Painfully / Honest

I sat in the bar, chatting with my sister. Being able to lay my heart and mind open without self-censorship was healing in itself. We were discussing how to go about talking honestly with people about our struggles.

My take on it is this: I have absolutely no desire to make people uncomfortable, and I know that there are appropriate and less appropriate times and ways to share stuff. But I cannot be part of communities where we are obliged to hide our brokenness. Maybe it was possible for me at other times, but it’s not right now. Pretending that everything’s fine is a lie, and one that’s too painful to carry on top of the other stuff. I would rather be without community than be part of one that is not real. 

During our conversation, we also talked about my frustrations with being ‘that person’ again, the one who’s not okay yet again, the one who’s still crying despite the fact that we prayed for her the last three weeks. 

The imposition. 

My sister said a hundred wise things that evening, and my memory is too poor to remember many of them. But one thing she said spoke to me so deeply. 

‘We are all broken. And that is okay’.

And it wasn’t said like, ‘that’s okay for now, but you should probably sort yourself out sometime soon’. It was from a place of complete acceptance and peace with all of our broken bits.

Some of you reading will, I imagine, feel mega-uncomfortable with all of this kind of talk. Emotions and vulnerability and being exposed etc.  But whether it’s a relative’s death or depression or a broken relationship or a secret regret, we all have our little broken bits.  Yes, mine are more obvious at the moment. They feel more like gaping sores than little scars. But that is okay. I’m still alive; I’m still valuable and loved. I still have worth and can still contribute, in the midst of and despite of my brokenness.

I’m not saying I want to be allowed to wail loudly during sermons. I don’t need people to ask me in-depth questions about the things I am struggling with. I’m just suggesting that there are things we can all do to make our communities places which welcome people who are not ‘sorted’, a space for people who are hurting as well as those who rejoice.  The Christian faith sums up perfectly the bittersweet paradox where sorrow and joy sit alongside one another. I would love for our communities to be the same.

With thanks to my little communities who accept me as I am :-) x

New Year, Old Me: a strategy for positivity

New Years Eve: so much excitement, joy, wondering about what 2015 will bring… 

Y’know what I want to say to the girl in those NYE photos?

“YOU’RE A FOOL! IT SUCKS!”

Okay, apologies, not the most cheery way to start a blog post (and my first of 2015 at that). But it is based on these two key points:

a)      I was really excited about a new year, making the most of every day, doing a new photo challenge (oops) and finishing 2014’s photo challenge ( …oops again). This was the year everything was going to be epic, full of growth and good things 

b) It took approximately three days for the new year’s high to wear off, and to wonder when January would be over. 

Again, I know this is all very negative. I try to be a positive person. I love the idea of cherishing life and living each day to the full. But when each day seems to bite you on the bum, it gets hard, y’know?

Pretty much most of 2015 so far, I’ve not been in a great place. I kind of forgot about hope and joy and all of those things, and a grey smog came down. I don’t know why it’s been like that. I think it’s partly the weather and the come-down from Christmas, some difficult conversations and the small fact that I have an anxiety disorder… but I’m not a fan of this life-hating me. 

I’m not prepared to drag myself through each day, from one anxious episode to the next, staring at the clock and looking forward to bed time. Life is too precious for that. 

This thing I’m fighting is a monster and a lot of days it feels like it’s winning. But I’m not going down without a fight. 

(Excuse the corny action-movie rhetoric – it’s true).

There’s a lot of stuff I can’t fix on my own on a Monday night, like why I get anxious or terror threats or the fact that it’s freezing and work is stressful.

But, there are little things I can do in the fight for hope – my Strategy for Positivity. 

There’s a disclaimer before I list them. I know from my own experience that all these little frivolous things will not make you feel okay if you are in a bad place. (That’s why I haven’t been able to write this blog for the last two weeks). 

But once you surface enough to find the energy to fight, like I appear to have done this evening, then little, frivolous things can bring light where gloom has set in. 

My personal list includes (in no particular order): Clearance Christmas chocolate; nail varnish colours; watching box sets (I would highly recommend New Girl); making a list of reasons to be positive/reasons to keep fighting; central heating; trying new carb-a-licious recipes (even if they don’t turn out well). 

And as for the real, less frivolous stuff? Talk to someone. Spend some time (once you’ve got the energy to) working out a plan of action, what help you might need and how to go about getting it. Get some exercise (even if it’s only on an exercise bike in front of the TV), get some sleep. If you’re a Christian, remind yourself (or get someone else to remind you) about the unshakeable hope you have in Jesus. And if you’re not a Christian… maybe now is a pretty good time to find out about that hope.

:-)

Here’s to a Happier January.

Thanks for making it REAL

Those Facebook '2014 round up' things are a great way of summarising the year in pictures. But only after publishing it did I realise that it's actually not all been plain sailing. There have been many happy times - this isn't a 'woe is me' blog.

But to ignore the reality of the more bitter moments is to wallpaper over the reality of life, and pretend we live in a Disney film. And as much as I would like to do that sometimes (hello John Smith), it's not true and it's not helpful.

So much of this season can boil down to a pressure to be happy, lighthearted and suddenly forget the normal ups and downs of the last 364 days. We don't help ourselves or others by doing this.

So here's how my year really looked:

2014 was Sunday roasts with friends. Coffees in the city; yellow flowers, Ben & Jerry's and a solitary to-die-for brownie at the end of a rough day.

Job interviews, life admin, wedding prep with invites, découpage and jam jars. Playing keys for the first time in church and doing life with home group. Ecstatic dancing to good news and prayers graciously answered. Goodbyes and all the loss that comes with it. Turbulence and turmoil, new homes and IKEA flatpacks.

Weddings and gatherings and new homes. The cementing of friendships through laughter, prayer, occasional tears and always tea. Discovering that the things you've longed for don't look how you expected them to. The rearing up of old beasts; good friends, chocolate, and a LOT of patience. Brokenness, openness and sheer gritting of teeth.

Walks through Greenwich park in the sunshine and watching Morris Dancers on the heath. The walk from the boys' house to our flat. The loss of dear ones, friendships, and a silver ring somewhere in west London. Waffles, fancy dress and awkward cookies in Hyde Park.

Street food on the Southbank; Monday nights with Tingley; reunions with many wonderful people I'm blessed to call friends. Roadtrips with Lydia and getting acquainted with east London. A thawing out and a going deeper. Bridesmaiding for two really special ladies in my life; new friendships, fireworks, poppies.

Thank you to everyone who made this year REAL in all its joys and imperfections.

Here's to the next...

On Birthdays

Tomorrow heralds yet another change in life, the transition from one age to another. My 24th Birthday.

Now I realise it's probably very uncool to get excited about my birthday by 24. I think by now I'm meant to be at the 'I'm over that', 'Oh, I don't really celebrate my birthday anymore' stage.

But, screw that.
I am turning TWENTY-FOUR tomorrow. And given that I spend most of my life still feeling like a ten-year old, 24 is a pretty big deal.

Now maybe this is just the childish narcissist inside me (it may well be), but I find it sad when people don't celebrate their birthdays, or shrugg it off as 'any other day'.

Your life is no less of a miracle than it was when you were a child. Sometimes, your life is even more of a miracle than it was then. Sure, it's old news perhaps, but it's BRILLIANT news. You've lived another year!

Maybe the idea of celebrating it with a certain person missing just feels impossible, and I respect that.

Or maybe it's just been a really tough year.  But if so, even more reason to mark the day in some way: you made it through, or, at least, you're still standing. As the years go on I imagine that the birthday may become a time of mixed feelings - am I 'where I should be'? Every year, reaching an age where it's more normal to 'settle down', get married and, in several years, start popping out children.

BUT for me, and I hope for you, the Birthday will be a day of celebration, joy and thanksgiving. I am alive; nothing has destroyed me or my hope. I know Jesus (and this is surely enough reason to celebrate on its own). I am happy, and I am free. I don't know what lies ahead (except for the next month of changes), and I'm peaceful about that. I have health and I have people whom I love and who love me back.

Sure, it's only twenty-four; no big milestone for the card-makers. But it's another year of life, and for that I will rejoice.