Stuff to Do

 Things have been challenging lately, and I am burned out. I spend a lot of time spaced out, but functional. My reasoning (and I'm not even suggesting that it's healthy, or even logical, but it's real for me) is that it's not happy, but happy can be taken away - and not sad is better than sad, so I maintain a neutral state for most of the day. It's a lot less effort I suppose - and when I'm already more tired than a toddler after a day at Disney, I'm looking for low effort.  But back to the 4yo tattooist... Sunday I was feeling pretty flat. It was a challenging week, with a lot of appointments, responsibilities, and hard emotional coregulation. So I was on the fence about going to church, until it was looking like there wouldn't be a lot of people to help with cleaning up and serving snacks after the service. Now I wasn't feeling guilty, or obligated. It was more like I could feel someone standing next to me, saying "SEE?? You are a valuable mem...

we yearn for home, but endlessly seek what is next     the next town, the next year, the next job, the next home. we long for peace and quiet, yet fill our lives with the noise of life we wish for rest, even as we add more things to our calendars. what if the yearning, seeking, longing, and wishing stopped for a moment? What if we just  stopped. Would we find that the home, the peace, the quiet, the rest we so desperately crave are in front of us after all, and we are the ones hiding it behind all the other things?  What if the secret walled garden is right there, waiting - and we can't find the doorway because we never allow ourselves to be still? I think I shall take some time to just still my body, quiet my mind, and steady my heart, and wait for the peace and rest to reveal itself to me. 

I went on holidays, and as it always seems to happen, I did a lot of thinking about my life.  At the beginning of December, I acknowledged that I was not in a good headspace. Yes, I'd gotten the ADHD sorted, and that was kind of under control (as long as I remember to take my meds, that is - be right back!)  Okay, I'm back. Obviously, or I wouldn't be typing. ANYHOW... I was not in a good headspace. Everything kind of snuck up on me, and it wasn't like a dramatic breakdown that was obvious. It was a subtle shift, a slow decrease in my emotional capacity to cope with ordinary life. I was irritable, weepy, with very little energy or enthusiasm for anything that I used to love doing. Everything was difficult, and I had reached the point of just not caring. That place, where I didn't even want to try anymore. I was doing most of what I needed to do, but on autopilot. I found myself more and more sitting in my car, having escaped for a few minutes, wishing I could just b...

I have four kiddos doing remote learning right now. It's not my favourite thing.  Each of them need individual supervision, and they cannot be in the same room at the same time. The older girls each get 90 minutes of my time. They're supposed to be doing 3 to 4 hours a day, according to their school. The younger two each get 60 minutes of my time, which is also less than they're "supposed" to be doing. That's 5 hours of supervision, leaving 1 hour a day for me to take phone calls, organise NDIS funding, send emails, attempt to do training for a potential job. If there are extras, like behaviour management, conflict resolution, canine enforcement (she will not stop grooming the chicken?!?), birthday preparations, lunchtime visit to McDonald's drive-through or "Mum come look at this Minecraft thing/Piggy cut scene/help me fix this slime which went wrong", well, I'm just going to have to forgo sleep.  Prior to diagnosis and treatment, during las...

Think about the following scenario:  You feel hungry, so you decide to make a sandwich.  You get the bread, the fillings, the condiments out.  You assemble the sandwich.  What is your next step?  If you have ADHD, you probably eat the sandwich. You also forget the bread, fillings, condiments, and knife even exist, because you only got them out to make the sandwich. Putting all that stuff away is a brand new task, completely separate. And cleaning isn't exciting, it's not fun. You were meeting a need (hunger), and putting away the stuff you used has nothing to do with hunger.  Here's another example, from my own experience -  I put my desk together, and it was rewarding. I have a beautiful desk, and I love it. Putting all of the things away that came off the old desk was not part of building the desk, and without a late afternoon medication boost, I would not have done that job, because it was tedious.  Part of the difficulty with that sort of thin...

How has ADHD impacted me as a mother? Prioritisation- Before I started medication, (or when it wears off) I could not prioritise anything. I literally could not look at my epic and delusional to-do lists and make a decision about things I could let go of or put off for another day. I could not prioritise household tasks. I would see all of it, get overwhelmed and not be able to start.  Procrastination- I have always been able to achieve incredible things under pressure. What I've learned is that I need adrenaline in order to help me focus, especially in tasks that are less enjoyable, or unpleasant. I would rather get up at 5am and race to clean the kitchen than go back to it after I've finally got the kids to bed. Yes, I hate getting up early, but I need that adrenaline burst to help me get started.  Caffeine- We've all seen the memes about motherhood and coffee, right? I had four children in five years. Of course I'm obsessed with coffee! When demands are low, a strong...

 I changed my Facebook profile picture for the month of October, to acknowledge ADHD Awareness. A profile picture doesn't get the conversation happening though, so I thought I would take it further. I'm in between university sessions, so I have some time.  Growing up, I was 'the space cadet'. I was chatty, I asked a billion questions, I was always busy reading. I explored the woods behind my house, engaged in music, theatre, band, dance. Rearranged my bedroom ALL THE TIME. Forgot assignments, or procrastinated like a champ. Lost things, misplaced things, couldn't keep my room clean to save my life. My grades were average, with the possible exception of music, which I loved. Struggled with binge eating, too. My emotions were all over the shop. As a young adult, I missed deadlines, was perpetually late, and my apartment was a hot mess. As a new parent, I honestly don't know how we all survived. Adding sleep deprivation to an already maxed out brain seems cruel som...

 Some houses have attics, some don't. A place for dust, mice, spiders, Christmas decorations. A place to keep all the things people don't know what else to do with, or things requiring decisions that people aren't ready to make. It's a place for the "some days" stuff of life.  For me, the attic was so much more. It was a passage to another world, very Narnia-esque. There were books to read, old clothes to try on, things that came from a different generation. There was an antique baby carriage, vinyl records, boxes of cards from people I didn't know, photo albums, suitcases, and all manner of things. The attic, to me, told the story of my family. It seemed like if I looked, I could find my entire family history in there, and figure out just who I was supposed to be.  I would sit in the summer, dripping with sweat, poring over books whose titles I can't remember, reading about everything and anything. I would sit in the cold, imagining myself to be Sara ...

 Yesterday was an extremely low-key day. I did end up doing a bit of assessment work, but I also organised and labelled my pantry.  *side note: if you're going to procrastinate, at least do something useful? Then I made dinner. Then? I made sure the food was put away, and put the kiddos to bed. And I went to bed too. Today? Uh, I pottered around. I got up, loaded and ran the dishwasher, put a load of laundry in, and then just kind of hung around. Took a kid to a play date, did a bit of research for my assessment, had a good chat with a friend, and not a lot else. Tomorrow? We'll see. I'm not making plans that I won't follow through on, and for all my talk about doing, I want to make sure I have capacity for doing. Tonight, that looks like finishing this glass of wine, putting the kids to bed, and putting away the pasta with sauce we had for dinner. The rest can wait until tomorrow, because choosing rest is an act of doing too.  Good night, Sarah

 I did an obscene amount of stuff.  I woke up early, and rather than go back to bed, I sat with my coffee and began the first day of my year long devotional effort. Then I listened to a couple of podcasts while dismantling the Christmas tree, boxing up the decorations, sweeping the floor, putting the furniture away. After a while, the family woke up, and I started cleaning in earnest, dusting everything, organising the Lego cubes and the DVD cubes.  It felt really good.  I've had "defrost freezer" on my list for so long I thought it would be permanent - but not today, my people. I went out to the camper trailer and grabbed the esky (I think Americans call it a cooler? I never really went camping much over there, so I'm not sure.), and with Lachlan's help, unplugged and emptied the freezer. Then it was time to get SERIOUS. Over the sink we have a shelf, and it's been a clutter catcher since we put it there. It's been bugging me, so I moved some things there...

The truth is, nobody really knows what happens next.  At the stroke of midnight,  people will celebrate the close of a year that has felt absolutely interminable. We all hope things get better, we talk about how we are hopeful - but what are we going to DO to make it better? I'm a storyteller. In the words that I write, in the food I prepare, in singing, in decorating my home, in my garden. Until now, much of my storytelling has been reflective, introspective. In this new year, I want to tell stories that bring us together. I'm stepping out of my own head, and writing words that tell the story of courageously walking towards that big fat question mark.  What happens next? Don't know, and it doesn't matter. I'm stepping out to meet it no matter what it is. I'm not hiding behind pretty words for another day of my life.  What would my life be like if I finished my certificate and got a job at a school? I don't know, but I'm doing it anyway. What would it fe...

 When you are separated by oceans and years, grief is bizarre.  When you pray for a loved one's healing, yet the healing does not come in this life, it is even more bizarre. You are devastated that they no longer walk this earth, but overjoyed at their release from pain and suffering.  I haven't seen my stepmom (Mom, since I've never called her my stepmom - much to the confusion of anyone who has heard me talk about her) in 13 years. Not because of a falling out or anything traumatic - just...life I guess. We've had a full-on 13 years with four children, special needs, moving houses, changing schools, sort of FIFO-ing, and all the rest. Then we planned to go visit, but Covid-19.  Her death isn't necessarily a shock, because she was ill. But not being able to say goodbye has kicked me in the heart, and I feel as though it might actually stop beating, if I give in to the emotion lingering behind my caffeine-infused facade. Of course it's okay to grieve, but the th...

 But not the good kind, unfortunately.  This morning I am trying to set out a weekly menu, write out a shopping list, and synchronise calendars, because we have a lot of people, with a lot of stuff, and my working memory is rubbish. Caffeine and weirdness will only carry me so far, so I have to do this stuff.  My desk is in the corner of the main room of our house. It's a convenient spot, next to the bookshelf, with plenty of room on the wall above it for inspirational bits and bobs.  Unfortunately, I seem to have communicated the message that if I am visible, I am available for ANYTHING, EVERYTHING, AT ANY TIME.  I have headphones in, and still - they try to ask me questions. I have visible evidence of work happening, and still they ask me questions like;  -how do I spray cooking spray on this pan? -is this mixed? Clearly, the boundary skirmishes rage on, but that is fine, and I shall tell you why. For years, I have heard the message from ALL of the people...

 In my world, we take a step forward, two steps back, tripping over our own feet, sometimes with a great deal of unfortunate language. I take the hand of my Savior, who drags me to my feet, and start again. We don't seem to ever really get anywhere, despite assurances that we're doing all the things we can do - but somehow we almost make it look like it's working.  Sometimes the best thing we can do for someone who is tripping over their own feet is to sit with them, acknowledge that tripping over yourself just stinks, and wait. Not tell them how you would avoid tripping over your own feet, or tell them they should stop tripping over their own feet. Or how everyone else has clumsier feet, or no feet at all, and they manage to not only not trip on their feet, but win the world championship of ballroom dancing.  I never learned how to NOT be anxious. I'm learning how to live with it now, as an adult, but it's not something I can just shut off. It's part of my dail...

I wasn't well yesterday. Like, "I spent most of the day in bed, with shingles pain in my scalp" unwell. Unfortunately, this did not seem to be evident to my children, who didn't hesitate to come in and ask me for things, despite their father being RIGHT NEXT TO ME. I digress... Two things became crystal clear: 1. Either I don't have boundaries, or 2. They are invisible. I asked one of our children "Last Saturday when Dad was laid up with a migraine, did you ask him for anything?" Her response: "No." "And why is that?" "Because he was sick." People, my eyebrows may have touched the back of my head. Paddocks need boundaries, and so do I - but where to start? In the past, when I've embarked on a boundary mission, it's been more about giving the children boundaries, and it's exhausting. It relies on ME to build, reinforce, patrol, and hold the boundary, four times over. Initially it succeeds, but let...

As my 45th birthday approached, I wasn't feeling very good about it. I'm overweight, not in the most fantastic health, I've only just worked out what I want to be when I grow up, I feel like a mediocre domestic, and I'm happy, most of the time. I love Jesus, I love my family. I try to love the people around me. The thing that was kind of freaking me out was that 45 is kind of close to *looks around furtively*  50.  It's just a number, I know. It's also a whopping five years away. Jesus could come back before then.  The thing about that particular number though, is that when I was 25, (and I don't really remember because hello, 25 years, plus four children equals poor memory), I thought I'd be settled, or have stuff figured out. I thought I'd be  - I don't know, mature? Self-confident? Sigh.  I'm only just starting on the road to confident, and I'm definitely NOT mature. I have a few things figured out, but many more that ...

The truth is, it's hard. It's easy to say "You should bring your children to church."  - when someone is looking from a vantage point where that seems simple and straightforward. I want my children and my husband to share my faith, to want to worship - but I am finding that the sheer physical effort involved in getting my children to church, without emotional blackmail, is sometimes too great. What is the takeaway from church when I've spent the morning screaming and ranting at my loved ones to "GET DRESSED NOW AND GET IN THE CAR!!!" I'm not spending the next hour in worship - I'm feeling guilty, hypocritical, and just ugly. When church becomes more about making sure we have our church faces on, it's not about worship, it's about appearance.  I love Jesus, I know I'm not always good at living out my faith, and I struggle with anxiety, depression, trusting God with my emotions - but I keep trying. I want to live out my faith, fo...

Things in my world are settling into a kind of pattern, even if it IS like a pattern drawn by a toddler holding a lipstick.  I've got many plates spinning, which is not news to anyone who knows me. Not unmanageable, but not really much room for navel-gazing either. This is not necessarily a bad thing, mind you. In fact, I'm about to be WAY TOO BUSY for any navel-gazing: -New Bible study/accountability group online -Existing Bible study -Volunteer work -Practical placement for my course -Studying -Therapy coordination -Translation project -Appointment coordinator for four children and myself -Project managing different household things -Working on health and fitness -Peer mentoring -Project "Get my kids to sleep in their own beds and not wake me up at night".  See? Many plates.  I know that as long as keep looking upward, and not sideways, this will all work out as it is meant to.  I know that. But does anyone else get tired ju...

I was functional, but only just. Surviving each week, but not thriving or growing. Growing distant, maybe. In this weird zone of not happy but not unhappy either. Then? Things broke, and God showed me just how strong he is. The last two months have been hard. Full of dying to self, full of love, full of redemption and crazy faith. Full of healing, restoration, and truth. In order for the beginning of the new, we had to end the old, and trust me, it was one of those cliff-hanging chapters that have you thinking "How can THAT come out okay???" And yet, here I am. Tender, bruised, wary, but whole. Stepping into a completely new life, not knowing what comes next. For my part, I'm okay with that, and by "okay" I mean I trust that God has a plan, and that's enough for me. I haven't known how to write about this because it's not entirely my own story. It also belongs to others, and I want to respect their privacy. This is my blog though, and the story...

It is difficult to put into words, this subtle yet monumental shift. Everything which seemed to be so important, yet so hard - suddenly it seems achievable. I am not certain what was in the way, or what has changed. Mountain of paperwork on my desk, taunting me for months now? Consider it flattened. Phone calls needing to be made? Done. Appointments needing to be scheduled? On the books. Exercise? Even I can manage ten minutes a day (it's a start) Drinking water? One sip at a time. Study? Can't wait. Cleaning my house? Only as much as I can handle in a half-hour. Doing something I love? Surely I can pull out a music book and practice singing, create something, or read for ten minutes (again, baby steps!) Even today, with one child home (asthma-related respiratory crud), and kids doing the opposite of getting ready for school, and a dog who can push the door open yet not closed (she too originated in Narnia I suspect, but can a dog be taught to close a door??...