The Importance of Self Care

Hello, come on in!

I haven't been sure what my next blog post would be on. Hence the longer silence. I've toyed around with a few ideas and have a few things in the works. Really though, I just need to be able to sit down and work out a plan for how I'm going to manage the blog so that I can be writing and posting regularly without overloading myself. But, that's for another time.

Right now, though, I wanted to talk about something that had been on my mind a lot. Something that I think Christians can be particularly bad at. And what is that? Self care.

I mean, there are fairly obvious reasons why this has been on my mind. My entire life is currently a process of figuring out how I can effectively look after myself, so that just living is not an exhausting endeavour. And, as a Christian raised to believe that if I'm not serving, if I'm not being active for God one way or another, then something is wrong. I have chaffed against my body; bawled my eyes out over having to pull out of a commitment last minute; and collapsed in bed after leaving a wedding early, heart aching over my physical weakness and mental exhaustion.

And it's odd. The more aware of it I'm forced to be in my own life, the more aware of it I am in the things other people say.

"Oh, I don't want to take time off, it doesn't show a good work ethic." But you're sick?

"I'm so tired and so stressed but I can't pull out of anything. It's all good stuff, God stuff." Sure, but so is rest. Like, it was one of the ten commandments. Heck, God rested Himself after creating the world. So, maybe, just maybe, taking the rest you need is also a God thing? Just throwing it out there.

Now, I'm trying to keep this short, so I'll finished with a little letter direct to anyone and everyone reading this who feels tired, is stressed, struggles to live life with chronic illness or in any other way needs to be encouraged today:

You, my dear, are oh so precious. You were carefully, lovingly made by the Creator of all things. He walked this earth and shed His blood so that He might rescue you: that's how precious you are to Him. He loves you. He knows you. He understands you. Trust in Him and rest in the knowledge that He had got this.

And, dear one, so feels exhausted and weak, here's something I'm learning: as long as we remain faithfully putting one foot  front of the other, trusting in God for your daily bread, you are serving Him. You are serving others. You are showing that He is trustworthy. You are encouraging others to trust in Him.

And to finish, I'll share this wonderfully encouraging thing a friend shared with me yesterday: God created our bodies, our minds, our emotions, our souls. As with all the rest of Creation, they are not our own to do with as we please. They are God's and we are merely stewards. Therefore, it is our job to look after them, to tend to them they need tending to. To give ourselves both the work and the rest they require. There is no shame in being ill or exhausted or stressed. There is no shame of taking care of ourselves. To do so is to take part the job God had given to all of humanity: the care for His Creation.

Love,
Laura Dee

P.S. if you have any stories you'd like to share with me or things you'd like me to pray about for me, please feel free to contact me and let me know.  LD

Sunset at the Lagoon

So, I'm enjoying having a little more energy again. For instance, last night, I drove to local beach and spent an hour and a half at the lagoon, reading my book, exploring and praying. It wore me out, but at least for nearly 2 hours, I was able to see the sun and actually pay attention to the world.

It was so beautiful! So, I thought I'd share some of the photos I took with y'all. Enjoy!

Oh Lord, my God, when I in awesome wonder

Consider all the worlds thy hand hath made

I see the stars, I hear the mighty thunder

Thy power throughout the universe displayed

Then sings my soul, my saviour God to thee

How great thou art, how great thou art!

The words between the photos are lyrics from this wonderful song:

Update: How am I now?

Hello, my friends!

I'm so sorry that this update is so overdue! But the last few months have been rocky for me. Still, I'm back, and alive, sitting here with a cup of white tea based chai.

So, the update! How have I been doing? And what's been happening?

Well, I started on antidepressants recently and am currently half way through my fourth week. Why did I not start on these sooner, you ask? Well, the truth is, I haven't needed them before. In the past, my depression manifested itself as Seasonal Affective Disorder. Which means: depression during the winter months, healthy during the summer months. Which meant I could basically see a counsellor to help me through the winter months and then be alright with the return of summer.

That is not what happened this time. Instead, winter last year was accompanied by vitamin deficiency and anxiety. As winter turned into summer, and I stopped studying, the anxiety lessened and the depression began making itself known. Still, I was hopeful that as before, the support of a psychologist would be enough to see me through. Then winter started creeping back in and I started getting noticeably worse. I'd go for days without showering and dressing, and would rock up to things having hauled myself out of bed a mere half hour previously. If that. For those of you who don't know me so well, that is very, very not normal for me.

Anyway, around this time a beloved aunt of mine reached out to me. I went to spend some time with my extended family and discovered that I was not the mental health freak I thought I was - depression is actually very common amongst us. At least, on that side. My aunt also started talking to me about medication and how helpful it is. After talking with her and a few other people in my family, I decided it was time. This time, I wasn't getting better, I was getting worse. Medication it was.

I hauled my butt to my doctor's and told her I thought medication would be helpful. She agreed. I started on it that same day.

The first three weeks were, relatively speaking, phenomenal. I was sleeping better. I was waking up early (8 or 9 as opposed to 10 or 11) and was actually able to get stuff done with my days. My high activity days were still everyone else's low activity days, but hey! It's an improvement.

Last weekend, I was even able to go out with my Mum and sister, go for a long walk around Sydney, attend church twice and then spend a late night out catching up with some dear friends over dinner. I was even able to spend an hour and a half catching up with some other friends on Tuesday morning and then make the drive back home still energised.

Then came the crash. I fell asleep halfway through Bible study. I only got out of bed on Wednesday because I had an appointment to see my doctor. She noticed I was feeling flat. The last few days have been spent in bed, and sleeping during the day (not something healthy me would usually do, like, ever). Today is a better day. I'm showered and dressed. I went out, I'm even writing. Hopefully this means I'm on another upswing.

During this time, I came across the blog of Ana Harris, the wife of Brett Harris (co-author of The Rebelution and Do Hard Things). Ana is 24 and has spent the vast majority of her five year marriage terribly sick. For her health, she and Brett have had to leave behind civilisation. The blog is her recovery story, being told to us as it happens. I have read every single post.

Through it, God is teaching me that my body is not my enemy, but my ally. For a woman who is used to being active and full of energy, it's easy to see my body as an enemy when it prevents me from doing the things I love. It's an important paradigm shift for me to start viewing it as my ally, telling me when enough is enough. And I need the megaphone of ill health to make me listen to my own needs.

This whole thing is also one long, admittedly frustrating at times, lesson in patience and trust. I am not good at taking things slowly. Mum says I never bothered learning to crawl - walking (read: running) was a much faster mode of transport, and therefore more desirable. That attitude has not changed. To my detriment, these days.

Anyway, for those of you have been praying: thank you so much! I need all the prayer I can get. To my family: thank you for being such a great support! To God: thanks for being infinitely more patient and faithful than I.

And that's it for this update! I should be back soon with more posts. God willing!

Love,
Laura Dee

The Truth About Wanting to Die

Well, the truth as I know it. If you're looking for something hopeful, look away... I doubt this will be that kind of post. I was doing better, you know. I really was. I was starting to engage in life again. I tried a new tea today. Started planning what the next few years might look like. I even sat down to write a draft of my story for a project a friend of mine has invited me to write for. It was good. It really was. It just meant I had to think about things I can't think about if I'm going to maintain the pretense that I'm fine.

I was going to skip this step, you know. Get straight to the whole "things are starting to look up" stage, but today has reminded me that doing that would be very, very dishonest. And I promised I would always be honest. Besides, maybe it'll help. Help me feel less alone. Help you feel less alone if you ever feel the way I sometimes do.

But please, please, please, tread carefully. This isn't going to be pretty. And if you feel it bringing things up for you, please, please, please speak to someone. If you don't know who to speak to, I'd recommend calling Lifeline. The number is 13 11 14. Everyone is trained to listen to you, to support you where you are at.

I really didn't. But less than half an hour ago, I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed, razor pressed against my wrist. The battle was raging inside of me - cut or don't cut. I didn't. I wish I could say it was for noble reasons. I can't. I was just being cowardly. So far, I've managed to avoid breaking skin. But there have been evenings when I've had scratches half way up my forearm.

I never thought I'd self harm. But I have been. And I've been wanting to do worse.

I was going to put in a slightly prettier, more poetic way of saying this (note, I didn't write either), but it wouldn't have been honest. And, again, the spirit of total honesty. It kind of sucks.

But yeah... this basically what it's been like for me. I was thirteen the first time I articulated this to myself. It was only last year that I accepted that this is also feeling suicidal... it's a passive kind of suicidality. The kind that just gives up on oneself. My psychologist said that when I described it to her. "You've given up on yourself". In many ways, I have.

Sometimes, the only thing stopping me from stepping out in front of a speeding car is the thought of how it would screw up the driver's life.

My psych, she asked me about it. Asked what lies under it. I whispered "I feel worthless". Then, louder, "but that doesn't make sense."

She smiled at me. A little sadly. "No one wants to die if they think they are of worth."

I guess she's right. Certainly,  my reasons for staying alive aren't because I value myself.  They are because I know it would hurt my family and my friends too much. And because I still believe God will make something good out of this mess. But that is so, so, so hard to hold onto.

And, at the end of the day, maybe it doesn't matter that I've never broken skin and haven't actively tried to kill myself. After all, I've mentally killed myself a thousand times. My first step when I make a mistake is to start berating myself as a failure, a worthless piece of filthy, rotten manure. It's surprised me to realise, in recent times, how much I hate myself.

Not my appearance. I've reached a point where I've accepted that I am passably pretty. But is that vaniety when I know that I hate who I am far more intensely than I could ever like the way I look?

And sure, there are times when I like who I am... but it's so fleeting, so fragile... every small gain in self acceptance is so easily lost. And I've heard people say that we need to stop worrying about self esteem so much - what matters is what God thinks of us. But let me tell you right now: what God thinks of me is the only reason I am alive. And self esteem may not matter when you're confident and secure, but when you've got none, when you only mildly approve of yourself on a good day, it matters. It matters because your view of yourself colours how you think everyone views you. Even God. I'm only going because my head keeps telling me "but God loves you". My heart doesn't quite believe it.

And you know what the worst of it is? That comment there is so true. So, so often, I can't articulate it. Or it isn't acceptable to share it. Or I just have no energy to deal with anything. So I just sort of half smile and say I'm tired. And everyone nods and says they understand and starts giving me advice about sleep and food and pretty much no one ever asks "what kind of tired is that?".

Everyone's an expert and no one asks, because "tired" can be categorised and packed away, but who knows how to respond to "I want to die".

And that leaves me alone. Alone with my hurt, my pain, my hatred. And that's the worst of it.

And yeah, I'm writing this now because I can't do it any more. I can't keep pretending I'm fine when "fine" is an act I've practiced so long and hard that sometimes even I can't tell where the reality ends and the act begins. I'm doing this now because as much as I want to die, I want to live. Not just survive, but live. Really live. And enjoy it. I want to be able to feel grateful and to praise God. I don't want my life to be a lament. But it is. And I just can't. I can't do it anymore.

And so, I promise you, I will go out tonight. I'll give a friend a hug. I'll tell someone I'm struggling today. I'll be back in a couple of days with another post. And I'll keep doing one of the hardest things God has ever asked me to do: Live.

Love,

Laura Dee

xox

Highlights and Reflections: Solomon's Perjury

Hello my friends!

Come in, grab a cuppa. I myself have a mug of "Tummy Tea" - a peppermint and liquorice tea from T2 - and a brownie made for me by a wonderful housemate.

This one will be lighter than my last post (hopefully). I have decided to alternate between the heavy heart-sharing and the lighter discussions about books/shows/music/whatever strikes my fancy. Which, if nothing else, should help me maintain some semblance of balance.

So, this paragraph was initially about how I was going to do highlights from both February and March in one post. Than I spent several paragraphs sharing about one show and what it meant to me. So I decided it would probably be better to dedicate entire posts to the books, shows and music that touch me, rather than only a small portion of one. So, here it is: What Solomon's Perjury means to me.

Solomon's Perjury is a 12 episode Korean drama that aired over six weeks in December and January. I went into it expecting an interesting show, and proceeded to fall in love with it.

The show was centred around one particular high school, and even more specifically, on a group of seniors. These seniors have their lives completely shaken up when one of them discovers the body of a classmate lying in the snow on school grounds the day after Christmas. After a brief investigation, the death is ruled as a suicide, and everyone is in a rush to get things back to normal as quickly as possible. They may have succeeded, except that an anonymous letter turns up, claiming that the death was not suicide, but homicide. Furthermore, the writer claims to have witnessed three other classmates pushing the dead boy off the roof of the school building. Chaos ensues, accusations are hurled, and the school rushes to mitigate the damage. Frustrated at the unwillingness of the adults involved to provide any genuine answers, 7 of the students decide to take matters into their own hands. They stage a school trial, determined to get to the bottom of it all.

Now, in my opinion, this show had many things going for it. I fell in love with the characters. The heroine's mother has joined my list of "Best TV Mums". I admire the spunk of the high schoolers, and was delighted that neither they nor the adults were belittled in order to show the other group in a good light. But what really sold it for me, what made it a show I will come back to time and again, was the questions it asked and the topics it explored.

I won't lie. This show got dark. Really dark. It dealt with issues of suicide, abuse (I include high school bullying in here), corruption, parenting, and friendship. The show started off making us ask "how did SoWoo die?". We were then made to ask "why did he die?". And then, finally, we realised that the show had been asking us a very important question all along. It is a question that I think many of us ask ourselves time and time again:

Why should I live?

When life sucks, what reason do I have to keep going? What, in all this horrible, messy world, is worth living for? When circumstance, loved ones, life have beaten us back, have beaten us down, have left us bloody, and bruised, why should I get back up? What point is there in life if all I am doing is putting one foot in front of the other? Can life ever get better?

As you may be able to tell, especially if you've been following along with me, these are questions that deeply resonate with me. Why should I live? When all I can see is pain and confusion and no answers, why should I keep going? Keep hoping?

And the answer, or at least the part of it that the show explored, has come back to me a number times over the last few months, especially in those moments when, quite frankly, I have wanted to die. (Side note: yes, I have support. Yes, I am talking about this. Yes, I am seeing a psychologist. Yes, I will go to hospital if I decide it is no longer safe for me outside of it.)

It's not a new answer, but something about the way the show communicated it really touched my heart and soul. And has sent this show onto the list of shows to watch when I need a reminder that everything will be OK.

It's not faith based, but it's real, and it's hopeful. And sometimes, that's all one needs. It reminds us that sometimes things will change, sometimes they won't. Whatever happens, you will always have to live with the after affects, be they good or bad. But you can only know what will happen, how life will unfold, if you stick around to see it.

And for me, it is a reminder that a Master Artist is at work in all of life. That, however crushing things get, there us One who is working it all out, calling on me to "look among the nations! Observe! Be astonished! Wonder! I am doing something in your days - You would not believe if you were told" (Habakkuk 1:5, NASB).

And so (spoiler alert), I will leave you with this ending monologue:

You were wrong. You left the world with the wrong answer. You turned off a beautiful piece of music after only listening to the prelude. You passed by a lovely flowering tree in the midst of rain. Your life, which you always thought was full of darkness, was a room where the lights had not yet been turned on. It could have changed. It could have been better. So you were wrong. I wanted to tell you this.
Now... spring is coming. I lost my mother in winter. I lost my father in winter. I lost you in winter. Still, spring is coming in my life. The snow is melting, and new shoots are coming up. The day is bright and clear, and the breeze is fine. So I don't mean to get tired of it, even if life is only like this.

Love,
Laura Dee

The Original Serenity Prayer

I've been finding it extremely hard to put certain things into words, but I am working on it! In the meantime, I discovered that the well-known Serenity Prayer is not what was originally written. I have found the original Serenity Prayer a much, much harder prayer to pray - but also far more uplifting. So, I thought I'd share it here with you. As you read, please, ponder the words. If it feels right, also feel free to pray this wonderful (difficult) prayer.

God,

Give us the grace to accept with serenity the things that can not be changed,
Courage to change the things which should be changed,
And the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.

Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next.

Amen

Psalm 23

I figured the best way to share what's been going on in my life is to just share excerpts from my prayers and reflections with you. And to just dive into it.

This is an excerpt/summary of an imaginative contemplation exercise I did reflecting on Psalm 23 a couple of months ago. This won't be coherent. But it's midnight and I can't sleep. So here goes.

Psalm 23:

The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me by still waters.

Images of an idyllic meadow. I'm curled up under a tree. Still waters - stagnant? My mind supplies a brook. An a rock near me the shepherd sits. Strong, watchful. Safe.

He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness, for His name's sake.

He restores my soul. He restores my soul. He restores my soul. It has captured my thoughts.
He restores my soul. There is no condemnation here. Merely acknowledgement that my soul needs restoring. Assurance that He will do it.
He restores my soul. Like the angel who comes to Elijah, when he is wanting to die. Who feeds him and lets him sleep, waiting patiently, until Elijah is ready.
He restores my soul.

Even though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death,
I will fear no evil,
For your rod and your staff,
They comfort me.

I approach the Valley. The Valley of the Shadow of Death - the Valley of the Shadow of the Consequence of Sin. It is dark. The mountains are steep and sinister. Death seems written into it's every line. I hear it in the sliding of the rocks. I smell it in the rot of the plants.
The Valley is dark.
I see no light. No way out.
My muscles freeze. Then tremble. The only sound I hear is my gulp.
I step back.
Bump.
There's something solid behind me.
I turn. It is the Shepherd. My solid, safe Shepherd.
I want to shake my head. Scream. Run away. Tell Him I don't want to go in there.
He smiles. He knows.
He takes my hand. "It's OK. I'm here."

You prepare a table before me
In the presence of my enemies

We are in the Valley. He stops me. The Enemies (who are they???), they prowl around. Snarling, snapping, snatching. He lays down a rug. He spreads out food. It is simple. It is a place of refuge and security. Right here, right now, it is safe. Though the Enemies continue to circle. They are ready, waiting, waiting. Ready to pounce and devour. He will not let them touch me.

You anoint my head with oil,
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life
And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Here my heart trembles. I feel anger and hurt and bewilderment. What goodness? What mercy? Where was it when my school fellow abused me? Where was it when I was forced to move country? Where was it when my best friend betrayed me? Was the man who did not respect me, yet claimed to love me, a goodness? Where is this acclaimed goodness now, as I struggle with months of chronic illness? Where was it when Aleppo was being bombed? Goodness and mercy follow me? It feels like it is pain and suffering that has stalked me life. Controlled it. Destroyed it piece by piece.
My heart yearns to know the truth, to feel the truth that I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. But all I can feel, all I can see, is the unfairness I have experienced. The injustice I have faced. The hurt that I feel.
And I am alone. I feel completely and utterly alone. The Enemy snaps. My heart bleeds.