My Faith Testimony!

Hi again friends, 

On Sunday night at church, Jon preached an awesome message on Salvation. No surprise there, that's what the Christian faith is all about. But he also talked about what the defining factor of salvation is for each and every person. He challenged us to think about it and work it out.

Why? Because then we can do as Paul the apostle did in Acts (in the New Testament of the Bible) and tell others why knowing Jesus and the salvation he won for us is so awesome and life changing.

So I thought that I would like to share my testimony here with you. 

What is a testimony? It's basically sharing your faith journey and why your faith and your relationship with Jesus is so important to you.

Thinking back, I always thought that my faith journey began when I was five years old. But when I was speaking to a friend today, I realised I might have been a bit younger, back when we lived in the children's home. It was run by a Lutheran pastor and his wife and Im certain - although I can't remember, that Jesus was spoken of a lot.

My first memories of Jesus and who he was and who he was in MY life, happened when I was about 5. We were fostered to a family in the Adelaide Hills and they placed us in a teeny tiny Lutheran school. It was there I had my first memories of Jesus. I focus on Jesus and not God bc I first heard of Jesus being my friend and brother. Given what a messed up family life we had, I latched onto the relationship of having a big brother who wouldn't hurt me but love me and be there whenever I needed him.

I can remember, in grade one, sitting on the carpet playing with blocks when our teacher Mrs Noll (sp?) asked us who in the classroom had been baptised. Then I remember bursting into tears as Mike and I were the only ones who were NOT baptised. Even at 5 years old, I understood somehow what being in Jesus' family meant.

We got baptised quick smart. 

This photo above is Mike and I (at the front) with our half sister and half brother Bella and Rolf in the background, at our new home on the farm. Mike is proudly holding his hymn book he got - I STILL have mine in my bookshelf and it's something I do treasure from that day.

So, once baptised, I took hold of that friend of mine Jesus and never let go. I always had such a passion and love for this amazing guy who's lap I could climb onto whenever I felt sad - or jsut wanted to sing. Being such an incredibly happy child, I can really only credit Him for that, given all the abuse we had already experienced. I remember that devotion time every morning at school being my favourite time of the day - and while we all used to fight to sing our favourite songs, Mike always won out and I think for years, every single day, we sung "Im Happy on the Inside, Im Happy on the Out" Lol. Just shows what the touch of God can do even when you're tiny like we were.

As a 12 year old, I looked upto my older foster cousins with SUCH admiration. My two 'favourite' cousins Sonia and Julie were the ones I wanted to be just like. I remember sneaking into the Lutheran Seminary when Sonia lived there and sleeping under her desk praying not to get caught. But I also remember that she was the one that introduced me to Christian music - and a love of Keith Green was born. Suddenly, my teenage world consisted of Keith, Amy Grant, David Meece, Michael W Smith and a myriad of others that I was listening too. And my cousin was teaching me there was more to this Jesus thing that going to church and praying.

I could see she had a real personal relationship with him although at the time I didn't fully understand what that meant. All I knew, was that Jesus, God, well, he was still my friend, and he was someone I wanted to grow to be more like.

I began going to youth - but youth back then was all about the boys, lol. I also got confirmed. As I grew older I took on a lot of resposibilities - I became youth president of our youth, I got involved with zone stuff, having a psoition on the zone exec. I led and organised (with others) hundreds of camps. In fact,  when I was in year 12, I remember attending 6 camps as a leader and three as a participant - that's *9* camps in year 12. Wow. I even organised with one other girl an entire state youth convention. They were such good times.

It was all about me growing and learning more about who Jesus meant to me and then being a role model to the younger people who God placed me there to lead. It was about never letting go despite all the crap we went through. 

When my dad died on Father's Day in yr 12 I was obviously devastated. Not only because he had passed away, but because he didn't believe - he had always accepted that us kids went to church and believed in God, but whenever I had tried to talk to him about it he waved me off. That last day of his life, our foster dad had taken us to Adelaide to see him. Dad H left us alone with our dad and while we were visiting, the JW's came and knocked. He waved them away and I remember my heart beating like crazy (I know now that was the Holy Spirit) bc it was the perfect opportunity to talk to my dad about my HOLY dad. But I chickened out. And that night he died.

It was all I could focus on. I had let my dad go to hell. I was so guilt ridden. However later the day after, I was speaking to our pastor and he told me that my dad had given his life to Jesus while he was in hospital jsut weeks before he died. I was overjoyed  - but still felt terrible that it hadn't been me who brought him to that point. However, I knew then, that he would be in heaven rejoicing and that's all I cared about. The relief was massive.

I continued my love for Jesus and my holy dad  - it jsut grew and grew. Once I moved to Adelaide, I started attending an awesome church (Para Vista Lutheran), found some amazing Godly people who were able to guide me through not only the horrible years of my illness, but taught me so much more about my Jesus and how to live a lfie worthy of his grace and love.

It was while I was at PV that I found my favourite bible verse and it has been my mantra ever since.

"Praise be to my God, the Father of my brother Jesus Christ who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly realms.... For he CHOSE me in Him before the world was even created, to be holy and blameless before him. In LOVE he ADOPTED ME as his child through Jesus... the the praise of his glorious grace which he gives without conditions to those he loves. In HIM we have redemption of our sins through Jesus' sacrifice of blood, for the forgiveness of our sins, i accordance with God's almighty grace.... In HIM we were also CHOSEN, having been predestined by God according to his awesome will and purpose for me and for the world." Ephesians 1:3-14 (paraphrased by Linda from NIV)

Notice some of those words? Chosen. Adopted. Child. Father. Love. They are all about family arn't they? It is saying that God chose Me. He chose YOU to be in his family. A family that was planned way before the world was created and that family included you! But not only that, he chose us to be holy too. Holy and blameless and he made this happen by giving his only Son Jesus to die on the cross, defeating Satan by rising again and thus fulfilling all the scriptures about him in the Old Testament of the Bible.

Why is this passage so incredibly important to me? I guess it's the fact that I have never felt like I belonged. I was always "The foster kid", "The cutter", "The one without a family", "The one in the papers", "The one with mental illness", "The aboriginal one" etc. No matter where I was (except maybe with the friends I grew up with), I always felt that distance between me and others. I always felt I never quite fit in.

Another thing is that I feel like I have had family taken away from me three times now - firstly, my real family - my dad passing away and being taken from my real siblings and mother (although Im glad it happened), then I lost my foster family, the long term family I lived with for 17 years. They basically dumped me and I struggled with identity ever since. THEN, I finally 'found' another family who promised they would never hurt me the way my foster family did (as they saw it happen), they loved me like their own, they introduced me to randoms and friends as another daughter and sister. They had captured me in the family web and I was convinced NOTHING would make me lose this family - and then they also dumped me.

I felt like every time I began to form an identity, a sense of belonging, it got stripped away from me. I was a lost lamb! Lost with noone to reach out too - except my Holy Father.

The major comfort for me through all my loss over my life time is this: The fact that I am Australian and more importantly the fact that GOD CHOSE ME! HE chose me and there is not one person on this earth that can take that away from me. 

Looking back over my life, I can see that I believed in him being my family from before I was baptised - from when I was that little 5 year old playing with blocks o that floor. Some part of me must have known that because I can remember always feeling comforted by the fact that I had a big brother that no one could mess with. I have always held strong to the promises of Ephesians but specifically that passage in chapter one. It's my all time favourite book and passage that my bible automatically opens to that page. It's been the biggest source of comfort for a girl who went from identity to identity, from family to family. The promise that God will never dump me, he will never build me up and then leave me. It's sooooo comforting. It gives me that belonging that no person on this earth could ever give me.

I think I will always struggle with that feeling of not quite belonging, with feeling a little apart from everyone around me. I know for a fact, I will never end that fruitless search for an earthly set of parents, but I can always hold tight to my faith and the Holy Father and brother who give me the comfort I need whenever I can remember to take it. Im hoping one day, it will be enough.

Love L
xxx

What the Cut????????

Well folks, today is THE day! A BIG day for me. A day to celebrate!

Today is my anniversary of 10 years being self-injury free. Wow!

Being such a big day for me about such a massive and yet secretive issue, I'd really like to use this as an opportunity to share a bit of my story and raise awareness of this secretive coping mechanism. So go get a cuppa, and sit down for a read inside my self-injury journey. <3

While Im near the beginning, I want to get a couple of si-housekeeping out of the way....

I want you to know that self injury can take many many forms. It can include but is not limited to the following: cutting, tearing, slicing, puncturing, burning, banging, hair pulling, skin picking, and in rare cases, amputation and death. 

Some debatable forms of si can include: eating disorders,alcohol and/or drug dependencies, tattooing and piercings.

There are many different names for self injury but the most common are: Self Injury (duh!), Self Harm & Self Mutilation.

What turns these actions into self injury? Taken from my paper "Self Injury, My Perspective",

The primary factor in determining whether a wound can be viewed as self-injury is the motive behind it. If it has been inflicted as a coping mechanism or a form of release from intense emotion, this is what makes it self-injury. Some young people might often see their friends doing it, so to be ‘cool’ they copy it. This isn’t generally classed as self-injury and is something that should be discouraged before it becomes a coping mechanism.

Something that self injury should not be confused with is attempted suicide. They are vastly different - one is usually a coping mechanism and the other is a way to end it all. While accidental suicide may happen with self injury it is absolutely NOT the intention of the self injurer.


Spoiler Alert. if you are not feeling safe today, bookmark this page and read it when you're in a better place. There IS a lot of mention of Self Injury.
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Ok, on with it!....

So, my journey through self-injury (si for short) began in 1998 on a day when my foster parents rejected me. It's a story that doesn't need to be shared right now. But it plunged me into a deep dark depression that lasted 5 years. I was being heavily supported through this time by my church family - and my pastors and their families in particular.

I remember the night I first cut. I was sitting on the floor of my loungeroom cutting out stencils (being the crafty girl i am) and I thought of scratching the surface of my skin with the craft knife - you know, like when you're a kid and you grab a stick and write on ur skin leaving red marks? At first it was nothing. Then I wondered what would happen if I scratched a bit harder, and before I knew it, I had a gash that needed stitches. In MY mind, it was curiosity - I used to always watch dad on the farm killing the sheep and I do remember wondering if my body under my skin looked the same.

I didn't tell anyone for a couple of days, but then one of my pastors came around to say goodbye as he was going on Long Service Leave. For some weird reason I showed it to him. I have no idea what I thought would happen, or why I showed him. I remember him saying quite roughly, "What are you doing? Is this your way of telling me not to leave?". Then, all of a sudden, everyone seemed to know. It wasn't my choice to make it public. I guess when I showed him, I unknowingly gave him permission to share my secret with the world?????

I still don't know why I really did it or why I showed him, but it was the first of many many cuts that I sadly made on my body.

Cutting for me fulfilled many purposes. It was initially a coping mechanism; a punishment; a reward; a way of dealing with intense emotions; a stress release but over time it turned into a guilty pleasure which then turned into an addiction.

People would ask me if it hurt and I would honestly reply that no it didn't. I had learnt that when you cut when you're emotionally charged, the adrenalin pumping through your body shuts off the nerve endings and instead creates a euphoric endorphin rush as the blades cuts your skin.

People often ask me why I did this to myself. Here are my reasons:

• I used to cut to punish those who had hurt me in my past - I simply cannot intentionally hurt others and so for me, it was a form of revenge. I took out my 'revenge' on myself instead of those people. 
• I cut when I felt bad, but I also cut as a reward for good things happening.
• I hurt me as self-punishment. If I stuffed up or did something wrong, the easy solution was to cut.
• I did it when I felt scared or lonely or fearful or angry. As the cuts deepened and the blood came to the surface, I felt incredible relief as, to me, the badness of who I was, 'bled out of me'.
• I si'ed for comfort. The feeling of going into the hospital to get stitches was always so comforting (if you got the right medical staff who were sympathetic to you) as they nurtured me - even if they were only paid to do it.
• It was also a form of self-nurturing, even though that might not make sense.
• It was a cry for help. Enough said.
• Cutting gave me a sense of control over a life that had spun waaaaay out on control. I could control my pain even if I could't control anything else.
• I cut to feel alive. As I have a Dissociative Disorder, cutting help me feel grounded to reality. The times when I was numb and dissociating were always my most dangerous times as I wasn't aware of what I was doing. These were always my most severe injuries - and in much greater numbers each time.
• Lastly, it was a safety/coping mechanism. It was important for me to know that I could rely on myself when I was in a difficult space. Knowing that I could use self-injury as a relief and a release became a safety mechanism for me. As soon as I made a cut, it felt like all the emotional pressure in my mind was released and dissolved into nothing. If I knew I could help myself in a crisis by cutting—even the tiniest bit, then I knew this meant I wouldn't be likely to try to hurt myself more than I needed to. I carried my ‘tools’ everywhere so that if need be, immediate release was available at all times, reducing my need for others to carry my burdens for me (unless of course, I hurt myself too deeply).

I know some of these reasons sound pretty far out and illogical, but remember, my head was sick. I had severe depression (which turned out to be Bipolar) and I had serious, serious issues I was dealing with.

I am so incredibly thankful to the people God appointed as my support network. There was a bible study group (mentioned in another post) who I will forever love deeply for their love, care and commitment with me, no matter what I did (I think I freaked them out a few times, not surprisingly tho). There was also the amazing staff of my church home including the pastors who walked with me every step of the way, as well as random church friends who showered me with love. 

The professional support network I had also played a massive part in my recovery from SI. My Christian counsellor, who was phenomenal. She always understood it took more than prayers to heal me, but also understood it took more than therapy & medication. The combination of prayer AND therapy AND medication was the perfect fit for me to move forward. We really learnt how to tackle this whole self injury thing together as it was a new thing for her too. What a team we made!
She is an incredible lady - and I am honoured to call her a friend nowdays. <3

I also had a psychiatrist who monitored my medications AND my amazing awesome psychologist who did a lot of DBT & CBT therapy with me as well as the staff at my local hospital's psych ward. They were all wonderful.

There was also my online support network. I was heavily involved in the BUS (Bodies Under Siege) online support group run by a lady called Deb Martinson. It was a place for fellow si'ers to come together, share ideas of hiding scars, offering support, explanations of medications, signs and symptoms etc. I developed some incredible friendships and without the support of these other people who were also self-injurers I honestly don't know if I would have 'made it'.

Do you know what? Through this group, I am actually one of a number of case studies in a book by Jan Sutton called 'Healing the Hurt Within'. How exciting to know parts of me are in a published book.

What was my worst cutting moment? Did I ever think I'd cut too much? 

Spoiler alert here for graphic story
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I remember the worst time I had cut. For the first time, it really scared me and stopped me cutting for about three months.
I was sitting on a bean bag in my house and had the teli on. I had been eyeing off a vein/artery on my upper leg for literally months. It was tantalizing; seductive, and that night I decided it was time to try it out.

I sat there with a container to collect my blood (so I didn't have to clean up later) and put pressure on that vein. It suddenly almost 'popped' and the blade cut through my skin and all of a sudden it was on like donkey kong! My blood started spurting in great gushes. The container was no where near enough to hold it all. I ended up filling three containers (equiv of about 1 1/2 ltrs I'm guessing) and managed to drag myself, the phone and another container out onto the front porch where I rang 000.

An ambulance was on its way. I was fading in and out of consciousness as the loss of blood was ever so much more than I had anticipated. I was scared. I tried to get up to go inside to get jeans to wear but every time I tried to move my leg, the spurts of blood just sprayed EVERYwhere. I gave up and sat in my blood-soaked t-shirt and underwear. 

I don't remember much of that trip at all except waking up at one point and we were on our way to emergency. I also remember vaguely, being wheeled into emergency and hearing that someone had stabbed themselves by accident with my knife. I felt absolutely awful. Bc even though I knew my blood was 'clean', they didn't and that poor person would feel horrible until she got blood tests back. The next thing I remember is waking up to having 12 staples in my leg and yelling at them to give me anesthetic.

End of spoiler
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I won't go into any more detail here bc I figure I've already completely grossed you out and I am sorry if that is the case. I guess this story lets people out there know to not mess with this stuff. I could have died (and people have been known to die from going to far). To this day I can't remember if I had blood transfusions or not. I remember talk of it, but have no idea if it happened. I think they said I lost over 2 litres of blood. All I know, is that is scared me a LOT and I didn't do it for 3 months after that.

Brief spoiler
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Another experience I had with cutting.... and this might seem really weird to some of you.... bc of my association with blood (and the fact that is was Jesus' blood that was shed for us - for ME) I almost choked once when I went for communion.

When you're not in the best head space, things go into your mind in really weird ways. My dear friend (and Pastor at the time) Peter, was serving me the wine at communion, saying the words that go with it ("Take and drink, this is my blood shed for you" - we believe that Jesus body and blood is what we partake of in communion). I had the mouthful of wine in my mouth and for some reason, my brain got stuck on the word blood. I couldn't swallow as I honestly believe at that moment in time my mouth was full of blood. It was weird. I almost choked and the look on Peter's face was shock. I walked back to my chair but I couldn't swallow. It took about 10 minutes of talking myself into swallowing that wine. All I could think of was that as blood it was gonna clot in my mouth soon if I didn't swallow it while it was runny. How gross to think that with such a precious gift as Jesus' blood. Blood played such a massive part and had huge symbolism for me through my cutting years.

End spoiler
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I often get asked how did I stop self injury. It was quite simple really. 

I had cut myself one night and was waiting in A&E for stitches. I knew (after 5 years of visiting) that I had to bring a book, a pillow, phone charger and a drink with me to the hospital. I was sitting there reading the book I chose. It was a non-fiction book called A Bright Red Scream and is about self injury. I was rereading this book for the gazillionth time and was near the end. The chapter I was reading was about a hospital in Chicago where there is an entire wing dedicated to self injury. It explained what happened in there, the daily events, the therapy on offer etc. 

My thoughts on it? "How utterly unfair! Why can't we have one of those here????" And then.... the penny dropped!

I didn't need a hospital in another country to provide for me the supports that I needed. I had the professional support, I had the friendships, I had the support of my own network, I had the hospital down the road if I needed it. I had every single thing that chapter spoke of - only it wasn't done up in a neat little package bundled together with a ribbon on top. It was all around me, in an informal way. It made me realise I had the power to change things for MYself. I could do this. God had given me every resource needed.

Right then and there I decided that it was enough! And I stopped cold turkey. Just like that!

I have fallen off the wagon a couple of times about two and a half years ago, but when I did try to cut, it just didn't do it for me anymore. There was no release of the emotional pressure. I did feel frustrated at times as the only way that worked fast and immediately previously, didn't work anymore. But what it also meant, was that I had all new ways to deal with that pressure. I had healthy coping strategies and I could do it. 


For me, about half to three quarters of the way through my self injury, something about it changed. It turned from a coping mechanism into a real honest to goodness addiction. It became something that I got a high from - in the same way that I assume gamblers, drug addicts, alcoholics get when they do their 'drug of choice'. It became a massive endorphin rush and while a part of me begged to stop the cutting, another part of me thrived on the high that it gave me. Those endorphins were out of control. Some argue that it's not an addiction while others argue it could be. All I know is that for me it definitely turned into one.  The sight of the blood wud get me high, stitches wud get me high, almost anything associated with it would give me that feeling. So when I went cold turkey, it was a shock to the system a bit, but maybe the bigger shock was that once I'd made up my mind, that was it. DONE!

As mentioned earlier in this post, I have written a 34 page paper with the intention of reaching out to those professional people who deal with self injury at a grassroots level. I presented it in partnership with my (now) former counsellor all over Adelaide (to Social Workers, Youth Workers, Counsellors, even a school etc) as a Professional Development Seminar to rave reviews. We even presented it at TheMHS Australasian Conference which wa s a real honour (paid for by the government mental health, yay). 

I am looking to get it published, so any ideas on how to do it would be AWEsome (help, how on earth do I do this???). I have often passed on copies to people I meet who need that extra support in understanding self injury (and mental health issues in general), and strategies to help cope with the intense emotions in healthy rational ways. After all, with education comes knowledge, and with knowledge comes power and with power comes understanding whic all equals greater compassion - that's what it's all about for me. If YOU are interested in obtaining a half edited copy, let me know.

Another question I get asked a lot is would I ever consider getting the scars on my arms removed.

My answer is that while I hate how they look, I honestly don't think I would, even if I had the money too. For starters, every single scar has it's own story. Of course, being so many I can't remember every single one, but they are there. It also symbolises the hard work that many people put in to helping me recover. Also, if I deleted those scars, I would feel like Im 'deleting' the hard work I did to move through the trauma and darkness and it's that which builds character, knowledge, wisdom, compassion. I would be deleting that which has made me, ME.

But the most important thing for me is this: if I got rid of my scars, how are others going to know they are not alone?

Let me share this little story with you.... When I was studying at TAFE about 3 years after I gave up cutting, I happened to take off my jumper. I got a lot of surprised looks and realised I hadn't told anyone about my cutting yet. I told the friends I had made and after that class, a young girl (maybe 18 y/o) came up to me and quietly asked if I really did cut myself. When i told her that I used to do it, she told me that she did it too and had never told a single person. 
Wow! I was blown away by her trust in sharing that with me - and it made it clear to me that I can use my arms as a witness and hope for people who struggle with these demons the way I did. There is no WAY Im getting rid of my scars if it means it can help break the secrecy of self injury for even one person. And that is that! 

Of course, there are some people who I worry that my scars will give them unhealthy ideas, but if they ask me about them, I will make sure they know it was a really unwise decision on my part and not a road you want to go down. (And I have had to do this a few times, esp when they are people who I know are in a bad space).

If you happen to know someone who does injure themselves or is speaking about it, can I just give you a little bit of advise from a cutter who is 'in remission' or 'sober'?

• If you have no idea what you're doing, let ur friend know, so you can work on it together.
• Build a relationship of trust with them - so important.
• Have a knowledge of first aid.
• Do some research around self injury
• Have some strategies to offer as an alternate way of dealing with intense emotions.
• Find the balance of discussing their destructive behaviour with times where you can have fun, lighten the mood.
• If you can help, please do!
• Do not go hide sharp objects. It's what the drs advise and it's a crap piece of advice! If someone wants to hurt themselves, they will find any, ANY way to do it. You will be stunned at what can be used to cause injury.
• Be respectful, honest and work along side the person, don't have a saviour complex.
• Set appropriate boundaries
• Know your own limits
• Take time for yourself!!!!

There is one last thing that I really want to share with you. Yeah, it's another 'God-thing'. I can't help myself......

When the movie The Passion of the Christ was released, I had a massive wake up call (as if I needed another one). It was after I had stopped cutting (I think), and I was watching that movie, crying along with everyone else in that cinema. It came to the part where Jesus is flogged mercilessly. As those flogging tools ripped the skin from his flesh I saw that what was left were many wounds that looked exactly like my arms. The shock of that realisation hit me like a thunderbolt.

Tears flooded me anew as I literally felt God say gently to me "See my child, you didn't need to do that to yourself bc my Son went through it for you so that you didn't have too".

It was the most bittersweet, heart wrenching, grace-giving thing I've ever experienced. I think I cried all night from the grief of that message. 
And every time I see that movie, I can feel the pain he must have felt as I see the gaping wounds that MY knife made on his beautiful body.

I could literally write about cutting for years and years, but Ill leave it now. I hope you have learnt something that could touch you or someone near you in a positive way. Thank you for reading my anniversary post and celebrating along with me.

Much love
L xoxo



End Note:

I really want to emphasise that I am not glorifying self injury - not at all. I am merely sharing my story of learning, pain and hope with the wish that someone out there will feel less alone in their own struggles. I also write this hoping that you, the reader, have learnt something that will give you a little more compassion when spending time with a 'cutter' whether you know they hurt themselves or not. 

Some of the things I have spoken of here are actually in my paper "Self Injury - My Perspective". It covers many topics including: The cycle of self injury; what did/did not help me; strategies to deal with intense emotions; maintaining my decision to be free of si; resources and comments here and there from my counsellor.

Don't let this destructive behaviour be a secret anymore. 

Speak it out, raise awareness, be vocal, be passionate!

L xo

Post-Mental Health Week!

Hi there friends,

I wanted to write about World Mental Health Week which was last week. I just got so busy with work, so here is my belated post on it - I thought I might just write some general tids and bits here - bc you know me, I've gone into lots of detail on other posts.

Most of you know that I write a lot on mental health having experienced a lot of mental un-health in my adult life.

I guess Mental Health Week is all about raising awareness of mental health, mental illness and looking after yourself. I am so vocal about this stuff anyway and a big part of the purpose of my blog is to raise awareness of it, to educate you and to advocate for those who don't have a voice.

What is Mental Health? 

Mental health is just like your physical health - but for your brain! We place so much focus and attention on making sure our bodies are healthy. We try to eat the right foods and do all sorts of different exercises ranging from zumba, running, sports, gym etc to keep in shape. But how on earth do you keep your brain in shape?

Some of the best ways to keep your body in shape also apply to your brain. Did you know that getting the right amount of sleep can balance out your moods? As can eating fresh fruit and veggies (as opposed to artificial colours, flavours and preservatives)? Or getting enough exercise in the day (like even 'just' walking, just to raise those endorphins and tire you out so you can sleep).

Surprising isn't it? That the very things you would do to stay in shape physically also benefit your mind.

I love to challenge my mind with logic puzzles to keep it fit and active. Games like Sudoku are great at stretching your brain muscle. I wud urge you to give some a go - you might be stunned how how much more info you retain by training your brain! There are even brain training games on gaming consoles nowdays, give it a go!

So, it all sounds quite simple doesn't it? Wrong!

What if we add in factors like stress, depression, loss, illness etc.? It all becomes just a bit more complicated then. It is amazing, but not in a good way, the effect that stress can have on your life - your body can break down to the point of actual death if you have prolonged stress. Illness that goes on and on can also wear you down. I was sick with a horrible throat virus in August, it lasted the full month and it wore me down mentally so much bc no matter what I did, or how many anti-biotics I took, nothing was getting that virus outa me. It's horrible. I ended up crying a lot from the sheer frustration of not being able to shake that bug. It made me weak, tired, listless, confused and really sensitive. It just plain wore me down!

What if you have a mental illness. What's that? A mental illness you say? Yes, just as there is physical health and illness, we have mental  health and illness.

You have probably heard of most of the major or more well known mental illnesses - ranging from:
Anxiety disorders (Obsessive Compulsive Disorders, Panic Attacks, Agoraphobia etc)
Eating disorders (Anorexia, Bulimia etc)
Mood disorders (like Major Depression)
Personality disorders (like Borderline Personality Disorder)
Psychotic illnesses (schitzo-effective disorder, psychosis)
Dissociative disorders (DID, DD Not otherwise Specified etc)
Aaaaaand the two biggies (Bipolar Affective Disorder and Schitzophrenia)....

Not to mention things that don't technically have names - like self harm, but often get slotted into other illnesses and disorders. Whew! What a list, and that's only a few of them. There must be nearly as many mental illnesses as there are physical ones.

Mental illnesses can take a lot longer to diagnose than a lot of physical/medical illnesses as we are dealing - usually, with not only genetics but environment and most of the time, trauma. If you have experienced some kind of trauma as a child  you might not get the onset of an illness till your teens or well into adult-hood. I know for me, I only got correctly diagnosed in my mid 20's, but when my dr and I traced it back, it seems I first got my Bipolar (mania) episodes when I was 16 and as a result of many and much trauma as a child. 

Not all people with mental illnesses experience bad stuff, sometimes it's purely genetic but generally there is a trigger of sorts - whether it be extreme stress, loss of a loved one, abuse etc.

Enough with general info (I know I left it short (for me, haha) but I really want to move on from here now......)

Let me ask you something. Are you one of those people that give a generic 'fine' when asked how you are?

I get asked that a lot (as do most people) and you should see the look on their faces when I actually tell them how I am. Nowdays I sometimes do it for shock value.... or my own personal enjoyment to see their faces.....But whether positive or negative, it's important to be honest. 

The truth is (and I was reminded of this on a FB image tonight) that not only do we give the generic 'fine' but when it's asked, the asker is not looking for more than 'fine'. Have you seen the other person's face when you tell them how you really are? It can be quite amusing - if you're in the right frame of mind. People just don't know how to respond to realness and transparency.

Do you find yourself being the kind of person who asks the question just for something to say? Or do u mean it? Next time you go to ask someone "how u goin'?", first take a look at their body language; are they looking bright, have a straight posture, be walking with a bounce? Or do they look a bit defeated, be slumped, walk slow, talk slower than normal? Or do they even look tired? Then ask them how they are, and really mean it. If they give you that generic answer, ask them again. Trust me, that person may still give you a fine, but deep down in their core, they get a tiny message saying that you care. It might be hard for them to accept, but if you keep doing it, eventually they will get the message that you really do care. It took me over 5 years of fighting the love from friends before I finally started to accept the fact that there were people out there who did actually want to know how I was.

Sometimes I can get into trouble for asking them how they really are - but sometimes that's because I say "You look really tired", "You don't look so good" etc. but you know what? It's usually taken in good humour (and a lot of laughs if I got it wrong) and it DOES let the other person know that you are really noticing THEM!

Im such a massive believer in letting other people know they are worthwhile.

I also found this story below on facebook tonight that I'd like to share. It kinda relates to the above and is how I'm choosing to finish my post tonight. It was a friend's status and Im assuming she copied it from somewhere, but it struck a cord so much that I wanted to share it here in the hopes that it will make you think about how you talk to others, how you respond to them - their voice, their words but mostly their body language.....
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Spoiler Suicide
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SHARING FROM A FRIEND....

Wanna kill yourself? Imagine this. 

You come home from school one day. You’ve had yet another horrible day. You’re just ready to give up. So you go to your room, close the door, and take out that suicide note you’ve written and rewritten over and over and over. You take out those razor blades, and cut for the very last time. You grab that bottle of pills and take them all

. Laying down, holding the letter to your chest, you close your eyes for the very last time. 

A few hours later, your little brother knocks on your door to come tell you dinner's ready. You don’t answer, so he walks in. All he sees is you laying on your bed, so he thinks you’re asleep. He tells your mom this. Your mom goes to your room to wake you up. She notices something is odd. She grabs the paper in your hand and reads it. Sobbing, she tries to wake you up. She’s screaming your name. Your brother, so confused, runs to go tell Dad that “Mommy is crying and sissy won’t wake up.” Your dad runs to your room. He looks at your mom, crying, holding the letter to her chest, sitting next to your lifeless body. It hits him, what’s going on, and he screams. He screams and throws something at the wall. And then, falling to his knees, he starts to cry. Your mom crawls over to him, and they sit there, holding each other, crying. 

The next day at school, there’s an announcement. The principal tells everyone about your suicide. It takes a few seconds for it to sink in, and once it does, everyone goes silent. Everyone blames themselves. Your teachers think they were too hard on you. Those mean popular girls, they think of all the things they’ve said to you. That boy that used to tease you and call you names, he can’t help but hate himself for never telling you how beautiful you really are. Your ex boyfriend, the one that you told everything to, that broke up with you.. He can’t handle it. He breaks down and starts crying, and runs out of the school. Your friends? They’re sobbing too, wondering how they could never see that anything was wrong, wishing they could have helped you before it was too late. And your best friend? She’s in shock. She can’t believe it. She knew what you were going through, but she never thought it would get that bad… Bad enough for you to end it. She can’t cry, she can’t feel anything. She stands up, walks out of the classroom, and just sinks to the floor. Shaking, screaming, but no tears coming out. 

It’s a few days later, at your funeral. The whole town came. Everyone knew you, that girl with the bright smile and bubbly personality. The one that was always there for them, the shoulder to cry on. Lots of people talk about all the good memories they had with you, there were a lot. Everyone’s crying, your little brother still doesn’t know you killed yourself, he’s too young. Your parents just said you died. It hurts him, a lot. You were his big sister, you were supposed to always be there for him. Your best friend, she stays strong through the entire service, but as soon as they start lowering your casket into the ground, she just loses it. She cries and cries and doesn’t stop for days. 

It’s two years later. The whole school talks to a counselor/therapist at least once a week. Your teachers all quit their job. Those mean girls have eating disorders now. That boy that used to tease you cuts himself. Your ex boyfriend doesn’t know how to love anymore and just sleeps around with girls. Your friends all go into depression. Your best friend? She tried to kill herself. She didn’t succeed like you did, but she tried… your brother? He finally found out the truth about your death. He self harms, he cries at night, he does exactly what you did for years leading up to your suicide. Your parents? Their marriage fell apart. Your dad became a workaholic to distract himself from your death. Your mom got diagnosed with depression and just lays in bed all day. 

People care. You may not think so, but they do. Your choices don’t just effect you. They effect everyone. Don’t end your life, you have so much to live for. Things can’t get better if you give up. I’m here for absolutely anyone that needs to talk, no matter who you are. Even if we’ve NEVER talked before, I’m here for you. ♥ pls like if you read this thanks

Love and Peace
L xoxo

My Think Pinking!

Today I am writing a little post on Breast Cancer to honour a friend.... and because I want to upload a photo of a card I made to a few different online competitions

I have made this card in honour of a dear beautiful lady who lost her life to cancer. Please, read on to hear a bit more about her.

So here is the little card I made. Im quite new to using Copic Markers but I love their air brushed effect when you get it right.

On this card, I used Copics to colour in the Prima stamped image of a girl with the flower. I also coloured over silver brads near the verse. I also used Spellbinders, Tim Holtz Peeled Paint,  Frayed Burlap and Walnut Stain inks, Perfect Pearls Pink Bublegum Mist, Kaiser Lipstick Ink, Viva Precious Metal Colour in Pink and Adirondack Dauber in Snowcap.

I hope you like it.

Now, speaking of breast cancer, I have known a few people who have battled with this horrible illness, but none have touched my life in the way this precious daughter of God did.

I would just like to honour a dear friend of mine who passed away only a few short years ago. She was a lady who really took me in - well, her whole family embraced me and supported me through some really dark times. She was so special and I really want to acknowledge her life here.

Fayesy

Faye - or Fayesey as she was affectionately known, was one of the most beautiful people I have ever known. 

Not only did she fully love and support me, she was just a very positive person who always looked on the brighter side of things. Fayesey had her down times but despite that, she always had a positive spin on everything. Not only that, but she was one of the funniest people I've known. No matter who you were, you could always rely on this dear friend for a real belly laugh.

Faysey and her hubby Rexy were part of a bible study group (FFF) who really took me in in my darkest times, when I was on a self-destructive path. This entire group showed me God's true *unconditional* love, their faithfulness in Him and they really proved they had stickability to me no matter what I did or how I acted (and I reckon I tested them at times). The Christmas        wind-ups I would attend always showed me their incredible generosity to a wayward young adult who was so lost. This group of people will *always* hold a very special and dear place in my heart and Fayesey played a big part in that.

I remember one time, when I was in the midst of my dark depression, Fayesey and another dear friend of hers and mine, Muff, took me out for tea, just the three of us. And then we went and saw a movie (which was another experience in it'self as we were the ONLY ones in the theater. Gee, we talked so much through that movie, lol). I don't think I've laughed so much as that night, ever.

Or the Christmas where her family invited me for the day - as I usually had no where to go. 
Now THAT was a Christmas I will always remember. Her entire family has always made me feel so welcome, and again, it was one Christmas that was a shining light among many not-so--great Christmases - where I got to experience laughs (many), and a real warmth and friendship between and with her and her family. It was a special Christmas for me and one who's memories I treasure.

Then there was the one or two times when I went to the footy with her and/or others (Gavin). I LOVED sitting next to her as she was soooo passionate about our Adelaide Crows. Sitting with her, I think I spent more time laughing at her cheering and banter than I did actually barracking and drooling at our boys, myself. Lol.

Fayesey's battle with breast cancer was a long one and I (as a lot of people were) was devastated when it finally took  her. But at least we can celebrate a life fully lived. A life who touched so many others, who made us feel like the sun was always shining no matter what, and a faith in her Lord God that was steadfast and sure.

I will always love you Faysey. I think of you often and miss you every year and I thank God that He gave you two beautiful girls so that your spirit can live on in them, and in your gorgeous grand-daughters.

<3
http://www.linkupforpink.com/

<br><a href="http://www.linkupforpink.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1216.photobucket.com/albums/dd362/TBABCeleste/Badge.png" alt='www.linkupforpink.com/' border=0 /></a><br /><br>


http://flourishes.org/2012/10/its-time-to-think-pink/


http://copicoz.blogspot.com.au/

My TWLOHA Story!

Warning: If your'e not in a good place right now, bookmark this page and read it when you are feeling stronger as it may trigger you. Thanks.

So today is World Suicide Prevention Day! 

Suicide is something I've had a bit to do with in my adult life and I've been reflecting on it today as I've watched a doco on Foxtel about it, and of course, it's been all over Facebook!

I have so many thoughts on suicide - some that contradict each other. But let's start with some facts:

Each year 65,000 Australians attempt to take their own lives (There are on average 130,000 total deaths per year in Australia) – of these attempts – Australia loses approximately 2,500 loved ones.

Nearly all suicides are preventable. This World Suicide Prevention Day, take the time to learn about suicide, recognise the signs and help to reduce the stigma associated with help-seeking – you may save a life one day.

http://www.wspd.org.au/ (World Suicide Prevention Day)

I have seen suicide from two sides of the coin - from attempting a number of times, to the other side where I am what some call a 'Suicide Survivor' - being a person affected by someone else's suicide.

So, for me, I had severe severe depression and before it was actually diagnosed as being Bipolar, I was in the darkest place imaginable. Years later, I was told by some hospital staff who had seen and supported me through that time, that I was someone with the severest depression they had ever seen and to this day they are stunned I am still alive.

I had 5 years of that horrible dark depression and throughout that time I was hurting myself a lot. I was a 'hardcore self injurer'. One time I injured myself so badly that I almost died and needed blood transfusions.

That was accidental. My suicide attempts were not.

Many say that attempting suicide (su for short) is a way to get attention. Sometimes I agree with that but I also know it's not just about a cry for help.

When you are in such a deep darkness sometimes the only way to find the light is to reach for it with a knife, or by jumping or swallowing something. When you feel so incredibly hopeless that there is literally no other option that you can see, it's easy to think that ending this life is an option.

I remember that feeling. I felt like there was always a constant scream stuck in my throat. No matter who I went to for help, that scream, silent though it was, just kept getting bigger. My mind would get fuzzy, my thoughts confused, the lack of light in my life just blacker and blacker. 
I would turn to people and them, not understanding my desperation would palm me off, dismissing my pain and anguish as 'not that bad'.

If it really wasn't that bad, how come I couldn't pull myself out of it? No matter how hard I tried. I went to intensive counselling once a week. I went to my psychiatrist and psychologist once a week. I saw my pastor two-three times a week and yet the darkness wouldn't budge.

There were times when I wanted to end it - not for good, but just to quiet down my head. To still the thoughts and bad voices just for a few minutes. Can you imagine, really imagine what it's like to have voices (thoughts) yelling at you constantly saying things like: "You're so pathetic", "You're bad", "You deserve the things that have happened to you", "God has given up on you so why don't you give up?" and it went on and on.

I remember three times when I attempted suicide - by various methods which Im not going into here Well, those times, in hindsight, were more a cry for help. I felt that I was just a nuisance to so many people and yet I was desperately trying to keep my head above water in the stormy seas of my life and really not succeeding. 

I remember one time, a doctor in emergency who was pumping my stomach after an overdose as I was going in and out of consciousness, like a far away voice, telling me that if I *really* wanted to kill myself I should have taken such and such drugs. Idiot! Maybe he thought I was so out of it that I wouldn't know what he was saying. But of course, it was the one thing I heard and so I began stockpiling!

Another time, I remember trying so hard and nothing would happen and me being so incredibly angry that it wasn't working. I always took an easy way out - and now I think it's because I didn't want something truly permanent as I just want help.

The one time I was deathly serious about it? 

I was at church. I remember telling myself it was the last time I would have Holy Communion.... but should I have it knowing what I was gonna do at home? It was my final goodbyes to those I loved. The ones I couldn't see that night, I composed letters too. It was actually very ritualistic, the whole night. I remember thinking that I was gonna confront Jesus (assuming I went to heaven) and ask him why he had let all these bad things happen to me. And I remember my joy and excitement - yes, real and genuine excitement, that I would see my dad who had passed away when I was 17. I remember being happy, and relieved that I had finally made the decision to really go. I was looking forward to getting home so I could put my plans into action and be o my way to my real home!. 

I was deadly serious!

The 'problem' was. One of the pastors clicked that something was up and stopped me.... just in time. I remember being soooo angry. So cheated! And that scream in my throat overwhelmed me.

I had so many strategies to try when I felt suicidal. Not many helped.... although this one did, sort of: I had some very supportive amazing friends at the time who gave me a photo of their 4 kids. They were like little brother and sisters to me. They said "Imagine what we would have to tell the kids if you succeeded. Every time you want to do this, look at this photo and think of their faces and how they will feel". It was hard but it was one strategy that helped me hold off.

The one thing I have learnt since that time, is that when you are truly determined, you keep it to yourself. Each of the other times I attempted, I let people know  - so I could be rescued. But that one time. I thought I was so careful in HOW I said my goodbyes to not let anyone realise. But this guy knew me too well. And now, Im glad he did. Because I wouldn't be sitting here writing to you to help you understand this side of the suicide coin.

Im not condoning this kind of behaviour. I have learnt there are other ways of dealing with things. But when you are truly in that dark space and there really seems no other options, I completely understand why people make this decision.

On the other hand.....

Having been 'in the mental health system' for years, I have seen a few dear friends succeed where I did not. And it's so sad. I often think that if they had just hung on that little bit longer, maybe there would have been a spark of hope that captured their hearts and kept them grasping on.

My nephew's dad ended his life when my nephew was 3 (he's now 15). I barely knew him. I've had limited contact with my sister, but my heart used to cry in such anguish when my dear 6 year old nephew would tell me his dad killed himself when he was 3. What 6 year old needs to even KNOW that? I often wonder how my nephew copes without his dad. Does he feel like me, where every birthday, every Christmas, every Father's day just feels bleak without that father figure there? My dad died from heart disease, but his died bc he wanted too. I just think of all the lost memories between him and my dear nephew. It breaks my heart.

Probably the person closest to me that attempted suicide (and thankfully did not succeed) was a past boyfriend. He also has mental health issues and it was in the first 6 months of our 4 year relationship. Just around Christmas time. I was staying at his place, he was in a really bad space and even though I had gone to bed, he was still up. Next thing I knew, it was early morning and he had crashed into the room where I was sleeping and literally dropped onto me. I will never forget the feeling of being woken to find your bf unconscious.

I remember slapping his face trying to wake him up. I remember ringing the ambulance and then racing upstairs to his folks (they lived on the floor above him) to tell them what had happened and bc I was, to put it plainly, freaking out! 

I can still hear his dad say "Oh no, not again!". The next hour was a bit of a blur. They wouldn't let me come to the hospital bc my foot was in plaster and I was soooo frustrated. I was frustrated bc his family's attitude was so blaze - their opinion was, he was just doing it for attention and he's done it before, he'll keep doing it again and again. I was soooo incredibly angry at them. 

My opinion, is that no matter WHY a person tries to end their life, something has happened in their head to think there is no other way out. They need to be supported not left to fend for themselves. I spent days upon days at the hospital with him. First in the main hospital while he recovered and then in the psych ward while his mind was still in mass confusion.

I have to admit though, after a few days the anger set in for me. I was sooo angry at him for doing this to me. Why now? Why the night I was there? Was it because of me? I had so many questions and for the first time I could see why people said suicide is the coward's way out. I fact, that phrase 'Coward's way out', makes me confused. I totally think that way but then I remember those feelings, and it didn't feel cowardice at all - it felt relief to leave behind all the crap.

There are times when I think about that night with my then-boyfriend even now, when I feel little surges of anger that he did what he did - however, my anger is mixed with compassion bc clearly, I have been in that place - many times. For him, it was a cry for help, as he left a list of the medications he had taken - and to be honest, the dosages were not lethal at all. But it didn't stop the fact that he wanted out of this life. It didn't change the fact that he truly thought it was finished for him. It also didn't change the fact, that no matter how *I* felt, what was important was supporting HIM. Being there for HIM. And doing what HE needed in order to recover and move forward in his life. It's hard to stay angry at someone when you can see their point of view.

Now, I want to take you back to the top of this post. From the website link - 

All Suicide IS Preventable.

It might not feel like it and it is definitely not an easy road, but there are always places you can go, people to reach out to, places where you will be listened too. You don't need to go down this road. It's an awful, bumpy, dark road that I wouldn't wish on anyone.

Find a counsellor/therapist; a psychologist; a pastor; a mentor; a trusted friend or even your GP. Tell them what is going on in your head. Make sure you don't leave without telling them you have these destructive thoughts. Visit websites, find online support groups (these literally kept me alive at times). Visit community health centres. There IS help available. It just takes a bit of work finding it.

If you are not the person who is feeling like ending your life, but someone who is affected bc of someone else - a 'suicide survivor', you will also have so so many thoughts and feelings that need to be processed in a healthy way - you too, need to see someone professionally. That doco I watched today said that people who are 'survivors' are 9 times more likely to die from suicide than the general population. That is pretty scary if you ask me.

So please, I implore you, if this post has touched you and made your heart beat faster bc it's about you, go find someone to talk too. Talk to ME if you have too. Leave a comment and a way I can find you. Comments on here don't go public without my permission so if you need to, leave your email address or Facebook name. Ill find you.

There was a movement started a few years ago - one that I am an avid supporter of: To Write Love On Her Arms (TWLOHA). This is what their facebook page says:

To Write Love On Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for those struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery. 

And from their actual website:

The vision is that we actually believe these things…

You were created to love and be loved.  You were meant to live life in relationship with other people, to know and be known. You need to know that your story is important and that you're part of a bigger story.  You need to know that your life matters.

We live in a difficult world, a broken world.  My friend Byron is very smart - he says that life is hard for most people most of the time.  We believe that everyone can relate to pain, that all of us live with questions, and all of us get stuck in moments.  You need to know that you're not alone in the places you feel stuck. 

We all wake to the human condition.  We wake to mystery and beauty but also to tragedy and loss.  Millions of people live with problems of pain.  Millions of homes are filled with questions – moments and seasons and cycles that come as thieves and aim to stay.  We know that pain is very real.  It is our privilege to suggest that hope is real, and that help is real. 

You need to know that rescue is possible, that freedom is possible, that God is still in the business of redemption.  We're seeing it happen.  We're seeing lives change as people get the help they need.  People sitting across from a counselor for the first time.  People stepping into treatment.  In desperate moments, people calling a suicide hotline.  We know that the first step to recovery is the hardest to take.  We want to say here that it's worth it, that your life is worth fighting for, that it's possible to change. 

Beyond treatment, we believe that community is essential, that people need other people, that we were never meant to do life alone. 

The vision is that community and hope and help would replace secrets and silence.  

The vision is people putting down guns and blades and bottles. 

The vision is that we can reduce the suicide rate in America and around the world.

The vision is that we would learn what it means to love our friends, and that we would love ourselves enough to get the help we need.

The vision is better endings.  The vision is the restoration of broken families and broken relationships.  The vision is people finding life, finding freedom, finding love.  The vision is graduation, a Super Bowl, a wedding, a child, a sunrise.  The vision is people becoming incredible parents, people breaking cycles, making change.  

The vision is the possibility that your best days are ahead.  

The vision is the possibility that we're more loved than we'll ever know.  

The vision is hope, and hope is real.

You are not alone, and this is not the end of your story.

Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/towriteloveonherarms/info

Website: http://www.twloha.com/

So the above picture is my TWLOHA effort for today. I placed the word LOVE over some of the scars on my wrist. In the very place, I tried to take my own life. Love really did replace that darkness with Hope.

On another Facebook event, we were encouraged to light a candle in the window in memory of those who have passed on, and those struggling with it now. The candle at the top and bottom of my post are the candles *I* lit. It was actually a healing thing for me to do, given all my 'experience' with suicide.

Lastly, I just wanted to share with you how I came out of my darkness.

It all lies in the word HOPE!

I honestly and truly believe that without hope life is dead anyway. I got my hope back from my heavenly Father. I was able to grasp hold of His hand when it got too hard by listening to the people He placed in my life. The wise people that supported me through my darkness. He helped me develop a support network of people that I couldn't trust, when I couldn't trust HIM!
I know there are probably many of you who don't share my faith but if you are struggling, I would urge you to give Jesus a go. Because it's through him that we have hope.

Lots of heartfelt love
L xo

Some other links for you to check out:

World Suicide Prevention Day 2012
http://www.wspd.org.au/

Out of the Shadows (Lifeline)
http://www.outoftheshadows.org.au

Self Injury: You Are Not the Only One
http://www.palace.net/llama/selfinjury/

Light a Candle FB page
http://www.facebook.com/events/216775405117051/220798328048092/?comment_id=220813171379941&notif_t=event_mall_reply

Sane Australia
http://www.sane.org/