I’ve Become a Parent... of Sorts

Hi guys,

Im back again after a massive unplanned hiatus. All the laptops in our place died and around the same time we had some housing issues. Well a dear friend of ours gave us a second hand laptop recently and so Im baaaaaack!

Yet again, a LOT has happened since I last shared my life with you. 

In June Mike and I got a new housemate - another Mike! This Mike used to also live at Recovery Support Inc - where 'my Mike' used to live but later than Mike...

Ok, for the purposes of not confusing you, from here on Mike B is called Finn, and the other Mike is called Preston – his last name.

Preston also has some disabilities so I have become carer for him as well as Finn. It has definitely been a huge learning curve for me as I have in essence become ‘mum’ to both.

Finn seemed to regress a little in his behavior and when I ask him occasionally, “How old do you think u are inside?” he often says any age between 13-18. Which is kinda where the two of them are at mentally. It makes me smile tho.

Having Preston here has brought me lots of new challenges as I have had to come to a realization that he has been shoved from pillar to post and has been rejected a lot, not to mention is rather institutionalized and jaded as far as life goes. He gets in trouble constantly and I get the feeling that a lot of ppl havent been bothered to discipline him and so certain behaviours have led him to being kicked out of many supported homes. His mum even told me wen he first moved in that no professional has ever been able to change him “so wot hope do YOU have”.

It sadded me quite a lot to think that so many have given up on him including his own family (rejected by most of his family, even his mum refused to have him live with her, apparently bc he abused her and is a compulsive liar.) and I resolved then and there that no matter how hard it was gonna be, I wudn’t dump him. Gee, it hasn’t stopped me from wanting too at times tho, lol.

I thank God so much for His grace and his promises and lean on them when it gets really tough.

How do you teach someone about taking responsibility, honesty and integrity when they have never had any of that in their lives? How to you teach them about consequences for ‘bad behaviour’ when they can’t comprehend that what they have done is wrong (this is a major issue)? Or when no one else has followed through on consequences and therefore they don’t understand why it is wrong?

Poor Preston. Poor us. We asked him once if he knew what manners were. When he said no, we asked him if he wud like to learn manners. He said yes, but sometimes I think he regrets that yes. Lol. Finn and I work him hard. We don’t let him get away with a lot. However, I think that Finn then uses it to his own advantage sometimes often blaming poor Preston for stuff when in fact it is Finn that has done the wrong thing.
I begin to understand how parents of more than one kid must feel. Or in fact, my own foster parents. The amount of times I hear “He did it”, “No, HE did it”… How on earth do u find out the truth? And how do u hand out consequences when you can’t get to the bottom of it bc you know one of them is a compulsive liar and the other cud be lying… but MITE be telling the truth? Parents out there – I really value your feedback and ANY advice.

Apart from all the parenting skills I have to learn on the run, it’s also about understanding that Preston’s disability and his personality are different to Finn’s, similar yes, but not the same. While Finn has grown up with a compassionate heart and can be very sensitive to other’s needs, Preston has grown up with a lot of street smarts and has a really tough exterior.

I have friends who have seen my frustrations and suggested that maybe I should ‘send him back’. The problem is a) there is no back to send him too and b) If I send him back, then I am just another in a loooong line of people who have rejected him. I know my friends are looking out for me, and I am looking out for him. My opinion is that if certain people had rejected me (you know who you are) when I was at my worst, I honestly think I wud be in a grave right now. And Preston is SO worth the bother and the frustration. I do hear that my friends are concerned for me tho which is lovely.

Every now and then, I get little nuggets of gold from Preston. They warm my heart and make EVERYthing worthwhile.

What are some of these precious nuggets? Let me list just a few:

• Seeing him baptized into God’s family – at his request.
• Him proudly cooking tea one night with almost no help (& us wanting seconds)
• Thanking me profusely for letting him get his own pet cat.
• The times when he opens up from the depths of his heart and shares his past vulnerabilities and hurts with me.
• His mum visiting a couple months back and telling me on the quiet “I don’t know what you’ve done to him but he is a different person” – in a good way, lol.
• When his mum then asked if he wants to move in with her when her new house is ready and him replying “No, I have my house and my family now. Im not leaving”. Naaaaawww!
• Little things that I have to admit I’m taking for granted – like him wanting to unpack the shopping, or get the mail or take the bins out regularly.
• The times when I get home from somewhere and find the ‘fairy’ has been and cleaned the kitchen. He swears it’s not him but the fairy, lol.
• After getting into big BIG trouble the other night, and after I explained why his behavior was so unhealthy, him then opening up to me about his dreams for his life.
• Him telling me in the same conversation that he wants to go back to church and bible study (bc we have missed a couple weeks). I told him I thought he was bored bc he is always on his fone… turns out he just doesn’t know how to show or express his emotions, but he LOVES it all.
• Seeing him slowly, ever so slowly come out of his shell.
• Hearing him defend me to the death with Finn when people have said not-so-nice things about me.
• Giving him fun new experiences – like the Lobethal Christmas pageant or the World Tennis Challenge or meeting the cast of Housos and hearing his excitement about them.
• The night I helped him make Christmas cards for the special people in his life.
• Him wanting to make - and then actually doing it - a couple of deserts for Christmas lunch.

Getting letter like the following can ONLY melt ur heart...

I cud go on and on. The more I think about the little nuggets, the more of them there are.

It makes me realize, in writing them all here that things are changing in a great way. I just need to have more patience and trust God to do the hard stuff for me. I need to just continue to show Pres God’s love and persist in the times when I want to give up.

“…suffering produces perseverance; perseverance produces character and character produces hope…” Romans 5:3,4

There is only one real thing that I wish was different….

As ‘normal parents’ a person usually becomes a parent when their child is a newborn, or in the case of foster parents, the child is generally young. With Pres, I have a child in an adult’s body. And this is my biggest struggle with both of my Mikes; having two wonderful brothers (bc let’s face it, Preston has become a brother to both of us) that are in adult bodies but have children’s minds.

Along with the adult bodies come adult urges, adult behaviours (eg: smoking, language, street smarts, sexual activity) but bc they have the minds of children (in my opinion, they are like 10 year olds – depending on their mood or the situation, sometimes they are much younger) they are dealing with adult behaviours when they cannot comprehend wot it all means. It is so confusing for them – and also for me.

How do I explain there are certain things you really can’t do (like having a sexual relationship with ur gf) when you don’t understand the implications of it. I also have to remember that while they have the minds of younger people, they are in fact adults and I need to give them the dignity of being adults.

Talk about a confusing line to follow!

That’s why sometimes I wish I became the ‘parent’ when they were little. Bc then I wud be able to mold their minds at the same pace as their bodies. It wudnt be as confusing for either of us. That line would be much clearer.

But you know wot? Even though it’s difficult and hard, and sometimes we all wanna tear our hair out at each other, when it comes down to it, we are a household; a family; and I truly believe that God placed both Finn and Preston in my life at this time because we can be good for each other.

And don’t forget all those little nuggets!!!!

In fact, here are some visual nuggets to share with you...

Above, L-R

Soon after Preston moved in; Getting his kitten Misty, 

Chillin at home with the fire; best mates hangin out.

Above, L-R Special Events

The guys getting baptised - with our Pastor, Kynan; Preston's birthday

Christmas Eve and New year's Eve.

Above, L-R

Yes, we all love paying out Linda - after a dare to me to sit on the display bed... and it falling apart, hahaha! Loud Shirt Day, Cora Barclay Centre

Doing food shopping in the Central Markets and eating lunch in China Town, Just hangin out in the car. 

Spooktacular - having a fun night up with our friends in the hills. I did the face painting.

Meeting the cast of Housos at the Brahma Lodge Hotel was a highlight for the Mikes. They were looking for Australia's Biggest Bogan so had to come dressed as bogan as we cud. The bottom pic (excuse the fingers) is with Dave Cooper from the show. I might even get on the show itself as i got on camera a couple times. 

My 'Date with a Demon'

It's been a few months since I've written to you here, but I had a couple of laptops that suddenly got awfully thirsty. Needless to say, I now keep all drinks far away from Mike's newly fixed laptop. Thankfully, I am back online on a computer finally and so I can share with you again.

So much has happened since I last wrote, but today I have a real story for you. I won't apologise for the content. If you're not a Christian, you're probably not gonna like it - it's all God and God's power in THIS post so sit back for a ride like no other.......

I have a very dear friend (Im calling her “A” here and I have her permission to share this story). “A” and I got back in touch about 6 months ago after ten years of not seeing each other. Our friendship picked up where it had let off, only in the interim “A” had developed a love for alcohol. Ok, it wasn't just a love; she was well and truly addicted to it.

A couple years ago, she and God had a conversation where He warned her that she needed to stop drinking bc if she didn't it would become a major problem  She told her partner at the time what God had said and he went out and bought her top shelf gift-wrapped scotch each day for the next two weeks. I dunno wot prompted him to do this. He isn't a believer, and my only thing is that he liked her drunk bc there were certain things he could get out of her then. Supportive partner! Not!

Well, the long and short of it is that my dear friend ended up with a pretty severe addiction to alcohol to the point that her body was starting to break down. It was so scary. Since we met up again I have seen her drunk but functional and also well and truly smashed. It's been heart breaking to see and my brother and I have done all we could to support her. She herself doesn't want to drink anymore but her body needs it. If she doesn't drink at least every hour, her body stands a very good chance of going into seizures and she could possibly die.

I spent a night with her in emergency after one such seizure - the doctors got real with us about the damage that alcohol had done to her body. I won't tell you everything here, but needless to say, it was a massive eye opener for this teetotaller. It actually scared me - the fact that “A” could be that sick from only a couple years, if that, of alcohol consumption when there are people out there who drink for years and don't have the same health issues associated with alcoholism. 

I was more determined than ever after that to help “A” get off the drink. Just before and after Christmas, she attempted three times to do at-home detox (using Vallium which is the only way to do it without seizures but unfortunately wasn't successful. In the end she made the decision to go to a facility to detox. I was so so proud of her bc having been addicted to self injury in my past, I know the power of addiction. It takes great courage to admit you have a problem and then to take steps to overcome it. I can't begin to tell you how proud I have been of her.

Well, she was due to go into the facility on Tuesday morning.  So on Monday night - the night before “A”'s admission, we had a BBQ tea at her friends' (let’s call them “X”&”Y”) place. Apart from “A” and myself, “A”'s parents and her little 21 month old boy (“B”), and “X”&”Y”'s son and daughter-in-law were there. It was an absolutely lovely relaxing evening for me personally and I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know them all better. However for A it was fraught with anxieties over what the next day held.

The poor girl was going through all kinds of anxiety as she faced a future without alcohol. She was dealing with the fear of giving up an addiction that had been her whole life.

How on earth would her body withdraw from it without killing her? (She has been in serious danger of possible death due to withdrawals in the past).

How could she possibly deal with the demons, thoughts and memories in her head without the drink to quiet them?

What could she use to replace this coping mechanism? 

How on earth would she cope without it near her as her safety net? 

I can relate to her anxieties bc I went through similar when I eventually gave up my 'friend' self injury. (Yeah, I know it's not the same, but it nearly is - still an addiction to something unhealthy and the same reasons behind it all). And we both used our addictions in the same way - to cope with incredibly painful thoughts and emotions.

It really was a lovely night of relationship building, but after everyone else had gone home and it was just “X”&”Y”, “A” and me left, we decided to go inside and pray about “A”’s admission in the morning before I left for home. We went into the lounge room and “A” and I sat together on the lounge, with “X”&”Y” next to “A” on the floor. “X”&”Y” prayed first while we all laid hands on “A” - meaning, I was holding her arm and the others rested their hands on her hand and shoulder.

Then, “A” asked if she could pray. Ummm, of *course*! 

No, I understand why she asked. It was massive deal as she felt she could never pray out loud with others. And “A” hadn't prayed out loud with anyone for a long time (except for a one off with me). So I knew her reluctance and that made me even more excited that she *wanted* to pray out loud. We encouraged her to say whatever was on her heart. It was one of the most beautiful prayers I'd ever heard. Heartfelt, deep, personal, sincere and so humble. She got so honest with God, telling him everything. She apologised to her God, she asked him to change her heart, she cried out to him. It was truly beautiful and it was....wow! After that, I think the three of us others were all crying, I know I was. And then I prayed. 

I don't remember everything that we prayed, all I know is that all of a sudden “A”’s back arched up and she was flung to the floor. At first I thought that she was so moved by the Holy Spirit – given her prayer but I was soon to recognize tho, it was a completely different kind of spirit that was in da house!

Suddenly, I realised we were well and truly in the middle of a battle between heaven and hell.

I remember the many many discussions I've had with my spiritual parents about spiritual warfare. I have sat at their feet and fired off question after question learning and trying to understand this kind of ministry. I have learnt over the years to pray certain things for protection and stuff. Im now so thankful for these talks bc I felt a little more armed than I might have previously been. Neil T Anderson also has a couple of awesome books that I read years ago that are wonderful for this kind of ministry and added to my knowledge base immensely (one of the ‘The Bondage Breaker’). 

For example:

One thing I have learnt is that the most powerful things you can say to a demon or even the devil is Jesus' name and Jesus' blood. They HATE that. So over and over and over again we prayed Jesus over “A”. We prayed for a covering of his life-giving blood over “A”, over “X”&”Y” and over me. That His blood would cover all our homes and the ppl we love. To pray Jesus' blood over somebody is something that will get them scurrying for the darkest of corners. And I saw the proof of this countless times over in that two hours that we prayed.

Much of what happened throughout that prayer session is a blur. But I do remember some things. I remember the look of that demon as it stared out of “A”'s beautiful eyes at me. The look of absolute hate as it spat its tirade in my face. We just prayed all the harder. Every time we prayed that Jesus blood would cover “A”, the spirit of alcoholism wud scream out "Noooooooo" and would violently jerk my friend's body. So then we would bind it in Jesus' name and “A”'s body would calm down. As we watched her relax, the evil demon would leave her features and we could see her come to the fore. She would plead with her eyes and barely manage to whisper "What is happening to me?" We would try to tell her that it was gonna be ok, we were praying for her and God was here. We would say that alcohol wasn't gonna win and then her body would tense up again and we would hear the demon using her mouth to scream at us again. Every time we rebuked it, it played havoc with A's body, throwing her around the floor, tossing and turning her at random. Giving her the utmost pain in her abdomen. 

"She is miiiiiiiiiiine!" 

"No, she *isn't*. She is God's daughter and she is covered by the life giving blood of Jesus who died just for her. You have NO power here."

"Noooooooooooooooo. I’ll kill her first"

All the while, “A” was either writhing around on the floor or was physically trying to jump up and leave. Thank goodness for “X”'s strength bc us girls couldn't have held her down. we prayed that he be bound, that his mouth be shut up and he would suddenly go quiet and we just kept proclaiming the promises of God over “A”, no matter what that spirit would try to do.

There was a very distinct difference between the face of my beautiful friend and the face of the demon spirit even though he used her. “A”'s face was gentle, relaxed, pained and crying. Her eyes were begging and pleading for the pain to stop. She was very questioning while also looking so frightened.

The demon Alcoholism had an almost triangular face. I really don't know how he managed to contort her face into the shape it was bc it wasn't her face - and yet it was, if u know what I mean. All I can remember were small eyes and gritted bared teeth and a red red face when it was the demon. There was a hardness to its eyes. It definitely wasn't my friend.

At one point I remember wondering to myself how on earth were we gonna get rid of this damn spirit but no matter how long it took, we were there for the long haul. And then it popped into my head (or rather God spoke to me). We had to get “A” to speak it out herself. That was the only way. We could pray over her as much as we liked but that demon wouldn't leave her until she spoke out with her own voice that she wanted Jesus and that she belonged to him.

I prayed and asked “A” to say the name "Jesus". She tried. She tried so so hard but no voice would come. That's when we knew that the demon had left her abdomen (where it had already caused physical damage) and was now up in her throat. I could, in the Spirit, see it holding onto her vocal chords stopping her from speaking. I demanded it to let go of her throat and vocal chords. We all prayed about it, very determinedly, and after a fight, we could see it losing its grip and “A” was able to whisper in a very hoarse voice "Jesus". 

I remember the tears pouring down my face at that victory for God. We continued to pray - pray Jesus blood and proclaim His salvation over “A”. 

The next thing we got her to say was along the lines of "Alcohol, I demand you to leave me in Jesus' name". It took a long time as that demon kept trying to stop her from speaking, but, word by word, she managed to gasp out the phrase. Interspersed with us all praying Jesus' blood over her and binding the spirit and his voice. Once “A” had said this sentence it was basically over. 

The demon was toast. Hell had lost!

We continued to pray for about 5-10 minutes and again, I wondered how do we know if it's gone? Simple, the answer came from above; just ask her. So, I did!

"“A”, do you think it's gone?". “A” nodded her head weakly and we could see she was free. We prayed rejoicing over her and thanked God for how hard he worked this night. I think those last 10 minutes of prayers were born out of tears, emotion, relief and just plain thankfulness.

A moment or two later, “A” kind of 'came too'. It was like she'd been in a trance or hypnotized or something bc even tho her eyes had been open it was like she just woke up. She asked us "Uuummm, what am I doing on the floor? Why is the music off? When are we gonna pray? C'mon guys, I need to get to bed."

We all just laughed. It was so bizarre, after being in this massive spiritual battle and “A” not even remember it. Her reactions just tickled me but I think that the laughter was also just the incredible joy from witnessing such a massive healing too.

We eventually ended up outside under the pergola with cups of tea and blankets as we shared with “A” all that had happened in the last two hours. At first she couldn't believe it - although one of the first things she said was that if someone put alcohol in front of her she would, without hesitation, smash the bottle. "I hate the stuff" she said.

Over the next 15 minutes to half an hour, God brought back certain memories for her - memories of her deliverance and we all shared and debriefed together. One thing for sure, “X”, ”Y” and myself had never met before that night, but we were closer than family could be after this.

“A” had an incredibly tender stomach - and we explained that is where the demon was for most of the time - flinging her body around, then it went up to her throat - she said that explained why her throat was also sore.

Eventually it was time for me to leave, and “A” to go to bed so that “Y” could take her to detox in the morning. I received a text from “Y” the next afternoon saying that “A” had gone to detox 'like a lamb'. I was so happy.

I have been able to call “A” each day at detox and up until today, she has had no withdrawals or cravings at all. That is something else we prayed for in amongst it all that Monday night. I get so excited every time I call and she tells me that she still hasn't had any. Tonight however, she told me she has had cravings for alcohol and they have been so intense. Im not worried tho. I honestly believe that the cravings are more a mind thing than a body thing. The alcohol should now be out of her system and it's just a matter of her mind finding other ways to deal with the anxieties and stress of life than to just reach for a bottle. She comes 'home' to “X”&”Y”'s place tomorrow where she can continue to recuperate for a few more days before facing the big world again.

That night I realised that my faith was a lot stronger than I ever thought bc why else were we fighting so hard against a demon? Thinking about it all…it was kind of bizarre for me to be praying against something so evil as I have always had this inkling that my prayers arn't as powerful as those who have stronger faith. I will always ask others to pray bc I believe my prayers arn't as good. Or that my faith isn't as strong so why would God listen to me? What a crock. I sure learnt differently that night. No matter how insignificant you think you are God can still work through you.

I have absolute confidence that my Lord God will keep her from drinking alcohol. I know that he has placed a strong support network of people around “A” to guide her through the next few months. Months that will be difficult as she deals with things from her past, clear minded. I know that she can now lean on God for the strength instead of reaching for a bottle that has no strength but that wud only cloud everything.

If you would like to pray for something I will make a small list here below. Because I think it's so important that “A” continue to have as much prayer support as she can get - life is not gonna get easier any time soon, but with Jesus and the support and prayers of friends and strangers she can conquer a lot more than she could have ever hoped or dreamed.

Prayer Points:

      Thank Jesus that He was able to bring “A” through such a horrific ordeal and come out the other end completely victorious in Him

      For “A” to keep her focus solely on God as she ventures forth alcohol-free to a brand new life.

      That God can continue to heal “A”'s body from the physical damage alcohol did and reverse some of the damage.

      That “A” has the support around her to really get transparent and real about the stuff she has to work through in order to be healthy and whole.
Pray also that "A" can get back to the business of being the best mum in the world to her beautiful son "B".

Thank you for reading this far. It was something I so much wanted to share- as it was a new thing for me - and bc it’s something I’ve heard of happening – even to friends of mine, but I’ve never seen before.

I think this ‘experience’ has shown me that my faith is stronger than I realised, and that God can use people who think they are so little when it comes to fighting these massive battles. It just shows that with God, ANYthing can be achieved.

Praise and thank you Jesus for “A”’s continued healing and new life in you. Thank you also for strengthening my faith and providing me with two more people to love and live and learn from xoxoxo

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