I am that mother

You know when you read inspirational stories of successful people who have overcome adversity there is inevitably a story about the children who's mother had mental illness but despite that they are a success.   They had a mother that was disconnected, sad, irrational, angry etc ect. That they had to cook dinner, mange their mothers emotions, look after them selves. I am afraid I am that mother.

Right now I want to shut the door on the world and throw away the key. I want everyone, including my kids to piss off and leave me the hell alone.

I don't want to deal with school or dancing or netball.

I don't want to have to help with homework or do the washing or sweep the floors.

I want life to stop and I want to get off.

I have tried God knows to right whatever is wrong with my brain. I have done yoga every day for 28 days. I try and eat well and not drink much alcohol or caffeine. I see a psychologist fortnightly and I talk and I talk. But none of it works. None of it makes me feel any better.

I am angry, anxious and sad.  My kids see it. The hug me and say don't cry mum it will be ok. But isn't that my job? Its not fair! they didn't choose to have a nutcase for a mum.

Forgiveness, forcefields and the Incredibles

I have n't posted for over a year. I haven't really had the head space. Depression ad anxiety reared its ugly head and threatened to undo the work I have done to keep it it at bay. You see I made a mistake. A mistake that cost me my job, relationships I heald dear and has my loud critical voice screaming "I told you so your no good and finally every one can see"

This blog post  is not about the details of the mistake. I would further hurt people by sharing it. Needless to say I did not break the law. I am  so very sorry and I wish I go go back in time and do it all differently. It is instead, about about my journey towards forgiveness of self.

"So I am a person of faith,tick ... I believe that christ died  to forgive us, yep... I am forgivable, oh hang on NO! thats for other people. Me, I am bad, horrid and I have done a thing that cant be forgiven. I shouldn't be forgiven, it really was just a matter of time till everyone found that out and now they have."

This is the daily tape that plays in my head. The critical voice that has log been a part of my life. It is triggered to be louder in certain places, on the bus as I go to work, in my place of worship, when I see certain people. It is always there. It is tiring constant and I am over suffering.

It kind of all came to a head Friday. I returned to the community development work I am doing for the church and I nearly couldn't go. You see the building triggers the voice to become so loud it is like a tidal wave. It rushes in and engulfs me. I can n't hear, see or think about anything else.  So I am on the tram and panic arises. I feel shaky and sick.  I cant take a full breath in. Thank God for Yoga. I close my eyes and breathe. Big lions breath. I probably look a little strange but its better than freaking out right?  I get to work and make my self focus on the tasks ahead but I am done. I am done with the control this thing has on me. The voice of course tells me that I deserve to suffer , that this is my penance.

Saturday rolled around and I went to see my psych. She is the most amazing women and I am so grateful that I have the space to see her. We talk about the 30 days of yoga challenge that I am doing and how it is making me feel physically strong, and like I can breathe better, about the mindfulness book I got  for christmas and how I intend to use it  and the processes we are putting in place to manage our finances. All good lots of smiles.  And then she asks about forgiveness of self and how am I going and the dam breaks  and I cry, shuddering and painful sobs,  as I tell her I just can't that the wave of shame and self loathing is too great..

We chose the tidal wave as imagery to explain how it feels. You know that movie where the asteroid has hit the earth and a tidal wave engulfs the father and daughter as they hug on a beach? Just like that.
 We play with imagery to help deal with the tidal wave. Being in one of those giant plastic balls and riding out the wave, having Moses like powers to part the wave leaving a clear path for me to walk. But the one a resonated with the best was this

This is Violet from the Incredibles. She reminds me of the inner me, scared and insecure. But she has this awesome super power, when she gets emotional she can access a forcefield. It protects her and her family from all sorts of danger,:bullets, bombs, lazers, falling from a plane it kinda cool. 

So the idea is when the wave comes instead of freaking out I imagine I am like Violet. I can put a forcefield around me that allows the wave to come but protects me from it. I came out of the session feeling empowered. I had a tool, great.

Today is Sunday, Sunday we go to church. Church, though no fault of anyone there, is a wave causing experience.  I think, todays the day that the wave is beaten I have my force field. But it wasn't that simple. Like Violet at the beginning of the movie.  I've never used the forcefield before. I cant yet make it big enough to protect we from all of the wave. But it was a little better. I still cried in the middle of the service, I still couldn't socialise and felt like and outsider. My critical voice tried to shout. But the forcefield was big enough to deflect  it a little. I think overtime I will be able to use it to sit inside, safe and warm as the wave rushes over. 

Have I forgiven myself, No way. The shame even now as I am typing makes me want to weep. The loss of relationships has left an open gapping wound that will take a long time to heal. But I feel like I have made a start. And I am grateful.: for family and friends who continue to stick around and love me and for yoga and therapy and imagery like Violet that are setting me on a path to forgiveness of self.

So if you see me and my eyes are closed and I am in some strange battle ready stance its just me practicing my forcefield :).

Do you have imagery that helps you in time of overwhelm? What are they and how do you use them.

Shades of Gray (slightly more than 50)

For the past month or so my FB news feed has been full of conflicting views as the Tasmanian Parliament debates the laws around termination of pregnancy. It is certainly one of those topics in which people have strong views and has lead me to be thinking about my own thoughts on the issue. From it has come a few questions and many many shades of gray.

The first of these questions relates to me personally. Would I have an abortion? The answer is no. I did consider it with one of my children. I wasn't in a place where I  wanted a child, I even went as far as booking an appointment with an OB in the hospital I was working at. But I just couldn't do it. Fundamentally I belief that life is life and therefore to end it would have been wrong thing for me to do, but that is my personal world view.

This lead me to the second question am I pro life or pro choice and actually I think I am both. At work I recently had client who was considering having an abortion. As I restled with the emotions that personally came up around this I also realised that the young woman standing in front of me didn't need my judgement, moralising or speel about the rights of the unborn she just needed me to love and support her. Enter shades of gray and more qusetions...

Even in writing this post I am struggling with the language because the words such as termination hold such emotional power.

Am I sad that this world is and always will be a place where pregnancies are terminated? Yes if I look deep into my soul I am. I wish that this world was a place where pregnancy was always welcomed, always happy and always resulted in a  bouncy healthy child but this is not and never has been the world we live in.

Given the above therefore I must be prolife yes? Actually maybe not cos I also believe that each woman deserves the right to access medically safe options if her world view is different to mine. More shades of gray.

It comes down to the fact that I believe I can not nor should I enforce my beliefs on someone else. And that I see this not as a massive political issue but about the rights of individual woman with individual stories

In my job I have had the unfortunate experience of watching the pain of mothers and children as they are torn apart by the cycle of addiction and poverty. But is it my right to say these mothers should have their ability to bear children removed? absolutely not but I do wonder at times as I watch these children grow up with trauma that effects the rest of their lives is it the quality of life not the quality of life that truly matters? And there it is the last gray area and one I neither have the brain power or the moral fortitude to think about.. what does "quality of life" even mean.

I think that the issue must be broader than the rights of the "unborn" Because the unborn become babies and those babies become children and those children become adults.
Here is something my friend posted on FB that began the idea which has turned into this post. I like sister Joan I think she is a woman after my own heart.

The New Kindness (from incurable chronic disease to .....?)

It would seem that I have not posted since September and looking back it was then that I started to feel really crappy. Exhausted, sad, anxious, sick, all vague symptoms but ones which persisted and made my life really yuck

I have been diagnosed with 1 perhaps 2 auto immune disorders neither of which have a cure in modern medicine only a life of management. As I sat in the Dr surgery and heard him talk about the need to change my diet, my lifestyle, my job... the room began to close in. What change everything. Then who will I be.....in fact who am I?

Louisa the wife and Mother who puts her kids before herself because of some stupid sense of motherly duty?

Louisa the support worker serving the poor and needy? (isn't that why we moved here)

Louisa the chocolate and coffee lover?- I think it even says that in my profile.

Louisa the friend that listens, not the one who asks for help or for that matter ever needs help?

Louisa the one who always has an opinion and loves to stand on her soap box?

Strip away these things to live the quiet and gentle life my body demands and what is left? What will I have to offer the world and does that even matter?

Will any of it really help or am I giving up ALL the food I enjoy for no reason?

Questions, questions all I have is frigging questions and not many answers. Sure I have read all the info people have sent me and my dear friend Gemma is a constant source of bossing but what I want is the Bupa add. You know the one where you get a glimpse of the healthier you.

I was meditating today ( a new skill suggested by Gemma) and the man said, now I want you to thank your body for what it does for you. I wanted to jump up and yell- what hurt and be tired and stop me from eating and drinking the things I like great thanks not!! Then the quiet man said "thankyou for making me rest when I won't" and I remember I did this to me. I have ignored my poor tired body for so long and it is saying Stop it now!

So I am still tired and sore and anxious and all of those things afore mentioned on this page and other blog posts but I now take responsibility for it. As my dad would have said "I have no-one to blame but myself.

I dont have a Bupa add but what I do have is a faint glimmer of hope and a belief that if I am kind and gentle to myself, I will find a way back from the abyss.

So if I have any readers left I am going to from time to time ,when the fog clears write about that journey. More for me as a kind of retrospective so I can see that what I am doing is working  and help me  I answer Who am I? and where to from here?

Round and Round on the Merry Go Round

Living with an Anxiety disorder sucks there is simply no other word for it.

For the past month I have been struggling with constant panic attacks, awake and asleep, and this feeling of impending doom that makes my whole body tense and prickly.

My memory is shot causing me to tripple book myself for stuff

It all came to a head yesterday where I was left in a state of uncontrollable sadness. I cried in public, and I just wanted to run away and hie myself in a cave.

Today I am missing two of my friends 50th birthday because I just cant bare the happiness of others- Isn't that awful?

But that stuff isn't really what makes is sucky its that try as I may I dont seem to be able to do a dam thing about it. About once every 6 mths I fall in this massive whole that takes 4-5 weeks to claw my way out of.

My eldest asked me yesterday why I was sad and I really dont know....... And just the mere fact she has to ask makes me sadder.

I have had a consult with a fabulous natropath  who has recommended all types of things that will likely help me but the truth is each one of them is at least $40- its just not economical.

So what am I left with?  Taking a bensodiazapene which my body will continue to get used to and therefore need higher and higher doses.

I can burden my lovely husband anymore he has had nearly 10 years of it and I feel guilty ringing my mum as she worries so.

I am left with this feeling of hopelessness....... I wish for the day where I wake up and it isnt there anymore but that wish is never to be fulfilled so around and around I go again.

Dear Johnpa

Dear Johnpa,

On this fathers day there are many things I would like to share with you alas you have gone to be with the big man in the sky.

I would like to tell you that Elly is 13 now and beautiful with long legs (that I never had), that she dances like a beautiful butterfly and that she is going to be on TV next year (ABC even)

I would like to tell you that "the plain one" is no longer plain. She has a delightful smile and infectious laugh and a zest for life that many of us wish we had.

I would also like to tell you that Jay is growing up to be a compassionate young man. He is a vegetarian, because he just cant bare to eat animals and he wants to be a vet.

We are are happy in Melbourne, in Port Melbourne close to the city.

We have a dog and a bird.

I often find myself wanting to ask or tell you something then realising I can't

Most of all I want to tell you that I miss you. Its been so long now I have to remember really hard to hear your voice.  I wish you were here to see the kids grow up.

Thanks for being my dad, for driving me at 5am to swimming, for pushing me to be the best I could be and for loving me.

xxxx Goondalou

Broken, alone, scared and laughed at .

Yesterday a young lady came into our centre right on closing time. We have been worried about her for some time as her mental health has been declining.

She was very distressed, crying and screaming and people who weren't even there. She grabbed a drink and left.

As myself and another worker were locking up she appeared again still just as agitated, still crying and screaming. This was distressing to see, to leave was impossible, so  we followed her for a while hoping that she would listen to our calls and we could get her back inside and give her some food and maybe some help. We couldn't do either. But that is not really what this post is about.

Whilst this was going on people where coming out of their flats or onto their balconies. Not to help but to point, stare and laugh. One guy was videoing the whole thing on his phone.

I just simply dont understand. Why is it that society has much compassion for people with physical illness but those who suffer life limiting mental illness are ignored at best, ridiculed and laughed at the norm.

This young ladies mind is broken, from years of abuse from others and from using drugs to try and take away that pain and memories of that abuse. It is not funny or worthy of finger pointing, but heart breaking.

I have suffered from an anxiety disorder for years. I get what its like to want to pull up the covers and not get out again. My friends and family are fabulous and support me through the bad times. But I am lucky. Many with severe mental illness far far worse than mine have no one. Just like this lass they become disconnected from society, homeless and desperate.

The mental health system talks of "recovery" but my experience with clients is short acute stays, fill them up with psyc drugs and get them out asap. No follow up, no "recover plan." The system, to be fair, is under funded, under staffed and all they can do is react to crisis.

No one chooses mental illness, just the same as no one chooses cancer or MS.

To the people in the flats, where is your empathy, your love for those less fortunate than yourself? They are human beings not spectacles to be put on youtube or sent around as "look at this, it hilarious" to your friends. 

A Broken Heart

The last few weeks at Gatehouse have been particularly tough. I can not share the exact events because it would involve disclosing personal stories of others I do not have permission to share.

I have been working at Gatehouse for 2 and 1/2 years. When I was applying for the job I sent my friend the position description to see if she thought I should apply. She said yes but remember it will break your heart. I remember laughing thinking of course it will but I am tough, I've seen it all...pft I was so wrong.

Tonight I have a broken heart. A heart that aches for what was lost, what should have been and scared for what will become.

Statistically the woman I work with are 20% more likely to die before they are 40, 50% more likely to have mental illness, more likely to be raped and abused and almost all have had periods of homelessness and poverty. Jim, whom I work with says that they are so much closer to death than the average person that we cant be surprised when they die.

If was a reader of this blog and I read these stats and think oh how dreadful, but its not because of these facts that I have broken my heart.

It is the beautiful woman who I have come to know and love and their stories behind the statistics. They are as much a part of my story now as I am of theirs and it is hard not to carry the burden of their shattered lives.

Tonight I found it difficult to transition back into "normal" life. So difficult in fact that I yelled at the family, I love for no reason, left the dinner table and took a walk. As mocha and I walked in the dark I cried silent tears. Asking that God would help me carry the emotional burden that comes with working with those on the edge.

I love my job and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is what I am to be doing at this point. I am just struggling at the moment to cope. My emotional reserve is empty.

My Disordered Brain Part 2: The Dentist

Here we are again. Me and my disordered brain. Last night I had appointment with my psyc. Vicki is a softly spoken woman whom I know almost nothing about. She knows my deepest darkest thoughts, my fears and my failings.

Yesterday we talked about, amongst other things, my fear of going to the dentist. I am petrified. To the point I havent been for at least 7years despite having daily pain in my mouth and not being able to eat hard foods. Until yesterday Tilly had never been to the dentist and the others not for at least 7 years. Viki asked me would I prefer to have all my teeth ripped out and have false teeth instead. I said yes. Apparently that means my anxiety around dental procedures is as big as it gets.

Every time I think about going to the dentist I get thrown back to being 12, alone in the dentist chair having root canal with NO pain relief. The Dentist simply wouldn't believe that my tooth was not numb. I felt every needle that he inserted inside my tooth, felt the nerve of the tooth being ripped out and can I say it was worse than child birth in my 12 year old mind. He yelled at me and told me to be quiet that I was being naughty. Even slapped me on a couple of occasions.

So this post is to that 12 year old child who was alone scared and in much pain.

Dear 12 year old Louisa-Anne Meredith Skirving,

We are going to the dentist next Wednesday, we are taking our good friend Gemma with us so we wont be alone. We are going to let the dental hygienist that we are anxious to the point of being paralyzed. We are going to tell her and the dentist that we are afraid of not being listened to, of being in pain. That we need patience and understanding and if we say stop that is what we need.

When this all is done, we will be able to eat apples and steak and other things that need chewing and we wont wake up everyday in pain which will be a good thing. And it is likely that we will no longer scared of the dentist, also a good thing.

It will be ok.

Love

Grown Up Louisa-Anne Meredith Tew

xx

The lady on the floor

Today on my way to get Elly from dancing I stopped to get petrol. My tank had been on empty all day and I was scared I would run out if I went any further.

As you know, if you read this blog, I work with men and woman who are addicted to drugs. I thought I had become unshockable, but what I saw inside the BP has shocked me and left me feeling a little shaken.

As I walked in I noticed that there was a large que (annoying but not shocking), there were people milling about, paying for petrol, getting food, looking at the magazines. (nothing unusual). What was weird was that people were stepping over something. I couldn't see what, at first, but I assumed it was a spill on the floor or something of the like. As I got closer I saw it was not a spill but a young lady. She was skinny, filthy and had obviously dropped where she stood in the line, most likely as the result of a drug she had taken not long before entering the BP. But it wasn't the fact that she was lying there that shocked me. It was the fact that customers stepped over her like she was a log of wood, that the man behind the counter continued to serve them and that not one person cared that there was a human being obviously vulnerable and in need of some assistance right there infront of them.

I said to the dude behind the counter "do you need some help with her?" He replied "what? Oh her, no she is drunk I've called the cops they are on their way."

I knelt beside her rolled her over onto her side, pulled down her dress, which was up well above her waist, and put her bag under her head for a pillow. She was so deeply under the influence of what ever she had taken she didn't even react to my touch or my voice. I wanted to stay but Elly and her friends were waiting. So feeling guilty and worrying what would become of her I left her there, on the floor with people ignoring her very existence. All the way to dancing I wanted to go back, to be with her when the police came, to ensure they treated her with dignity, but I couldn't who would pick up Elly and her friends? So I drove on hoping and praying she would be ok.

I am sad that this is what our world has become. A place where we ignore those who are most in need around us, where communities take the "not in my back yard" approach to social justice issues and where we dont know our neighbours names let alone have a relationship with them. I realise that most of the people in the petrol station where like me, some where to be, on a time schedule. Thats just it though right? Its all about the schedule.

I am not writing this for pats on the back, cos really I did only what every other person who was in the line infront of me should have done, treated that poor young girl with a little dignity and respect. After all given slightly different life choices or slightly different experience she could easily have been one of us.

Frazled corners of the mind.

Almost 3 years ago I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. At the time they were like raging monsters eating my life from the inside out. I have come a long way since then. Mostly my anxiety is under control. Good friends and family, a magnificent husband and an excellent psychologist have allowed me to move forward with my life. Mostly this weakness is also my strength. I have an empathy for those who struggle with mental unwellness that helps me be good at what I do.

But today and for most of this week the beast has reared its ugly head, roaring loudly and making me feel like I am about to spiral out of control again. I am breathless, sleepless and jittery. I am crabby with the kids, unreasonably, again and my mind makes lists to try and deal with the myriads of thoughts that fly around it.

The reason- money. I have huge anxiety around money. My coping strategy had been to ignore it, not think about it, not look at it, use as little as possible. This year I decided that this was ridiculous, I am 37 in a week and I shouldn't be letting money hold me captive. Easy right?Actually it means I have to deal with things I have been ignoring for years. So off I went and it felt great, almost liberating. But this week it has all got hard, facing the true reality of what I have to do is making me sick. I want to run away again cos I know if I do my anxiety will go away to. But I am not going to. I am determined to beat it this time. It is the reason I write this post so I have a public record that says, "I Lousia-Anne Meredith Tew will no longer be held captive by the money anxiety monster. It may be painful and frightening and sickening but I will not die from anxiety and it will work out in the end if I keep pushing through."

So there it is. As I sit on the couch trying to breath like my pysc has taught, but really taking short shallow breaths that serve only to increase my anxiety levels I am making a resolve. To do what is necessary to get past this, one little step at a time.

Judge not lest you be judged ..........

This week has been one where I have been very ashamed of my fellow believers. It is sad as I had just spent 3 days at a conference with other people just like me and had come home thinking there was hope for the church and really wanting to find one to attend regularly...

On Monday morning I go to work and there is Fiona. Fiona is 8mths pregnant, a heroin addict and a street sex worker. She looked very sad as she searched through our clothes to try and find something to hide her bump. I asked if she was ok and she said no, she didn't expect to be down here(St Kilda) again and certainly not pregnant. She felt judged. I said that there was no judgement inside Gatehouse and she smiled. She then proceeded to tell me that her and her husband had been going to church and that they had got off drugs and were doing well for about a year. They got engaged and all was good. Then she got pregnant and the church threw them out. And now here she is with a habit again, 8 mths pregnant and selling her body instead of getting ready for the birth of her first child. Seriously where is that in the bible? Where is the unconditional love? I asked if I could pray for her and she said yes, tears streamed down her face as I asked God to show her his love. Inside I was furious if she would have told me the name of the church I would have rung them up and said "see what you have done, are you proud that your self righteous actions have caused this?"

On Wednesday I was reading my fb and one of my school friends posted ".....thinks it is all a crock of shit." of course I had to look. Turns out the Australian Christian lobby has a hateful site called saving marriage. I am not going to link to it because I don't want anyone else to have to read it. It has a section that details arguments against homosexual marriage. It states that once this is allowed it opens the door for to incestual relationships and that same sex parents will harm their children. More hate, more vilification. Again angry I posted on my friends fb that I was sorry and that not all people of faith were this bigoted.

I am sick and tired of two diminutional Christianity. Anti abortion and anti homosexuality is what they preach. They stand out side abortion clinics with signs and placards(and sometimes bombs) heaping hate on woman who have made the hardest decision of their lives. They hold meetings to discuss the evil that is incarnate in the homosexual person and how they will destroy the fabric of out society.

Last night 200 children were killed in afghanistan when an American bomb missed it's target and landed on a school instead, tonight 200 people will sleep on the street in the Port Phillip region alone, our indigenous community is being ripped to shreds by a unjust and undemocratic law that removes their rights, Again. Where are the churches rising up against these injustices?

Aren't we supposed to bring reconciliation and peace?

I know that their justification will be about people knowing THE truth, about making disciples of all nations but what they fail to see is that THE truth is one of love and peace and compassion and that discipleship is not about moralizing or telling society what is wrong or right but about the One. The One person God has put in front of me right now. To hold that person with compassion showing them God's love for them. So that he may reveal himself to them. This is not done on by angry protests or meetings but by the everyday relationships we choose to build with our community.

Life is Hard and then it gets harder

Today we began the big clean up Gatehouse it was wiped out by the storm water drain over flowing on Friday night. Not much can be saved. Jim and I had the unenviable task of trying to make us barely functional. Water and dirt every where, in every thing.

As we began B came to the door. "sorry chick we are closed." I say. " I really need to talk to you" B replies with an anxious look on her face. *sigh* "Ok lets go out side" I motion out the door but she doesn't move. "Its Dannielle I have seen her since Friday......."

She could have then been speaking French after that. My vision narrowed and I felt sick.

Danielle is a beautiful young woman who I have seen almost 5 days a week for the past 2 years. She had no where to go on christmas day so she came to our place with her lovely daughter who she sees once a fortnight. She is also a drug addict and my friend.

I had tried to txt her on the weekend to see if her house had flooded, no answer. Tried again to see if she had her daughter and would we all go to the park, no answer. Tried to ring her this morning to see if she wanted a lift to Gatehouse again nothing.

I instictively knew that something was wrong as B told me stuff that I have no idea about. It took no more than two phone calls to discover that Danielle was in intensive care with a massive brain injury.

Gemma and I dropped everything to go visit.

There was my friend as vunerable as I have ever seen her. Six lines in with various medicines and food. A machine breathing in and out for her. Her head shaven and bandages wrapped around it. Cooled to 33 degrees because it may help her recovery, her skin was grey.

As a speech pathologist I have stood in ICU wards many times before. I can read the monitors and understand the lingo. She is seriously ill and there are no grantees she will be ok.

My head screaming inwardly, "WHY GOD WHY", as I stand there stroking her calmly telling her she has to wake up. That her daughter needs her, that there are people who love her, that I need her.

I have been at Gatehouse for 2 years in March and the longer I am there the harder it gets. I spend more time with the woman than my own family. And I have grown to love them. It hurts to see them messing up there lives and not being able to stop it. But it is the nature of the Job and the nature of "small things with great love" But today "small things" did not seem enough I just hope "Great Love" is.....

I will end today with a quote I stole from Gemma my friend who's beautiful writing about today today and a photo of Danielle can be found here.

"Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain." William Faulkner.

The Man next Door

As described in my last post we have lived next to an interesting character. S was an inventor, chief of neighborhood watch, and a sad lonely man. You will notice my past tense. Well that is because S is dead." He was killed in a head on collision. The Police are not sure if it was an accident or suicide. Could be either given his constant talk about "people who want to die" and his terrible terrible driving. He was only 41.

S will be missed by very few people. He had no real friends to speak of and his mum is nearly as crazy as he was.

I will miss him though. I will miss our weird conversations about his latest inventions, the way the world would end, or his day at "supernatural school". I will miss him sitting on his bench in his front yard at all times of the day or night. As I walked passed his place tonite and I saw the lonely seat and I felt sad. We were not conventional friends but a strange as it may seem I liked him and will miss the quirky relationship we had.

Goodbye S, the Tew family will miss you x

Mirror roads, Laser Tv and other crazy stuff.

We have a next door neighbor who is an inventor, he invented the Laser TV , Mirrored Roads and the Laser Washing Machine.......never heard of these inventions well that is because they are a figment of his imagination.

S has a mental illness, schizophrenia I think, from the way he yells at the voices in his head some times. And his mantra "I am a nice person I don't hurt people you know...."

He is alone most of the time, isolated in his craziness, too paranoid to come for dinner on the couple of occasions that we have asked him. No friends ever visit him, he roams around on foot or in the car. His personal hygiene is terrible. He must be awfully lonely.

Then there is K she is a client of mine at work. She has been mentally unwell for as a long as she can remember. She has had fifteen admissions to the psyc ward in the last 8 weeks and

numerous suicide attempts including today where she lay on the road in front of a moving tram and it nearly hit her. The emergency department and the pych unit where she usually attends will no longer see her. She is homeless, addicted to drugs, skinny and desperate. Her suicide attempts are not because she is depressed but an attempt to get what she wants, a symptom of her confused mind

These are the forgotten mentally ill of our society. They are not unwell enough to access acute psyc services but need long term care so they are safe. But there are no such places, because, we, the sane, (well mostly) decided institutions are bad. Chucked the baby out with the bath water as we are want to do. I am not advocating for the bad old days when we locked them away never to be seen again but instead communities where they can be safe, housed and have access to the help they so desperately need.

Mental health is drastically under funded both at a state and federal level. Our prisons are full of mentally ill who are not being treated appropriately. Mental health workers are overloaded and there is a huge burn out rate.

My fear for both S and K is that something bad is going to happen to them. That one day the tram will hit K or S will act out the things his voices are telling him to do. A colleague of mine says she feels sick every time she thinks of K-that her time is short. K thinks she is "beyond help" and quite frankly the way the system works now she probably is.

I have no real answers, but instead questions. Who will go to K's funeral when it happens? Is there a better way? Are their some people who are in fact not able to be helped?

If you do, would you mind saying a prayer for S and K that they might have some rest from their minds and find some peace......

Great Love- The Hardest thing to do

I have not posted since August, not because I didn't want to but because my life has been mad.

Where to begin I am not sure. But I do know this I am learning the lesson of what Great Love is.

My friend and colleague, Gemma, posted about such love on the Dark Room Red Light Blog a great read so go there if you can.

In the last 4 weeks I have had my ability to love unconditionally shaken. It is something that has always come easily to me. I quickly take people into my heart, compassion and empathy are easy for me, a gift and a curse, as it is exhausting to care so much about people that you feel their pain, but it is what makes me good at what I do.

Then Yesterday........

There is a couple with whom I have been working with for over a year. In August last year they were homeless, heroin addicted and desperate. Then M found out she was pregnant. for the first time they asked for help. I took them to appointments, spent hours on the phone trying to find them accommodation and along the way grew to understand how and why they found themselves destitute and drug addicted, and, to love them. Together we worked our butts off to see them housed, drug free, having custody of their beautiful baby girl and their teenage son.

On Friday night M's mother txts me to say that Protective Services were bringing the children to her as M and B had a car accident and the police thought them to be drug affected. Seriously I wanted to get a big stick and smack them with it. Didn't they understand what it was they stood to loose? After a what must have been the longest weekend of their lives we end up at court Monday morning. It takes all day and I sit with these distraught parents, coping B's abuse because I know that it is not really me he is angry at, wiping M's tears and trying to get them to see it isn't the end of the world but thinking it might be. The worker who has worked with them since the birth of their baby sticks her neck out and advocates for them to have the kids back. I leave court exhausted but happy. M and B hug me as they go home to wait for their kids to return.

Then yesterday..................

M and B come in asking for food and stuff. I chat to M in th office about how they are and how we can help going forward she looks exhausted and is still very emotional. We put together some stuff for them and play with their baby girl who is seriously cute. B follows me into the office asking for a phone card. They leave hugging me and say see you Friday.............

My phone is gone also, it is almost certain that B took it whilst I was getting him a phone card as it was charging in the computer near where he stood. I am angry and sad, I cry and swear. Girls offer me money they've earned on the streets and one offers me a i-phone that was not bought at any apple store.

I am not really angry about the phone, its annoying especially as it is the second one I have had stolen. I am angry because I have helped these two more than anyone. Gemma rationalizes and bosses me about seeing a psychologist which I must and will do. But still I feel sad and angry- "Why steel from me? I help them. Thats it I am not helping them anymore!"

Sitting on the couch after the kids have gone to bed I hear the still quite voice and they conversation goes like this;

" You must love them with Great Love."

"Why should I? They don't love or respect me"

"Thats what Great Love is."

"but that's not fair and it is soo hard!."

"No but it is what it is- to love with no strings, unconditionally and continually despite what they do or say."

sigh "ok"

So there it is. To love expecting nothing in return is difficult, heart breaking and gets harder the more you get to know someone. But it is the core of what I believe and why I do what I do. So today I have made two resolves:

* To start seeing a psychologist that can help me stay mentally well, so I can continue to do what I do.

* To practice loving others as He has loved me- openly, with no strings and expecting nothing.

Foul Weather friends- for you my dear Olivia

An old and dear friend was killed yesterday and I am devastated. When my Tilly was little she spent so much time at his house that she called him Daddy Scott. He has left behind 3 beautiful girls and a wife who is truly the nicest woman you could ever meet. I haven't spoken to her because what do you say? I sent her a txt last night that simply said "sorry, we love you all."

I logged onto another blog that I haven't visited in quite sometime and there was the following devotion- It is perfect. I am going to print it out and give it to her when I see her but I wanted to share it with my fb friends who knew and loved Scott

How Can We Walk Through Life's Rain With You?

I wish I had a big red umbrella that would keep all the rain out of your life. I would hold it over your head and the drops would splash, splash and you would never even feel them.

But I don't have a big red umbrella...so I'll walk through the rain with you.

God doesn't intend for us to go through our storms alone. We all need our "foul weather friends" who will venture out into the weather with us.

There are two questions we must answer to not only survive but thrive through life's storms;

Who will walk through the rain with us? And will we let them?

Friends love through all kinds of weather. Proverbs 17:17 MSG

Devotional quote from the 365 Day Inspirational Calendar, Rain on Me based on the book, by Holley Gerth.

My dearesrt Livy and your beautiful little girls I love you all so much and will walk through this rain with you xxxx

Aliens living on planet earth

Imagine you are captured by aliens and transported to their planet dropped in the middle of one of their cities and then expected to live there, with no one to tell you how to act, what the social norms are, how simply to be normal, not excel, just not stand out from the crowed . On top of that imagine that everyone around you is waiting and believing you will fail. Your previous existence has labelled you for ever. From the very top politicians, to woman next door, they expect the worst.

Welcome to the life of people who are moving from the world of drug addiction to what they call the straight world.

The Life we all think is normal is completely alien to them. They do not know let alone understand our social nuances. They do not even know the first thing about living outside of crisis because crisis is all they have ever known.

Over and over again I here those who have never been addicted to drugs talk about how simple it must be- Just stop taking drugs and everything will be ok. In reality the actual act of not taking drugs anymore is the easy bit, and believe me it is not so easy . A girl was withdrawing from heroin where I work described it as every living cell in her body hurting and screaming for the drug. Just today another girl said "I'm on the done Louisa" "good" I say "No you don't understand I feel so straight now I have to deal with my actual thoughts."

We applaud those who move away and get clean and rightly so, but this is the beginning not the end. They are like small children in this straight and very confusing world of ours. One full of subtleties and unspoken, unwritten rules. And in reality does society really want them to fit in or do we want to be proved right that once a "bloody junky" always one?

Just like a baby they do not need our scrutiny or our negative comments but instead our compassion and understanding that what they are trying to do is massively difficult. They need us to celebrate each and every small victory along the way.

I am constantly reminded that I am only one or two decisions away from being where these fellow humans found themselves. I am not there to judge, but to love and sometimes I fail. I am sorry to those along the way to whom I have not loved like I could have, or to whom my expectations and lack of understanding of the enormity of the task, have hampered your recovery. I will try to love others as they should be loved: unconditionally, compassionately, and without and expectation of receiving something in return.

Alone and without an advocate

I arrived home from work yesterday to find Tilly's first school report waiting for me. I have been dreading this moment.

Those that know Tilly know that she is a bright flamboyant child who has a mind of her own.

The thing is she is struggling at school, struggling with being a round peg shoved in a square hole and the report shows it.

In teacher speak each person who sees her talked of Tilly needing assistance to learn and concentrate and become a functioning member of the class. Nicely for sure never using the words naughty or having lack of concentration but there it was for all to see.

She already has a reputation as being the "naughty child" from teachers and kids alike.

The only person who advocates and believes in her at school is her teacher who despite knowing Tilly last year chose to have her in her class.

Now that teacher is leaving for very personal family reasons and although I completely understand I am freaking out. Why? Because it means my little girl will be alone and without anyone who will advocate for her.

I am frightened she will be labelled and that is it for the rest of her school life. Thing is I know that underneath is a clever little girl, I just dont know how to help her show it.

Being a mother is the most difficult thing I have ever had to do because there is no control and no rules and everyone has an opinion of what is the right thing to do. Today I just feel over whelmed by it all. By the mountains of washing that never get put away, by the house that never stays tidy for more than 2 mins no matter how hard I try, but most of all by the deep aching desire for my kids to win at life and not being able to do a darn thing about it.

"Ogres are like onions...... they have layers"

I need to qualify the title of this post, I am not implying that the woman I work with are Ogres. It is, for those lucky people that don't have to sit through animated features, a quote from Shrek where Shrek tries to explain to Donkey that he , being an ogre, is not a simple creature but complex and like an onion has layers.

So to are the woman I work with, complex I mean. Years of marginalization and chaotic lifestyle has lead to layers upon layers of issues that need to be dealt with if they are to move forward and reintegrate into society. Each and every time I think I have helped to better someones life there it is another layer as big and as complex as the last waiting there. The task is enormous and will take years if it can ever happen at all. And I am looking from the outside- what must it feel like to be them? No wonder some choose to give up, remain where they are.

There are days where I feel overwhelmed, feel useless and wonder what the hell I am doing. Last week I had one of those nights where thoughts of "my girls" as I have started to see them kept me up. I felt grief for the woman who lost her fight for her children and was told not to cry by the judge who was taking them away, joy for the couple who's son was being returned but fear that they might slip backwards and loose everything, angst about the need to protect the innocent whilst supporting a womans right to be given an opportunity to get it right this time,the list goes on.....onions

We, and I include myself in this, want a quick fix, a magic wand to wave, a band aid. Through money at it and it will be ok type of thing.

The truth is that that is not the way through. These woman and 1000's like them need people who are willing to walk life with them; To love them, when they cant love themselves, to put up with their anger and hate which will often be metered out to you simply because you are there, to hold up there arms in battle as they try and fight through. They need a community.

This is not up to a government agency or support service it is up to each one of us as human beings. It is up to each and everyone of us whether we work for a not for profit or are the CEO of a bank.

It is the essence of Small things with Great love- I cannot feed all the homeless in Victoria but I can feed and build relationship with the one who lives just down the road; I can not bring home every person who needs a home, but I can write letters to our PM so the homeless have a voice; I can talk to the mother in the playground who non of the other mothers will talk to because she is a single mum who is obviously poor; I can have a cup of tea with the lonely old lady down the road............

Not world changing stuff? No, but if we all did it I wonder how different it would be? If we each helped deal with 1 layer could we together change lives? Hmm I wonder