seek support, when ‘big boys don’t cry’ wounds were left unbound, open sores to get infected with terminal depression.  Could things have been different? Could the life story, the family story we remembered today have been different?

How many lives have been lost to the lies, to the stigma?  And how many lives left behind have been torn apart because of the lies our society tells about emotional wounds, about so called weakness.

That is why campaigns such as Time to change are so important, that is why next Friday I will be taking the opportunity to speak to 100 14/15yr olds about the lies, and why talking about mental health is important. We wouldn’t ignore a heart attack, so why should we fear asking for help with a broken heart or spirit?

A 'comeback' day

So today is a good comeback day, it began waking up from one of those really vivid, as tiring as if you have worked all night, confusing dreams – this involved sorting out random furniture in a church hall, with the WI, drama society and general chaos and politics! I still need to get to stage 2 of sorting out my own space first thank you!

Tired I fed the dog opened the garden door and returned back to bed until nearly 2pm.



Bribery to get a photo...



It got better after that, as my day off, and knowing she will be short changed the next couple of days with a full diary, I decided to head off to nearby National Trust place and use my season ticket to go for a long walk around the grounds. We got back from that and I managed to strim a bit more of the meadow that is my back garden, then Gabi let me groom her without needing a lead to confine her.  It was funny to watch her indecision about running away from me, or coming towards me, ... 'lets head that way, no I will, well maybe, yes, no, ohhh, ok I will go to her'!  We then had dinner and mine was real food made from actual vegetables!  A very nice veggie curry with portions for another couple of days.

At the National Trust place I finally brought the kind of local map that shows the footpaths so Gabi and I can explore more places. I am not confident enough to see a footpath sign at the road and feel that I can head across a field and somehow work out where it goes from there, I don’t want to end up where I don’t have public right of way and get all anxious and embarrassed. So now I can look up some  variety of walks and she can get used to the car being a way to get to some good times.



With a branch wider than most tree trunks this has been around a while!!



Part of me feels ready to face a bit more garden, but I am controlling it – lessons from my bad fatigue days, when recovering only use 75% or less of what you feel up to, so you have some saved for the new day.  It is tempting to get as much as possible done on a good day, but better to still be able to do some the day after. So I will add some pics from today, (taking note from the tree, slow and steady wins the long haul) and head to bed... Nos da.

Guilty as charged

I have a guilt problem, it attacks me in lots of ways. Today it bit hard at the end of my assessment meeting with the clinical psychologist. She arranged for a follow up next week to discuss options for support and treatment, but was very open that whatever is decided there would be a waiting list of 3 months at least. She noted that churches often have resources that would enable me to access support sooner.

I know about that, a confidential access to counselling for church ministers, the minister pays part and the Methodist church pays the rest, but without knowing who it is for.  So why have I not gone down that road?  I feel very self conscious that when I crashed at college the church paid to hold me in college for longer and for the weekly counselling I had then – I don’t want to be more of a burden and would feel guilty about taking more. But on the other hand I also feel guilty at clogging the queue in an overstretched NHS service.

The end result of this double guilt effect that her question had unwittingly highlighted was driving home with a feeling that I shouldn’t bother either system and that if I can just get my own act together, well I don’t really need....  Which all essentially equals ‘I’m not worth anyone bothering to invest all that stuff on’ – which is what she had drawn out of our conversation anyway... 

So there you have it – guilty as charged.

The ups and downs...

On Monday my scales announced that I had reached 15st (down from a high of a bit over 16). I checked again at the end of the day before I dared report this to others. Tuesday I stepped on again to celebrate, and suddenly I was 15st 2. The general grumps, plus this, plus having proclaimed confidently the achievement which wasn’t – together sent me to the sugar fix and I’m told 5st 4 and severe munchies. Some of the munchies may be hormonal but that doesn’t help the diet.

Thursday night we held an event at church – a falconry visit and talk. We weren’t overrun but it was a presentable small group. Some visited church hall for the first time, which was part of the point. But having slept too little all week, the grumps and a litany on the search for a door lock *(‘A lock, a lock, my kingdom for a lock’) I crashed emotionally. Didn’t have any more social reserves left and was, still am, overwhelmed with a sense of pointlessness. Technically apart from last night I have had leave this week, which was just as well as my functioning has been next to useless.

I like the way Hyperbole comments on the experience of depression on social interaction when you feel too disconnected to read or respond to people

“However, I could no longer rely on genuine emotion to generate facial expressions, and when you have to spend every social interaction consciously manipulating your face into shapes that are only approximately the right ones, alienating people is inevitable.”

It is the first thing I have read which captures how and why people stuff seems so hard in depression – it is because it is like suddenly trying to use a second language that you bungled through at school and haven’t used for years. Doable but exhausting.

I am officially on an Interruption in my depression and faith studies – I had an enquiry about my plans, to return or not. I want to do this – as much as I can want when emotionless – but is it fair when I’m already dropping balls domestically, pastorally?

For now I just need to get dressed and take the dog out...

* It all began with the simple aim of cutting a spare key for Gabi’s occasional dog walker, 3 keys and several tweaks later it is concluded that my original is a poor copy and impossible to get a useable key from it.  No problem, the cylinder locks are straightforward to remove and fit new, but needed a friend to tackle the first screw as I couldn’t get it to turn. That done the lock was temp back in place whilst I went down the road to the hardware shop to buy a new one having checked the size. Except it is an odd size, don’t have any, okay going to the big lights will check there – no, not even the big orange shed can help, though a couple of the helpful folk tried.  So home to t’internet and then hard to find my size...  Delivery imminent, hope it works, or it will be the whole door next!

‘For want of a key the lock was lost, for want of a lock the door was lost???’

I have a dream...of the church

In the days after Pentecost what does a church filled with the Spirit look like?

We are told that the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control (the letter to the Galatians ch 5)

What would that look like?

I dream of churches full of people who look to care for other people’s needs, a place that welcomes the outcast, the fragile and the hurting. A church that can in tough love support those who need help to avoid temptation, and yet open its arms to the unconventional.

People who sit and listen to that story all over again, because he needs the company, people who weep with those who weep, and sing with those who rejoice. Those who bind wounds, and hold hands in the dark places.

It would be a group ready to take risks, but for a purpose not just because.

They may sing hymns ancient and prehistoric, or songs where the ink has yet to dry. They may find their own words of prayer or harvest the resources of the generations of faith. They may be loud or they may be quiet, large or small.

But their eyes will be on God, their hands reaching out to neighbours (near and far) and they will love and care for themselves as well.

I dream of the church of the Spirit, and I awake to the church of people.

People with fears that fight the faith, with pains that test the patience, journeys that have quenched the joy, politics that steal the peace.  We are flawed and wounded, our fruit may be stunted, lumpy, moth eaten in places – but it is still fruit.

May the Spirit take us in all our chaos and form us into a church – creased and crinkled but the church of Christ who still bore his wounds in resurrection.

Pentecost thoughts

Tomorrow is Pentecost – when the church remembers the day the Holy Spirit was poured out on the first disciples, young and old, male and female, rich and poor. The Spirit who blows where she will, God’s presence, God’s power expressed here on earth.

On the day of Pentecost things were unpredictable, people were gathered from across the world and heard and experienced that moment, they took that message home with them and the story of Jesus began its journey around the world. They hadn’t gone to have that experience, to meet God in that dramatic way – but God met them in his time and choice of place.

In the 2000 years that have followed people have sought to predict God, to box him into one type of church or another. Yet at the same time people have craved something more, something like that first outpouring. Revivalism emerges regularly and some of us owe the roots of the ‘way we do things’ to groups who had moments like that. But should it be something we seek?

There is a lot of web debate in the places I loiter about events at a church in Cwmbran, not that far from where I grew up.  Meetings are running every night, crowds are gathering and there are reports of a great sense of God’s presence. I am happy to affirm that God is present – even in Cwmbran – and I celebrate anywhere that lives are changed, but I am uncomfortable with the level of hype, and the concept of rushing there to meet God. 

It feels like a hunger for the quick fix, a chasing after someone else’s story and moment. The day of Pentecost came to those who were gathered but not expecting it – they didn’t crowd there because they heard of Peter’s blessing services. The story of Acts, the messages and debates of the letters of the New Testament were about working out the call of the Holy Spirit and move of God in each new place.

I want to touch God and see the Holy Spirit changing lives where I live and work, among those I meet who need to learn of hope and love and a reason to be. That means being willing to get my hands dirty, to glimpse the diamonds in the dust, to be vulnerable myself – that is where I have found myself closest to God.

I offer these closing thoughts on Pentecost Eve – picked off another facebook circular (attribution theirs)

May God bless you with a restless discomfort
about easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships,
so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart.

May God bless you with holy anger at injustice, oppression,
and exploitation of people, so that you may tirelessly work for
justice, freedom, and peace among all people.

May God bless you with the gift of tears to shed with those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy.

May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that
you really CAN make a difference in this world, so that you are able, with God's grace, to do what others claim cannot be done.

And the blessing of God the Supreme Majesty and our Creator,
Jesus Christ the Incarnate Word who is our brother and Saviour,
and the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Guide, be with you
and remain with you, this day and forevermore.

AMEN
a four-fold Franciscan blessing

Bless this mess

I’m back. Between being busy keeping head above water whilst the depression waves crashed around me, and a week without any computer at all, it has been quite a while. I am not going to attempt to catch up on all the blogs themes in my head that never got written so straight into life this week.

Lord bless this mess ...but save me from it!

TV shows invite us into the homes of extreme hoarders, those who cannot bear to be parted with anything until there is no room to move in their house.  I don’t suffer from that and yet I know some of the emotions around being overwhelmed by the chaos, finding ways to try and block it out and not wanting others to know.

I live in mess, abandoned paperwork in the office dumped there from time to time in an attempt to clear out other rooms because visitors are expected. The accumulation of post, shopping, notes and work on all surfaces and some sections of floor throughout the house is overwhelming at times, ok all the time. No it maybe that others live in the chaotic cluttered places too, but I guess the question is how it affects us and whether it is in charge of you or you of it.

Anyway, on Thursday I invited the 3 members of my support group into the manse – without cover up under the carpet attempts. I wanted to be honest, I wanted to cry for help but it was very scary and I felt so vulnerable. It was a moment of admitting that I am not coping domestically, not coping as a person...   It was a soul baring moment.  I have been drained all day today.

Next wed they are going to come and help me start to sort things and get back to a baseline, but I know that is just a start – I need to break habits and that’s what scares me more. I’d have to face up to the things that are in the way of me coping and at the moment hiding under the duvet is all I feel up to facing.

The mess around me represents the mess of feelings inside.  

So what is normal?

I did Maths to A-Level (yes I know that is surprising, even more that I passed since I am hopeless at basic arithmetic) and sad person that I am I got excited to learn a definition of ‘normal’. It is a line in geometry which is (IIRC) perpendicular to the tangent of a curve. 

My quirky mind loved the idea that normal can be defined – and have nothing to do with the matter at hand! As someone who had always felt, or was made to feel, abnormal, a misfit, this was an idea to hug to myself.

I find myself once again wondering about normals.  I have got used to being depressed, and what effect that has on aspects of my life, my anxiety in certain situations, my fears.  But am I attributing to the depression things that are simply normal bumps in life? I have spoken with some colleagues about my guilt over visiting anxieties, only to find I am not alone. Others also feel nervous and awkward in a range of the situations we find ourselves in as clergy.

Have I got so used to the idea that what I feel is a result of the depression filter that I have a distorted view of what is normal? Do I have a rose tinted glasses view of normality? What if  feeling what I do is actually normal but I have forgotten how to recognise it?

In which case am I just being lazy and a whinger after all?

And off I go tying my brain in knots, just as Gabi wandering on the long field lead can do laps round the tree trunk and then wonders why she is stuck!

Here's one to read elsewhere...

I haven't posted for a while - busy fitting in life as a doggy mummy and back to work. I know regular walks are good for me, but right now they just leave me exhausted. But then too tired to notice the grumps as much.

Anyway here is a recommendation to read until I wake up enough to write my own  -

Another Christian outting herself as having depression, another insight to the emotions and reactions from other believers. (And yes her dad has just started a new job and Lambeth Palance - but this is about her, and her experiences)

When the horror is down your street...

Written because of our situation here, but remembering also the Philpott fire trial whose jury returned a guilty verdict on the same day (2/4/13) as our village murder case.

 _______________________________________________________________

Life is going on as normal, ordinary lives behind ordinary front doors, and then all of a sudden life has changed – a tragic event, a missing person, a fire – pain; loss; panic; then the community pulls together. The police are all around, the media hovering in their wake – life in this place, in this street, will never be quite the same again.

Time passes, people adjust to what has happened and hold it with them whilst also getting on with life, because normal life must go on.  Then suddenly the tragedy invades again, an arrest, it was close to home, not stranger danger but death at the hands of those who should have loved.  Time goes on, arrest to charge and finally, finally to trial.

Information flows out from the court, is this really true? Can something like this really be happening in our place, in our street? Weeks of witnesses and lawyers in wigs, then 12 men and women gather to discern the truth.

Guilty! Condemned. An answer at last – this did happen. It happened here. It happened to people we knew, it was done by someone we know.  The media hover to close their stories, tie up the loose ends with a few quotable quotes. Is this the end of the beginning and the beginning of the future for our community?

And what of those who are left? Family living with both loss and treachery? Neighbours who will look out of windows at the reminder of what has happened. Onlookers whose own past horrors are stirred up by events and play and replay in their heads.

Yet in time the world will move on, the newspapers will be shredded, new headlines will move to the top of a Google search, the rhythm of community life will move on. In more time new curtains will hang at those windows, eventually it will just fall into an old story of people long ago.

But until then let us be gentle with the wounds, the healing scars, and memory of those whose lives were taken.

The minister's dog

Easter Sunday and it has been an interesting day in the story of Gabi and I.  This morning she was happy sunning herself in the garden (after coming to fetch me for a game of chase) so I decided not to call her in to lock her up whilst I went to my first service. The garden is secure, and I left the back porch open for shelter locking up the rest of the house.  It seemed the natural thing to do though some may think otherwise. When I returned lunchtime all was well.

Later I had 2 services following on – with a bit of time between but not enough to come back to base. It would be a lot longer than any time she had been yet left alone, was it too soon? I took the other option and she came to church with me. She fidgeted at the first – every time people stood to sing she thought she would be taken out for a walk! But settled ok. 

On route to the next service I drive through a large common, we had a bit of time so stopped and went for a walk. The theory was good, Gabi enjoyed it but this was up in the lands still with snow, and melted snow ran in rivulets. Quite early on I slipped and slid through the mud – yes with my tidy preaching clothes, and in the interests of doing a thorough job as I slid down the skirt slid up so it was a damp bum for the rest of the evening!

During the evening service a tired Gabi was very settled and lay down most of the time, even when we have the percussion out. She coped well but I wonder if overloading with new places and people was worse than leaving her to manage a 5-6hr stint alone.  It may have been a Hobson’s and I would still have worried about doing the right thing if it had been the other way around.

In any event we have both survived, had supper and settled for the night, a quiet Monday I think.

The arrival ...

So my new housemate has moved in. I collected Gabi from the Dog’s Trust centre yesterday and we are in the early days of working each other out. I have found that she loves the garden and enjoys a game of chase and the chance to run around. She is also camera shy and any time I try to get a close up with my phone camera she turns to walk away. She is good, too good – as if she is wary of where she will end up next if she does anything wrong.

She has discovered that after letting her out in the morning for a toilet break I return to bed and can stay there for hours – she came upstairs with me at first and after I went down for our breakfasts around 8am and then returned she later came up to check on me then went away again.

We have a lot in common, anxiety, concern about being good and getting things right and needing to take time to decide if someone’s kindness can really be trusted. Well I like to think I have moved on from the last one but it is definitely a pattern I recognise.

It will be interesting to see how our group therapy progresses.

For now my end of term report is that things are all a bit of a haze, emotionally numb and disconnected from Easter despite needing to lead services. Oh well, it’s Friday but Sunday’s coming... sometime!  

When people are scary even though they're not

It has been a bit of a mixed day, it started with an early wake up and remembering I hadn’t put the rubbish out last night so quick dash in pyjamas before back to bed.  The post brought a thick envelope from psychology services - this was not a simple appointment letter. Actually no appointment at all, just a hope for one in a couple of months – and a thick wad of a questionnaire to fill in. What are my difficulties, how affect life, my childhood, relationships, friendships, employment and education histories.  Quite intense but after years of ministry training with annual self reflection forms I coped well enough and spent the morning filling it up. An achievement.

It does make me stop and think about how this episode of depression varies from others before. This afternoon I forced myself to make a visit at the community hospital, it was overdue and as I was already out on errands and virtually passing it I couldn’t find an excuse to put it off. It sounds awful, I do care and that is why I feel guilty about it all – not visiting, not wanting to be there, and afterwards feel small and petty as my reasons for avoiding visits seem flimsy compared to their needs.

This social anxiety has been part of my shadows for years but it seems to be topping the bill in this episode. I don’t have any definite thoughts of things that I am afraid of happening, just a general angst, emotion without conscious thought.  It is as if my unconscious mind knows my conscious thinking part is too clued up to recognising the twisted thoughts as irrational and the voice of depression not reality and avoids that tactic. So I get the feelings without thoughts.

But if you read up anything about social anxiety it seems an odd thing to have when I can stand up every week and lead public worship and preach. Just the sort of thing that makes people nervous even without any anxiety issues.  I can do that, but social chit-chat, one to ones, coffee morning chatter, all that feels beyond me.  I suppose a major difference is control, knowing the conversation topic and feeling more confident because of that.

So social stuff has always been draining, but at the moment it feels beyond me, and a major part of the current depression.  Bit of a challenge in a people based job!