The Power of One (plus One plus One...)

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I still have paint on my fingernails from all the painting I did yesterday. Three quarters of my hallway is now complete. (I'll show you all soon.)

I'm sitting here at my trendy new white trestle desk, in my half-painted hallway remembering how troubled I was as I spent the day rollering the walls and thinking about the gross display of bullying New Zealand had witnessed on X-Factor the night before.

Two judges (a husband and wife couple, Willy Moon and Natalia Kills) had gone after a contestant and skewered him with cruel words, taunting him, calling him disgusting and creepy among (many) other terrible things.

See for yourself (if you haven't already)...

The contestant, a socially awkward chap called Joe, who is usually prone to tears, stood his ground bravely in the face of their bullying tirade.

By the morning New Zealand was in an uproar. There were petitions going around and Facebook Pages set up to try and get the pair of judges sacked; two major corporate sponsors (2degrees and McDonalds) complained to TV3 about "unacceptable behaviour", countless official complaints had been made to the broadcasting standards authority and even Simon Cowell's production company were investigating this "bringing of their show into disrepute." The debacle even made headlines around the world on massive webzines like Daily Mail, People and Buzzfeed.

By the afternoon, they were gone. Sacked, given the boot, gone-burgers.

I never thought it would happen (my kids never thought it would happen).
We thought the best we could hope for was a lame apology and a rap over the knuckles. But no.
It was great to be able to say to my kids, See, it doesn't pay to be a bully. Look what happens when people stand up to bullies. One person can make a difference!

[Source]

Apparently New Zealand really is serious about sending a message to bullies.
The way the whole country responded with a resounding "THIS IS NOT OK!" was pretty awesome.
It's unheard of, really.
Judges on a show like this being sacked in the middle of a season???
Unbelievable.

And who made it happen? All the little people who hate bullying.
All the little people who signed the petition (like me). Over 70,000 in less than a day.
The big people in those corporates who saw a mass of little people making a fuss and for once, used their influence for good (money talks).
And the big wigs who actually listened and did something unprecedented.

I mean, who does that?
Well, apparently here in New Zealand, WE DO!

The power of One (plus one plus one); a tide of voices on social media. Clicktivism.
It's a form of democracy, really, with pretty powerful results!

As I read through the comments which accompanied the Herald article link on Facebook, I saw one comment which really struck me:

"Yep, we used our voices to get rid of of some bullies and see justice done. Awesome New Zealand! Now how about that cyclone in Vanuatu? What we gonna do about that now we're on a roll...???"

Makes you think doesn't it?
Imagine what we could do if we got this up-in-arms and motivated about the cyclone victims in the Pacific. Child poverty. Human trafficking.
Just think what we could achieve.
I wonder why mostly we don't speak out, use our collective voices to demand action, influence change, do something?
And I wonder why sometimes, like in this situation, WE DO?
  

An Open Letter to John Key (not about Snapper)

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Dear John Key
I am one of the people who voted you into government in the last two elections. (Silly me.)
Recently your comments about New Zealanders caring more about snapper than about their right to privacy have disturbed me deeply. I am not usually particularly political, I dwell in the Centre of the political spectrum, usually leaning slightly to the right. I'm conservative and usually tend to avoid controversy and political debate. I am not a political activist. I don't have an axe to grind or a political agenda.

But you John Key (with the GCSB Bill and your dismissive comments about voters like me) you have awoken my sleeping sense of political justice and provoked me into speaking out.

[source ]

You say, "If you've nothing to hide, you've nothing to fear..."
I beg to differ.
I fear that we are not being listened to by our politicians.
I fear that you are pushing through unwanted legislation that you have no mandate for while hoping we will be distracted by fishing quotas.
I fear you are completely ignorant of the fact that you are alienating your own voters by treating us like we are stupid.
That's what I fear, John.

We don't want this legislation. We don't want our information traded to the USA, we don't want our Government spying on us - even though we are upstanding citizens who contribute to our community and "have nothing to hide".

One day a government might decide that what we consider to be freedom of speech is suddenly subversive or dangerous. That is a chance I don't want to take.

I have lost all confidence in you and your Government.
Pushing through unwanted laws "for our own good" and changing forever the fabric of our country.
Telling us we don't understand, distracting us with snapper.
I'm insulted. And annoyed. Angry even.

I have three children who will reap the harvest of these spying laws. Who knows what kind of people will one day take this information and bend and twist it for their own benefit?
We are not stupid John (except for me. I am a bit stupid for voting for you - twice - but I won't make that mistake again.)

Don't think that just because the Opposition are in disarray your disillusioned voters won't jump ship come Election time.
Remember the Anti-smacking legislation? That was a bridge too far for Labour. Even their own supporters couldn't swallow that one being rammed through for "their own good".
And this is a bridge too far for you now.

I just hope that if enough of us speak up and use our freedom of speech while we still can, a couple of flip-floppers might just flop our way and defeat this legislation.

from your former (very disappointed) supporter
.........................

Here Endeth the Letter.

[photos sourced from this photo story on the GCSB protest march on Idealog]

Now my Kiwi readers, watch this video and hear John say it with his own words:
New Zealanders care more about Snapper than the GCSB

If you are horrified (as I was) go and vote on John Campbell's opinion poll...
Have your say on the GCSB Bill

And then "like" this page
Stop the GCSB Bill

And if you want to read more here's an excellent blog post on the subject by Sophie Slim
And a somewhat controversial article on Stuff:
Why you should care about the GCSB Bill

Or start a conversation with your friends on Facebook (like my friend did... it was pages long; here's just a snippet with the surnames blocked out. But the spies would be able to hack us and find out what we said if the bill goes through...)

Now I'm off to go and email Peter Dunne (our best chance of a vote switch) peter.dunne@parliament.govt.nz

Nia Would Have Been Eight

I sit on the end of the bed staring at my daughter’s sleeping face. She shifts, sighs and turns, a picture of tranquillity.

My daughter is eight. She made it past three, past four, five, six and seven with no major injuries. She has never been beaten or kicked in the head. She is healthy, strong and well fed. Her soft skin is unmarked by scabies or ingrained dirt. She is regularly washed, fed, clothed, celebrated and loved.

Nobody has ever put my daughter in a tumble dryer to see what would happen if they turned it on.

Nobody ever stuck her on top of a clothesline and spun it and spun it until she fell off.

Unlike poor Nia Glassie.

Tonight as I watched Nia’s story on Beyond the Darklands I realised that if she had survived, Nia would now be the same age as my girl.

Eight years old.

Poor Nia only made it to three.

In her whole life did anybody love her or show her kindness?

Was there ever a time when Nia wasn’t the butt of everybody’s joke? Did anybody ever pick her up and wipe her tears after yet another day spent being shoved and slapped and told she was ugly?

My heart broke for this sad neglected little girl, unkempt, left hungry to stand in the rain and play in the dirt. So grubby that the nurses in the hospital couldn’t scrub the grime from her unconscious little body, it was so ingrained.

It goes against nature! I cried as I listened to Nia’s mother tell the police how she knew what was happening to her daughter. Yet she still left her in the so-called care of people who only saw her as a nuisance and a scapegoat. She allowed another woman to slap her little girl across the face and head and call her ugly. She saw it and she said nothing, did nothing. This mother knew these people were hurting her daughter but she repeatedly walked away and let it happen. She did nothing to save or protect or rescue her baby.

My heart broke for Nia, lying unconscious on the bed after being kicked in the head by two grown men.

She was ignored for a night and a day as she lay unconscious. Oh they tried to wake her up by putting her in a cold bath, but when that didn’t work did they take her to a doctor? No, they put her back in the bed and left her while they had a birthday party for the man who kicked her head in.

Nia my heart breaks for you.

I wish somebody could have told you how beautiful you were.

I wish you’d had somebody to wash you and dress you in pretty clothes and comb your hair and dance with you and cuddle you and sing to you. If only you had somebody who could have sat by your bed and read you bedtime stories, tucked you in and kissed you goodnight.

If only somebody had cared about you enough to take you away from the people who hurt you. Or to call the police when they saw you on the clothesline, or heard your screaming.

Nia you deserved a better life.

You deserved to paint pictures and have somebody hang them proudly on the wall. Someone to take your photo a thousand times, not just once. One photo is all we have to show us that you were not ugly, but beautiful and full of potential which was snuffed out, destroyed and demolished in the most callous of ways.

Nia’s story touched my heart tonight. I knew the story, I remember it on the news, but tonight I saw the contrast between my daughter, so loved and protected, and Nia, so neglected and abused.

What breaks my heart is not just Nia’s awful death, but her awful life.

What breaks my heart the most is that tonight as I write this, Nia’s sorry story is still being played out in homes around my country. Other little girls and boys are crying themselves to sleep, afraid of what might happen to them come morning.

Nothing has changed.

I find myself asking the same question a friend of mine asked when she watched this programme: What can I do about it?

It’s a question that will keep ringing in my heart until I think of something. Because as a mother, the thought of children continuing to live and die neglected, abused and unloved is beyond bearing.

Nia's Story on Beyond the Darklands...

Politically Correct Bullpucky

This is a post I just have to get out of my system. You'll either love it or hate it.
Agree loudly or disagree vehemently. That's OK. I can handle a difference of opinion (I think).

Here's the scenario:

I'm not sporty myself, but my kids are. They get it from their dad. Before my kids started playing sport, I would have probably agreed with the "everybody gets a turn" "winning doesn't matter" scenario. Mr G would come home from his football games and I'd ask how it went (meaning did you have fun and enjoy it) and was baffled when his reply was all about whether they won or not. Winning and results didn't used to matter to me. I didn't get it at all.

But then I become a "soccer mum". I watched my kid excelling at sport. I became excited when we won a game, and was gutted when we lost. Now Miss Fab turns out to be a natural athlete and agreat little netballer, so I have become an enthusastic Netball supporter too. I'm one of those loud shouting cheering mothers who lose their voice by the end of the game. I love watching them play, and compete and give their best.

Team Sport is a brilliant thing for kids to engage in. They learn so much, and so do we. About life, being part of a team, playing by the rules, listening to the coach, winning and losing graciously... and fairness.

My gripe with the Politically Correct Brigade comes down to fairness.

What is "fair", anyway?
When it comes to kids and sport, does "fairness" mean everybody gets a turn no matter what?

Everybody gets Player of the Day at some point (even if they don't deserve it)?
Everybody gets to play key positions (even if they're hopeless and it costs the team the game)?

Is that really fair to the team? Losing week after week when they are actually a really good team who have a chance at winning if everyone is playing in the right position? How demoralising is that?
Oh I forgot that winning doesn't matter, just participating.

We dumb everything down so nobody wins and everybody gets a prize. Doesn't this only encourage mediocrity and discourage excellence?
This is the way of the Politically Correct Brigade, and it makes me livid.

We adults in all our "wisdom" seem to have commandeered the concept of fairness and replaced genuine reward for achievement and effort* [see below] with "everybody gets a turn" bullpucky.
At the cost of true fairness, which recognises effort and achievement* and rewards it accordingly.
In a well-intentioned attempt to help boost the self esteem of kids who are not as "good at sport" as others, we actually detract from what recognition and reward* really means.

Instead of rewarding a gutsy performance with Player of the Day, we feel compelled to give in to the mother who turns up demanding the trophy for her child who "hasn't had it yet" (despite the fact that the child has actually done nothing that day to actually deserve it).

Then we have to try and explain this decision to our angry child who is railing against the blatant unfairness; why the child who did nothing to help the outcome of the game got rewarded, while the rest of the team who worked and sweated and never stopped trying went home empty-handed.

"Any of them deserved it more than her, mum, any of them!"
"It's not fair!" she wails, and she's right.

The real world beyond school doesn't work this way.
Nobody got a medal at the Olympics because "they hadn't had one yet."
Michael Phelps didn't have to hand over his haul to his team-mates because he already had a gold and they didn't.
The very idea is plainly ridiculous.

Do we think our kids don't understand this?
They are smarter than we think.
They see through our attempt at so-called fairness and know that they are just "having a turn" at the trophy. They feel no elation or sense of pride if they know they didn't deserve it, haven't actually won it.
Actually, they feel stink because they know their team-mates resent it.
Better if they were given the trophy on a day they really did something.
An award has to mean something, or everybody loses out.
If something is easy to get, it means nothing.

Our kids understand this already. They already know what fair is, and what it isn't.
Something in them tells them it is so. An internal fairness compass that hasn't yet been skewed by political correctness and people-pleasing.

Handing out "turn trophies" is meaningless, and they know it.
Their self esteem is not built by us endlessly telling them they are great.
It's built by them feeling good about what they can do; knowing they are competent. Then and only then does our praise in their ears ring true.
Otherwise, their little hearts dismiss our words, saying "You're just saying that cos you're my mum."
Kids are smart.

Let's not pretend otherwise.
If we must, let's have two trophies.
One we take turns with (to satisfy the PC Brigade) and one that is a true recognition of effort and achievement.
So it means something. So they can truly take pride in themselves when they get it.
(I know which one my kids would rather have...)

There. I said it.
My two cents worth.

Now it's your turn. Thoughts, anyone?

....................

*CLARIFICATION: By "Effort and Achievement" I don't only mean the top players or the ones who score the goals etc; I mean the ones who really try, give their best, work hard. My objection to "taking turns" is when it is given undeservedly. You really should have done something to deserve it - e.g. listened to the coach, remembered what you learned at training etc etc. Not because your mum complains. 

P.S. I also think sport is great for kids regardless of their ability (I would have benefitted from netball myself as a kid, despite my unco-ness). As long as the kids try, work, train, practise, do their best, that's what sport is about. Standing there watching the ball go past and THEN getting player of the day is what I object to.
Phew. Hopefully I've cleared that one up? 

He Told Me So

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Last night I am on my way to the loo when hubby bellows from the bedroom: "Babe! Get in here!"
I keep going, while shouting over my shoulder, "WHAT???"
"You've gotta see this! Come!"
Thinking it's something funny he's found on YouTube, I don't alter my course.
Eventually business completed, I wander up to the computer to see what all the fuss is about.

Hubby is waving at the screen excitedly, pointing, stabbing at something that looks to me like a joke.
"See!?! Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say it? She's a drug cheat. Look!"

My eyes are struggling to take in what they're seeing.
Ostapchuk, the girl-who-looks-like-a-bloke and who beat NZ's Valerie Adams to Shotput Olympic Gold has been stripped of her Gold Medal. Valerie, who won silver with a Beijing besting throw that was not good enough for some sections of the media, has been elevated from second to first.
She gets Gold, after all.

Hubby is beaming, proud of himself because he really did say it.

When Ostapchuk was standing there with the gold medal around her neck, looking for all the world like Benny Hill's twin brother, my insightful man said, "I'll bet she's been doing drugs. She's on steroids for sure. What's the bet she'll get stripped of her Gold and Valerie will get it after all?"

I kid you not. He told me so.
At the time I thought it was wishful (if rather judgemental) thinking.
I mean the poor girl couldn't help looking like a bloke, could she?
Does her mannishness automatically mean she's a steroid cheat?

Well, yes. Apparently so.

She threw the furtherest by taking drugs. She cheated. She gambled and she lost. She got found out, caught, stripped and shamed. For the sake of 63cm she is now a pariah.

Ostapchuk nicked the Gold by devious foul play, robbing Val of her Golden moment, but the memory of her moment of glory will forever be ashes in her mouth. She'll always be labelled a drug cheat. A by-word, a morality tale that "Cheaters never prosper."
No hero's welcome will await for Ostapchuk.

Val never got to hear our national Anthem played in her honour in the Olympic Stadium.
Ostapchuk stole that moment from her along with the Gold medal. that makes me sad for Valerie.

But although the Drug Cheat stole Val's Golden moment, she gets to keep something far more valuable:
Her honour, her reputation and her good name. Knowing that she continues to be a strong young woman who inspires young girls to be all they can be, overcome adversity and come out on top. The satisfaction of knowing she's a winner who doesn't need to cheat to be the best.

And Valerie gets to come home to a hero's welcome.
Something worth even more than Gold.

• News Story and Valerie Adams' reaction here

................
P.S. For those who care about medal tallies, this gives little NZ, population 4 Million, a total of SIX GOLD MEDALS, only one less than Australia. Not bad huh?

Shame on You, Media Meanies!

I've been feeling sick to my stomach lately. Partly it's the fluey headcold I'm fighting off, but largely it's the Olympics. Not the Olympics themselves, rather the sniping finger-pointing negativity that is emerging from some sections of the media.

I'm not usually one for controversy, but I have to get this out. I have a platform, I have things to say, so darnit, I'm gonna have my two cents worth and tell off some big meanies...
Right, Media people, here it comes.

Firstly, I object to the way you said Valerie Adams "failed to defend her title". Failed?
You choose to use that word? Sniping about poor form and disappointing performance when the poor lass worked her ass off for the past four years, is in the best shape of her life and threw the shotput further than she did at Beijing when she won Gold.
She did awesome. She failed NOTHING.
The other girl just threw further. Valerie did everything she could.

And then. I think it's rather poor sportsmanship and comes off sounding extremely whiney to then make such a song and dance about the admin muck-up and blame it for Valerie's "failure".

Discovering that she wasn't on the list would have been extremely stressful for Valerie. To find out at the start of competition that you're not registered because someone forgot to send your form in? To be kept out of the Olympic stadium so you can't practise because of a clerical cock-up? Terrible. Awful. Nightmarish.

But do you know what? Valerie herself is not blaming that mess for not winning Gold.
She's not making excuses.
She said, "I left my heart out there on the field and it just wasn't enough."
So please can the media stop focusing on the negative and blaming and accusing.
It makes us all look bad. Like poor sports, sore losers, whiney babies.

An Olympic Silver is nothing to be ashamed of. Second in the world? Amazing.
Valerie you did awesome. And yes we WILL continue to support you. You did NOT disappoint us. You did NOT let us down. Chin up, girl, you did yourself (and us) proud.

NEXT....!

[Sir John Walker - quick to stick the knife in - SHAME ON YOU!]

Sir John Walker I am extremely disappointed in you and your meanness about 1500 metre runner, Nick Willis.
He ran a great heat, and a good semi final. The time he ran in the semi final would have won him Silver. But guess what? His legs failed him. He had a bad race at the worst possible moment. All his medal hopes and everything he'd worked for over the past four years went out the window.

Having trained and sacrificed and worked for the last four years, to have your body fail you at the most crucial moment? Beyond heartbreaking.

Poor Nick was devastated, but managed to be humble and gracious in his interview only minutes after picking himself up off the ground and remains generous in the face of stinging criticism.

That's a champion, right there.
You could stand to learn a thing or two from this guy.  Nick is a superb athlete who represents our country proudly; he deserves our support through good times and bad.

Come on John Walker. You know what its like when the media get their knives out. I seem to remember a time when you were called a "has-been" yourself.
Where is your empathy? Where is your heart?
I have lost all respect for you, because of your eagerness to jump on the back-stabbing bandwagon.
You of all people should know better.

[Some of the captions and headlines make my blood boil]

As for the rest of you, who were tucked up warm in your beds all those mornings when Valerie and Nick and co. were up slogging away to try and win New Zealand a medal, back off will you?
How about a backslap? A thank you? Or a Goodonya mate, you tried your best with few resources and little support?

How about quitting asking the stupidest most inane questions of these athletes the second they stagger from the competition? Stop pointing out the obvious, rubbing salt in wounds, kicking them while they're down?

We are a tiny weeny little country who's entire population is smaller than most average cities in the many of the countries we are competing with. And yet, without sports academies, corporate sponsorship or government support these athletes have sacrificed their own time, sweat and tears and have still managed to produce world class performances.

Our athletes can hold their heads high.  They have given their all. None of them have embarrassed us. There's not a cheat or whiner or show-pony among them.
Every single one of our Kiwi athletes has done us proud. Thanks to their hard work, our tiny country punches above its weight in the sporting arena, seeing off competitors from bigger countries with better funding and more resources.

New Zealand athletes are a force to be reckoned with. They compete with heart and guts; they go above and beyond the call of duty. They wear the black singlet with pride.
The least we can do is cheer them on and not stab them in the back when they don't get the results we might have been hoping for.

Come on Kiwi Media, you can do better.

Watch it and Weep

{Source}

I'm having a crappy couple of days. The old Black Dog has sneaked up on me and has been snapping at my heels. Anxious and overwhelmed for no explainable reason, I am hiding here in the safety of my house.

Reading through some blog posts by friends, I came across a clip shared by Remaliah which moved me indescribably. I have to share it with you.

This is The Church in action.
This is what Jesus wants us to do.

Watching it lifted me, and now I feel capable of going into the kitchen, washing the crusty pile of last night's dishes and baking my sister (who is in hospital with pneumonia) some gluten-free cookies.

Watch it, really. It will inspire you too.

{Shine 2010 Recap from Flatirons Community Church on Vimeo.}

Bags of Hope

I'll bet you're like me when you heard about the latest Christchurch Earthquake.
Stunned. Horrified. Sickened.
That's three big earthqakes since September, for those of you in other parts of the world.

Three earthquakes squishing up tonnes of silt liquefaction through lawns and roads and homes.

Three times having to clean it all up.

Three earthquakes toppling homes off cliffs.
Three earthquakes smashing irreplaceable architecture.
Three earthquakes destroying water and sewerage lines to thousands of homes.

Thousands of people using portaloos for nearly a year. Old people. Pregnant women. Little kids.
Thousands of people without running water.

Thousands of people waiting for the verdict on whether their suburbs will be bulldozed leaving them... where?

Thousands of devastated people living in limbo, shaken awake by aftershocks, every tremor reinforcing the insecurity of their lives in the wake of three earthquakes.
One was bad enough.
Two was heartrending, devastating.
But how do you come back from three?
How do you find the heart to do it all over again... and hope that this time is the last time?

I sit here in my safe house with its running water and indoor flush toilet watching the stories every night on TV and feel... helpless.

So when I got an email from a reader asking for my help to share a way to bring hope... of course I jumped at it. Here's her email...

Hey, My name is Kerry aka KezHarry, and im an avid follow of your blog

I was wondering if you could at all help me/us/chch with your blog, we have started an wee project (massive project really) in our church in rangiora, we are only a wee church but one with a big vision and a huge God! so he has set the mandate to bless east chch with 10,000 bags of hope, a huge task when there is only 150-200 of us in our church.

Hope, Faith and Love, we are stepping out in all three and man does chch ever need Hope! recent new reports have been so sad seeing their wearing disposition.

...in the september quake we sent teams of people into kaiapoi area, plus loads of baking etc and worked there with everyone else for a few days.
obviously the feb earthquake effected everyone and we really hit the ground again but this time in full force areas and one of our church members helped set up and organised 'the rangiora earthquake express' which brought food and water via private and army helicopters into the eastern suburbs and sumner, it was the weirdest sight seeing helicopters flying over every 20mins.



We also called our big brothers and sisters in at Hamilton Life [church] and they sent down 35 people to help out, we hired 2 diggers and with heaps of strong backs we shovelled out 45 properties in the east, we also put on public breakfasts in parks which people could come and get a free hot feed. Plus there has been so many individuals doing their bit too.


At every earthquake we have sought God to guild us in what to do and this time around its the bags of hope.


For every earthquake I have felt a bit usless, I was 9 weeks preggy in September, 9 months preggy in feb and now i have a beautiful wee 11 week old boy that needs me, so shovelling hasnt been the way for me, so baking and emailing it is!


...


"Bags of Hope" might not remove the silt or fix the water supply. But it does send a message of solidarity to these stricken families from the rest of us. It says, we haven't forgotten you, we give a damn.
The artwork contained in the bag (in the red and black Canterbury colours) will be a visual reminder of that.

Each cellophane bag will contain:

 A block mounted art piece (with sponsors name and town/city on the back)

 A block of Chocolate

 4+ Coffee/Hot Chocolate sachets

People can sponsor one bag or hundreds. Each bag will cost around $NZ5. A sponsor's name and hometown will be on the back of the artwork so the recipient knows it comes from a person, not just an organisation.

 

Here's how we can help these guys in their mission to give a "Bag of Hope" to 10,000 families in the eastern suburbs of Christchurch...
 
 Visit the Website with all information and links to the Facebook page & Twitter
 Sponsor a bag, or a few. Online donations can be made via this fundraising page
Thanks guys.
♥

Images found on GoogleImage

Why I Can't Stay Silent

An advertisement came on while we were watching TV the other night: John Kirwan, former All Black talking about his depression.
JK is a hero to so many of us. Because he spoke up.
He stepped out from behind silence and said, "ME. I suffer from Depression."
When I watch those commercials I nearly cry.

You see, so many people, most people in fact, don't get it. They don't understand what Depression is. What causes it. How far reaching it is. How long-lasting. How debilitating.

Depression is not a feeling.
It's not the feeling you get when you're having a bad hair day.
It's not something that goes away once the sun comes out.

There's a difference between the depression that comes when something awful happens to you - some tragic loss or grief - and the clinical kind.
The first kind of depression is situational.

The kind of depression I'm talking about is Clinical.
It's a medical condition. There are malfunctioning chemicals in our brains. It affects our thought processes, our emotions, even our spirituality.
We can't just think our way to positivity. That's like telling a man with broken legs to just walk his way to better mobility.
And it's beyond our control, it's not something we can snap out of. Really - we've tried.

Well-meaning advice to a depressed person just heaps up guilt...

"Oh but look at all the things you have to be thankful for! There are lots more people worse off in the world than you, you know..."

Yeah, we know.

But the added guilt really helps. Thanks!

Depression is a bugger.
It doesn't just affect the sufferer; it impacts our families too.

Spare a thought for the partners of people like me, who have to shoulder our load as well as their own when we crash.

Spare a thought for our kids who too often see us crying, anxious, overwhelmed. And the guilt that comes with the knowledge, the fear that our struggles are affecting them in ways we can only guess at.

I'm writing this to give understanding to those of you who are blessed to not live with this Menace.
Because I can guarantee there are people in your life who suffer with this. After all One in Five people in the general population will suffer some form of mental illness during their lifetime.

Probably they haven't told you for fear of rejection, misunderstanding, judgement... or that well-meaning guilt-inducing advice.

I know when I was diagnosed I found it so hard to tell people.
There were some friends I tried to tell. I went to their homes to spill the beans, but just couldn't get the words out. I didn't want them to think badly of me or stop being my friend because I was not the same person any more.
I couldn't speak. My words froze on my tongue. I left without sharing, wishing I was braver.
Lots of people saw the change in me, and misjudged the reason.
Where I had been an out-front make-it-happen person, I became a background-dweller, an early-leaver, a no-sayer.

"What's happened to Simone?" some people wondered. But hardly anybody asked.
"Ahhh she's got her man now, and she's off living her life..." was the conclusion many came to.

No. I wasn't. I was struggling in my own private hell, subject to storms of anger and tears. Panicky and anxious over the smallest things, like walking down a busy street. Wondering what on earth was happening to me, was I going crazy?

There was no Depression.org back then. No John Kirwan sharing his story and helping remove the stigma.
I didn't know where to turn for help.
We suffered in ignorance, not knowing what we were facing.
But now I know.

Clinical Depression has been with me ten years and counting.
That's depressing in itself, isn't it?
I never imagined I would still be struggling after this long.
Sometimes its hard to remember what normal even is.
Sometimes its hard to hold onto hope that I can ever be free of this.

My emotional dinghy is sitting real close to the water-line. Rock the boat just a little and I get swamped.
Add anything to what I'm carrying and the tide rushes in.
When all is calm and peaceful, I am OK. Coping.
But anyone with kids will know how rare peace is!

Just so you know, Depressed people are often hard to spot.
We don't go around crying 24/7. Quite often we do make it out of bed.
You might even find us talking and laughing, throwing parties and making friends.
But these things take their toll. And some days, like when there's financial pressure or the kids are sick or playing up or we're tired, hormonal, changing our meds... our backs get broken with that last little straw.
And the roof caves in, the rain leaks through and everyone in our house gets wet.

So I'm speaking up for all my sisters (and brothers); those who don't have the ability to put into words what they wish they could tell you. Those who fear the stigma, the shame of the label "mental illness". Damn, even now its hard to type that.

A friend turned up on my doorstep on Friday. She said, "I've come to do some housework for you. What needs doing?"
I love her. We never quite got to the housework, but the cuppa and the chat were a real bright spot.


Here's my request:
Be a friend. We are not crazy.
Show you care. The little things mean a lot.
Don't offer advice. Unless you've been there.
Be patient. It can last a while.
Support our partners. They carry a double burden.

So while there's still a stigma, still misunderstanding out there, I have to speak up. Not everyone has found their voice yet, so I'm speaking up for them.

• If you want to know more, visit the Most Excellent website Depression.org
• To read more of my posts on this subject go here

Its Not the End of the World

So. It appears that we are all still here and the world did not end... Not that I ever thought for a second that it would.

Of course when I heard on the news that some guy was claiming that Saturday was Doomsday, I paid it no mind.
See I've been hearing that the world's gonna end since I was six years old.
My folks were heavily into the whole Rapture/End Times gig when they were young Christian Hippies in the Seventies. They would send me outside to play while they gassed about it with their friends... but I would sneak back in, hide behind a chair and listen.

I was convinced that growing up was something that would never happen to me. Got a nasty shock when it actually did.

My mum sat me down to talk to me about the Birds and the Bees... I stuck my fingers in my ears and told myself I didn't need to know what to do with a Tampon because I would not be growing up.

Or there was the time I came home from school to find the house empty... the doors open, the kettle bubbling away filling the house with steam, just like in those freaky movies... I sat down on the floor and cried. I knew it, I said to myself. The Rapture has come and I've been left behind.
Actually our neighbour had an accident and my mum went to help her, and forgot to shut the doors and turn off the kettle. But how was I to know that?

{Anyone else remember those dreadful 70's "mark of the Beast" movies??}

All of this means that when I come across people who go around claiming the End is Nigh, I ignore them. Get annoyed with them, sure; wish they wouldn't make the rest of us look like goobers, yep.  But basically, apart from an inner cringe, I pay no attention to those loop-the-loops.

Sadly there were some who got sucked in by Mr Doomsday. Gave away their stuff and quit their jobs. Now they are lost and abandoned by the guy they believed in - and looking mighty silly too. Sad.

Now don't get me wrong... I am a huge Believer in Jesus. Totally love the guy; wouldn't have survived if I hadn't had His help to get through the rough patches.
I rely on Him, pray to Him, thank Him for all the Blessings He sends my way.

But I figure when He said, "No man knows the day or hour when I'll be returning..." He meant it.
No. Man. Knows.

And I'm happy with that.
I heard someone say once, Live every day like its your last, but plan as if you're gonna live to 100.

Heck, I've got more chance of getting run over by a bus than getting Raptured tomorrow (especially the way some bus drivers go about their business...)

Every day is precious. We don't know when our time is up.
Tragedies happen all the time without walking round expecting the world to end any day!?!

The challenge for me is to live every day like its my last - by making sure my loved ones know I love them, doing my best with what I have, making every day count.

But at the same time building for the future as if I'll be sticking around to see my great grandkids. Making wise decisions. Planning and preparing for my kids futures.

One day we were watching the 6 O'clock News and some Scientist came on and said, "In 150 million years such-and-such-Planet's orbit will send it crashing into Earth..." There was a graphic showing two planets colliding. Great.

My imaginative sensitive deep-thinking boy Dash was watching and he totally missed the bit about the millions of years. He heard only that the world is going to end.
And proceeded to have nightmares for the next week.

I nearly cried when he asked me, "Mummy will I not get to grow up and get married and have kids...?"
Grrrrrrr.

You can bet I reassured him that we will all be around for a long time. That I am looking forward to dancing at his wedding, being a granny to his babies, seeing him play soccer for the All Whites...
I don't want him to grow up with a sense that there is no future! That the world will die around us.
Makes. Me. Cross.

So whether its some Scientific prediction or a Doomsday Con Artist, let nobody take tomorrow away from my kids!

If planets collide, I don't want to know in advance.
If Jesus returns, He won't catch me watching the skies.

Not because I don't believe. But because I'll have my hands full preparing my kids for a very long, full, worthwhile, good life here on Planet Earth.
♥

......................

Thoughts, anyone??

Walk for Christchurch

We here in New Zealand are walking around with our minds and hearts elsewhere. No matter what we are doing, Christchurch is not far fom our thoughts.

Whenever we go to complain about the chores, the kids... we clap a hand over our mouths and say to ourselves, but I have nothing to complain about, compared to what's happening in Christchurch.

The rescuers keep working through the night, still hoping to find survivors in the rubble. We pray for them from a distance, but our hearts are right there with them.

We keep hoping against hope even though it's been hours since they last found anyone alive.

And in the back of our minds is the task facing the city when the dust has settled.

The people who have lost their homes, their livelihoods, their sense of safety. Not to mention their precious loved ones.

We sit here at a distance feeling frustrated and wishing there was something we could do, as well as praying.

Then my friend Gail came up with this idea, a Walk for Christchurch, just like our Walk for Haiti last year.
A 16km sponsored walk across the Auckland isthmus. I did it last year. Ouch.

And I have said I will do it this year too. How could I not? I'm terrified of course. I am so unfit. And last year I could barely walk for days afterwards. But I'm doing it.

I will get up off my butt and walk. And hope that you will join me - either by walking with us on the 2nd of April and/or by donating.

Would you also support us by sponsoring us?

CLICK HERE TO SPONSOR US

And or by putting this button on your blog?


 <center><a href="http://www.fundraiseonline.co.nz/GailBurgess4CHCH/"><img border="0" src="http://i788.photobucket.com/albums/yy162/donnasimone/buttons/WalkforChristchurchbutton140.jpg"/></a></center>

It links directly to the fundraising page where people can donate via credit or debit card. All money raised goes directly to the Red Cross to help the people of Christchurch. We would love your support.

Cos it's not for us. It's for them.
Thankyou. ♥


Photos from MSN Galleries