True to form...

I have, as always, been irregular in my postings.

But I have been busy with other things.

I joined a NEW gym, and now go three times a week. More freedom than the old gym, and I can do classes like pilates if I like.

I have also gained a load of weight. Almost 15 kilos. That's about a 33% gain. Partially due to medication, and partically due to eating just about everything in sight.

The problem is, most of my wardrobe doesn't fit anymore. I've gone from a six to a ten. All those lovely dangerfield retro clothes, now too tight. Squishy squishy!

I sort of finished TAFE. Have put some things on hold till next year, but almost done. It's a bit of an anti-climax: I did all I planned to, but haven't actually passed yet.

I gave up dancing, but have started going to an art group instead. I'm doing some watercolours and just getting to try new techniques, and the ladies there are lovely. I had a couple of sketches in their little end of year exhibition, which was nice.

I will try to post a bit more!

The Elephant in The Room

I've been trying to do stuff every day. Let's just say that some days are more successful than others.

Unfortunately, just as I got into the swing of treating my depression, the holidays hit. This has meant no TAFE, the boys off at their dads, no school drop off or pick up, no dancing, no gym, and I'm also on leave from work.

I planned the holidays this way, because I'd intended to do work placement the whole time, but being unwell I just didn't have the energy, so that's been put off for a while.

The other problem with holidays, is that other people tend to do stuff, so while I'm at home, desperate for some sort of friendly human interaction beyond the empty greetings at the supermarket, everyone I know has been busy doing other things, with people who aren't me.

I can slowly feel myself turning into a hermit.

I have forced myself to go out. Do shopping, sort through my wardrobe, I even went to a party plan party last night, and bought myself a little something.

It doesn't fix it!

There is also a hell of a lot of stuff I have intended to do, that I just haven't been able to face.

A couple of weeks ago with the counsellor, just as we were wrapping up, she mentioned about how I should speak up and say what I want, that I don't have to say it's fine, or nevermind, or no that doesn't bother me at all, that I should say what I really want sometimes. That's something that I should do more.

Then the flood gates opened.

And out came the elephant in the room: That relationship.

All that time I couldn't speak up for my own needs, I gave chance after chance after chance, put up with some awful treatment. He had me convinced that if things wouldn't work with him, then they would never work with anyone else. He had me convinced that no one would love me the way he did. Had me convinced that all men other than him were bastards. I believed all of that. Never questioned it. Every time I ended it he managed to sneak back into my life, even if I was happy by myself.

I'm sure people who watched from the outside thought he was being unreasonable, that I didn't need that shit, and they told me so, but unless you're in it you don't understand. You don't know how much we love each other, how much we need each other, how I'm the only one who understands him, how lost he would be without me, how great things are when things are good.

OR

How difficult it is to leave an abusive relationship once you're entrenched, how he changes the way you see yourself, how he twists everything to be your own fault, how he charms his way back in, how he says it's only because he loves you so much, how he loves you more than anyone ever loved anyone else in the history of everything, even though he hurts you more than anyone ever has.

How you're only allowed to have your own opinion if it's the same as his opinion. How if you say what you really want, you'll be told it's wrong, or bad, or unreasonable. How everything becomes black and white, how he projects his own opinions and motivations on to everything you do, and how whataver you did was the wrong thing for the wrong reasons, no matter how many times you explain otherwise.

How when you're in a relationship where you can't do anything right, leaving is wrong too.

Even if it's what you really want.

We broke up 'for good' a year ago, but he snuck his way back in. Again.

I finally got him completely out of my life a few months or so ago, after a 'discussion' which involved him telling me I was, and I quote, fucked in the head for my beliefs, and how if I didn't stop talking that way he'd ring my dad to see what he had to say about me...

:-/ Words fail me.

Either way, after about four years of treading on eggshells and not speaking up for my own needs, I'm going to try to speak up more, try to say what I really want.

Try.

Convincing enough?

No more beating around the bush: No, I'm not OK.

There are so many euphemisms we use when describing depression.

I'm caught in the storm.
Fighting the black dog.
Stuck in a black hole.
In a bad spot.
Lost in a fog.
Not coping.
Being dragged underwater.
Swimming upstream.

There are many more.

Depression is like being in an emotionally (and sometimes physically) abusive relationship with your own thoughts.

It is well known that abuse is never solved through silence. These figures of speech don't really help.

So, no more beating around the bush.

I AM DEPRESSED. Not just feeling blue, but suffering from depression.

After being in recovery for so long, I am depressed again.

There, I said it. In plain English.

I am not well.

At all...

...and to be honest I am scared out of my wits, because it has hit me without warning, totally unexpectedly, and especially because I'm doing everything right compared to six years ago.

I am actively engaged in my childrens' lives, I have wonderful social support networks, I am studying to improve myself and improve my future prospects, I work so I feel useful, I have control over my own finances and am doing extremely well for someone living on centrelink payments, I am looking after my house, I have clean dishes AND clean clothes, I exercise every week for my physical health, I do dancing purely for myself, I'm aware of what is going on in the world around me, and I have only healthy nurturing relationships.

But still, here I am.

Monday was an exhausting, but empowering day:

On Monday I admitted there was a problem.

I've been amazed at the response since. It's so overwhelming the support I've received, and from people I didn't expect, too. People have also said how I seem so calm and in control, and doing so well. I'm the one that has it all sorted.

Inside, though, I feel like that same person six years ago. Sad, empty, pathetic, hopeless, unworthy.

Except that this time I am absolutely determined NOT to let it ruin my life, I WILL NOT let depression destroy my life like it did last time.

Partly because I've fought it before, and partly because I have so much more to lose this time.

Yes, to say I'm scared is an understatement.

I share this without hope or expectation from anyone who reads it. I simply want you to know, because silence never helped anyone. Speaking out is the only way.

What is Recovery?

I guess the first question should be "What is depression?" a good friend of mine who is all sorts of awesome came up with a pretty good description in her blog post entitled "Depression is Crazy, Stupid, Dumb"

For me, depression was just nothingness, blackness, darkness, emptiness.. and anger, possibly due to the pretend happiness, because "What have I got to be depressed about?"

I have spent six years in recovery. The first two years were a hard fight. One where you're already exhausted from having spent four years in the middle of that dark storm cloud, just trying to get up every day, where you're losing every single day. Every. Single. Day. Then you start on that slow road towards the light, and you can't do it without help. You need an army behind you, because no matter how much "you deserve to be happy" you CAN NOT DO IT... JUST CAN NOT!!

Eventually you can do things without help, but you keep fighting, because if you stop fighting, the dark cloud WILL come back. You probably think of yourself as 'better' but the undercurrent is that you're still swimming, just not as much against the current as across it.

You proclaim to the world how much better things are. And they are. Honestly. ANYTHING has to be better than the blackness.

But that dark cloud is still there. It's just way off on the horizon. So far off, sometimes you forget it was ever there, you forget how hopelessly awful things were when you were caught in that storm, and of course you forget what an amazing job you did fighting it.

Now, the problem is, when you forget about depression, that's when it can creep up on you. If you're facing it dead in the eyes every day and have beat it before, you know you can beat it again, and you can put in place all the things to do it again, and to keep it at bay, but what if you don't notice?

I know I am better, in that I am a better person for having fought depression and come through the other side, but sometimes I forget. There is no CURE. There are better times, times when the good stuff outweighs the bad stuff, or when the good stuff makes me forget the bad stuff. Sometimes I need the good stuff in order to pretend the bad stuff isn't there. I don't know to what extent the good days are just me pretending. Subconsciously maybe? Self preservation? Denial?

Certainly things have never got even remotely close to how they were over six years ago when I was admitted to a mental health unit. I think it's easy to disregard how close the cloud may be when you've been in such a bad place.

It's all relative isn't it? But is it good compared to 'depression', or is it bad compared to 'happiness'?

Am I being melodramatic when I have a bad day because it's not nearly as bad as it used to be? If so, what if that bad day turns into a bad week, or a bad most of a month? Surely that's 'bad'?

But I'm kidding myself, surely, if I expect to be happy every single day. So, I take a day off here and there, I try to do the things I do, try to exercise, try to sleep well but not too much, I try to be around people, and try not to succumb, but also have to try not to pretend everything is rosey.

My name is Alex.
Six years ago I was hospitalised due to depression.
I had spent four years fighting, and losing.
I spent another two years fighting really hard to recover, with professional support.
I spent the next four years in an abusive relationship, but still improved despite that. That was JUST ME! ON MY OWN!
I still have bad days, but mostly have good days.
Regardless of whether it is a good day or not, I still fight every single day.
Every. Single. Day.
And... I am awesome!

The illusion of "Me Time"

When I was unwell, with post natal and ante natal depression, I did not exist.

I have often described it as living like an empty carcass, that's as close as a description I can get for something that is totally undescribable, and impossible to truly understand, even for those who have a lived experience.

In my recovery one of the things that became really important was "Me Time": being able to do something just for me, to force me to treat myself as important and valuable, and to be more than 'just a mum'. To begin with, simply having a shower in peace was regarded as Me Time. Heck, going to the toilet without interruption was a luxury! Gradually it evolved. Things like having coffee with friends, a night out at karaoke, and getting a haircut and a manicure became my Me Time staples.

Then a funny thing happened.

At some point, and I can't pinpoint when, I stopped reffering to myself as Mummy when talking to the kids. It wasn't 'no, you can't have that, it's mummy's' anymore, it became 'no, you can't have that it's mine.' My identity started to change, or rather, how I defined my identity started to change. I was no longer 'just a mum'.

I started studying, and my opinions became important and valuable, not just to two little boys, but a whole class full of women, including the teacher. And when your opinions are valuable, then so are you.

Eventually I started working as an Aged Care Nurse, and I always felt valuable, because I knew the difference quality care could make to a person's emotional wellbeing and general quality of life. I was making a positive change in the residents' lives. Even if just for a split second: A smile, a moment taken to listen, for them to be heard. By making them feel valuable I made myself valuable.

I have continued my studies and am committed to building a career out of helping those who are disenfranchised, disempowered, who feel powerless, unimportant, like they have never been listened to, and have no voice. And by helping people to become self empowered to see that they are important, that they are valued, that helps me feel valued.

That is a long way away from "Me Time", and I still do stuff just for me, but in terms of doing things for me, to make myself feel important, I've managed to incorporate those into my whole life. My whole life is Me Time, and while it is certainly nice to get a haircut, I dont need those things to feel special. My compassion for others and my will to help others is what makes me flourish as "Me".

My soapbox

Last night I got the opportunity to be an audience member on SBS's Insight. The subject was street aggression and alcohol fueled violence. It was an extremely interesting and thought provoking experience. There were some truly heartbreaking stories: the young man acting the peacemaker now plagued by anxiety and still battling with memory problems, the father whos 20 year old son was left with a brain injury and unable to do anything for himself.

Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to voice my opinion.  I have some pretty strong opinions on the matter, and I was looking forward to some healthy debate, but there wasn't much focus on what the solutions are, so I couldn't quite get an 'in'. If I did get to have my say, this is what I would have wanted to express.

Without a doubt, this is a societal problem. I am the mother of two boys. I have friends with boys in their late teens and I know the fear of them becoming a victim of violence is almost all consuming. My own boys are only seven and nine, but we need to start taking steps now in order to change the attitudes so that in ten years time, when my own kids are of age, I can sleep a little easier at night.

I do not deny that we must throw the book at the perpetrators, but I do not believe that putting a police coloured bandaid on the problem will go far enough to prevent these assaults from happening. More police on the ground could help too, but in the heat of the moment, or fuelled on a belly full of 'piss', rational thinking doesn't come into it, and irrational people are less able to weigh up the consequences of their actions. They know it's wrong, but they don't care.

It's important to remember also, that when someone commits these assaults, it's not just that moment that shapes their actions. There have been 18 years of life experiences and interactions leading up to that point. Those experiences are pivotal to whether they end up in that moment at all.

We could place all responsibility on the parents, and I certainly do my best to instil the right values into my own boys, but there are far more influences in the first 18 years of a child's life. Teachers, community, extended family, peers, sporting coaches, other role models, video games, and of course, the media. For example, I believe sporting stars have a lot to answer for. They bash girlfriends, stick glasses in peoples' faces, sexually assault women, get briefly chastised by the media, then are suddenly back in the good books, given airtime, spots on primetime TV, or re-signed to another team, seemingly all forgiven. What kind of message does all this give?

An investment in quality youth programs, maybe as an adjunct to the current anti bullying programs, or community education programs such as Real Heroes Walk Away. There are suggestions to get in early and teach kids non violent methods of negotiation. Certainly, I'm not impressed by machismo, and find it far more attractive for a man to resolve conflicts without resorting to violence.

Then ongoing effective drug and alcohol education and mental health education such as R U OK Day which has packages designed just for schools, as promoted by 2012 ambassador Wendell Sailor. And programs that engage young people in the community, programs that help them feel empowered, valuable, important, so we reduce the need for them to prove themselves by punching f*ck out of someone.

Of course, the cycnic (realist?) in me knows that a government spending millions of dollars on that police coloured band-aid wins votes, but spending millions of dollars on youth workers and social workers won't, so guess which one the policy makers of the day will pick?

The power of incentives (or everyone has their price)

I love learning.

I have a thirst for knowledge, and new experiences.

The only problem is I procrastinate, which makes finishing assignments and assessments one of those hit and miss affairs. Every form of study I've undertaken, I intend to get started early, finish early, get things out of the way as soon as possible, but it's all just empty promises, and I end up doing an all nighter right on the deadline.

Certificate 4 last year was good, the Diploma has been more of a challenge.

But I DID get everything done, and only a couple of assessments were late.

We're back for semester two, and have started getting our Learner Assessment Strategies (LAS).

One teacher, who is flexible with dates and deadlines as long as we do the right thing and let him know, hit on a great little incentive...

CHOCOLATE!!

For the online OH&S unit, if we hand stuff in on time we get CHOCOLATE.

I'm there...

I'm so there!

Newest Project

One of the things that I often unfinish are plans to do things for charity. I'd love to do something BIG, something special to raise money for charity, but, well.

I think this year is the closest I've ever come.

I took part in FebFast in er, um, February, and gave up alcohol for a month to raise money for drug and alcohol programs for young people. I made it, and I think I raised about $110 dollars.

Walk in her shoes was a failure, my official pedometer was faulty, and I got an infection on my big toe *sigh* but I did raise $20 (my registration fee!)

We're finally cooking with gas (that's a rather unfortunate pun, I'm afraid)

We're doing the World Vision 40 Hour Famine!

Morgan, Hamish and I will be giving up all sorts of mod cons from August 17-19 to raise money for programs to fight chronic hunger in developing countries. The money raised goes to teach communities to farm more efficiently, and to find alternative income streams for back up when crops are bad. This in turn allows children time to go to school and to play and to be real kids. It's been proven that getting an education is the best way to break the cycle of poverty.

If you'd like to find out more, you can visit our BLOG and follow our adventures, go follow us on Facebook or go right ahead and donate to this important cause.

A pregnant woman can't possibly be a CEO

So there is controversy surrounding the appointment of a new CEO at Yahoo.
This would not be news... except that it's a WOMAN, and she's 6 months pregnant with her first child.

Of course when anything like this happens people make a fuss, like she doesn't deserve kids blah blah blah.

What really makes me angry is the double standards. If this was a man who's wife was 6 months pregnant with his first child no-one would batt an eyelid and the asppointment of a new CEO would barely get a mention other than in the business pages.

Why we can't butt out of other people's life decisions, I don't know.

Surely we should be celebrating the appontment of a woman, and commending her on achieving so much. Yahoo were aware of her situation, and selected her with this in mind.

This criticism is why the glass ceiling exists, and how can we expect equality in upper management and the executive if this is how we treat a woman who breaks through.

Well done Marissa Meyer. I commend you!

I Never Finish ANYTHING...

My life is filled to the brim with unfinished projects.

I have cupboards full of wool for knitting, paint for painting, fabric for sewing, plots for writing, seeds for planting...

I. Never. Finish. Anything.

See, I'm an imaginative planner and a creative inventor, I'm a born R & D person (research and development). I have amazing ideas, I'm creative, I love looking at various options for things and thinking of ways to do things outside the square...

Then once the "ho hum" bit arrives I lose interest, and the wonderful creative ideas get locked away, forgotten.

I am known for this habit of never finishing things.

I never started scrapbooking because I knew I'd never finish. I now avoid starting new projects because I know I'll never finish.

But I'm adding more. Another blog.

This time, just a general everyday life thing, no grand plans (I tend to think big when I do R&D) just somewhere to offload stuff. and in honour of my habit of never finishing anything I'm calling it Unfinished, cos it will never be finished, and even if it is left unfinished, then it will be exactly what it says it is.

And LIFE itself is unfinished... until it is finished.