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A life to cherish - 4/21/2005 5:38:22 AM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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Hi everybody. How are you doing?
Well, this is round two of my blog. I'll probably intersperse some of the old blog in with the new as there are people who may not have known me back from the old Crosswalk site. It's been interesting reading back over my last blog and seeing what things have been happening throughout the year. Hopefully you'll be able to get to know me a little better through my blog.
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 4/21/2005 11:56:53 AM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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Well, it was just over a year ago that I started my last blog in the old Crosswalk. I'm going to incorporate some of the old posts with the new things, so that you get a bit of a background about me.
This is part of my first blog entry.
Where do I start? Well, I'm not married. I've never dated. I don't have any kids, and couldn't have any of my own even if I wanted to. That's ok though. Life presented itself with a situation that said, you could either keep your organs and maybe get pregnant at some stage and risk cancer, or you could give up the kids options and have a lessened risk of cancer. You don't have to be a genius to figure which option I took. If by some miracle I end up married, there's always the adoption route if God wants me to be a mother. I've always wondered what I'd be like as a mum. So many people have told me that I'm a natural with kids. I used to work in childcare, and some of the kids used to think they were mine, including one little boy I used to look after one morning a week. The look on his mother's face when I told him his mother was there to pick him up. He looked between the two of us, then crawled over to me as quick as he could. He was only a baby of about ten months. A while after that, he began to call me mum. I was honoured, but boy, did that cause problems. All the parents used to think he was mine too.
I guess I should tell you a little bit about my family. I have two older brothers, 8 and 9 years older than me. (I've just turned 36). Both of them are married with kids. My oldest brother, Steve, has a son and daughter and is a grandfather. Both he and his kids started their families young. Mike, my youngest brother, has a son and daughter also. I'm the only grandchild that isn't married. I never met any of my grandparents. My mother's parents died before I was born and my dad's parents died in England. We never got to meet them. I've never been close to my family, much to my dismay.
I was born in a place called Gisborne, in New Zealand. I moved to Western Australia in December of 1989. That was a real God happening. I'd been living with a family in Gisborne, and the marriage broke up. The mother told me that they had family here in Perth and asked me whether I'd like to move here with them. Normally I have to really think about such a serious decision, but without even thinking, I automatically answered yes. A year later, we were here. Just over a week later, I started coming to church and within a few months, I'd given my life to Jesus. I doubt I would have done that if I were still living in NZ. I'll leave my testimony for another time though.
Anyway, my Christian family is extremely important to me. The Lord has brought spiritual parents into my life. They could never have kids of their own, and the Lord knew I needed them. To John and Joan, I'm their daughter. John and I are so alike that people comment that we could really be father and daughter (apart from the fact that I don't look like them). We have the same sense of humour, are both analytical and have so many other similarities. Joan and I are alike in a lot of ways too. We both relate to not being able to have kids of our own and a whole lot of other things. It's amazing when I think of how God has brought us together, and knit us together as a family. God knew we needed each other.
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 4/21/2005 12:01:42 PM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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I thought I'd share some of my testimony. Again, it's mostly a post from last year, but the vast majority of it hasn't changed any. I'll update things as I get time.
Somebody asked me to share my testimony, so here we go. It's kind of sad, but not meant to be used to get sympathy. It just helps me to be able to minister to others who've been through similar situations.
As I've already told you, I was born in NZ and have two older, married brothers. Both my parents were abusive alcoholics, especially my mother. I went to Sunday school for a little while when I was young, and I really thought that I was a Christian because of it. After a few years, I walked away from church, but never gave up believing in God.
I was intelligent, topping my year at school. I got a lot of pressure from my parents and from peers and I didn't handle it well. In fact, I just blocked everything, and I have very little memory of when I was younger. I just know of some things that were told to me by others.
I started being abused by my parents when I was very young, but it really kicked up a notch when I was about 10 or 11. My mother would come home from the pub where my dad worked, and if they'd had a fight, I was the one who wore the brunt of her anger and frustration. I never knew what to expect when she came through the door. It was a really lonely time, as my mother rarely let my friends come over, and I never really felt comfortable inviting friends over because of the volitile nature of my parents. I didn't know at the time, but I had already started suffering from clinical depression. Nobody noticed it, even when I first tried to suicide at school aged 11. My teacher just thought it was attention seeking, yet did nothing about it. I wasn't diagnosed with depression until I was 23.
Being from NZ, and being part Maori (the indigenous people from NZ), I was raised in a lot of the ways in the Maori culture. There's a lot of ancestor worship, and going into the marae (the meeting house), is said to be going inside your ancestor. If you ever get to look at the picture of one, there is a long panel down the middle to represent the backbone. The beams coming down the sides are to represent the ribs. I have to admit, the Maori culture used to freak me out, especially when I was little and I had to go and sleep in the marae after a funeral. I'd be the only one in there, and there's no electricity. Scary stuff. The Maori people are very much into the spiritual realm. I was no different. I was spiritually sensitive, still am, but in a different way now.
During my teen years, my cousin introduced me to new age and the occult. I was so hungry for spiritual things and I thought that this would fill a void for me. I've had some really scary things happen to do with those things, but I was really deceived. I was teaching my friends how to get involved etc. Not something that I'm proud of. At one stage though, I really began to feel unsettled about it, thinking that God wasn't into what I was doing, (which He wasn't). Somebody told me, "Who do you think started it?" With that, I dived in deeper.
I always told myself that I would never be like my mother, being alcoholic, and abusing others. I began drinking in my teens, and ended up heading towards becoming an alcoholic. In my late teens, probably not being helped by my drinking, depression was really settling in.
So, it was the late 80's, and there I was, drinking heavily, into the occult, broken from being abused, into false religion and majorly clinically depressed. At the time I was living with a family, and the parent's marriage broke up. They decided to move to Australia to be with family and invited me along. It had to be God, because without even thinking, I said yes. Before I left NZ though, I stopped by a tarot card reader, and only one thing she said, ever came true. She told me that I would start going back to church, and that I would love it.
God was already working on me though. I used to smoke cigarettes, but I don't anymore. I was finding that I was getting sick whenever I drank. It took a while for me to figure out what was going on, but God finally got my attention. I now can stop at one or two if I'm at special occasions, whereas before I couldn't.
Australia was a whole new ball game. About a week after arriving here, I started going to church, and I did love it. I was still into the occult, but not for long. I became a Christian just a few months after arriving in Perth, and the Lord completely took away every desire to be involved in it in an instant. I've never been near it again. Now I know how to help people get out of the occult, because of my own experiences.
About a month after I arrived in Perth, I heard a missionary from Nepal speaking at the church I was going to. I mentioned above that I felt God asking me to be a missionary. Without question, I said yes. A few years later, the Lord began showing me where He wanted me to go. September 2002, I got to take my first missions trip to Namibia. It was such a dream come true for me. I was asking the Lord when that time would come, and as the rest of the team sat in the van coming in from the airport at what would have been 3am our time, I was flying high on adrenaline because I was finally getting to do what I felt God had asked me to do, in one of the places I feel called to. I think this is just the beginning for me in terms of missions, but it's just a matter of waiting on God's timing for future trips.
Years ago now, I used to get really down a lot and I'd call friends to pray for me. (I now live with them). They came to realise that the reason I was getting so down was because I was so spiritually sensitive. They have been pastors and have been teaching me spiritual warfare. I now teach them about how to get people out of the occult and new age. We minister together at times, to broken people who've been through abuse, and into occultic practices.
The Lord has been healing me and bringing me to a place where I can trust Him more. He's changing me in so many ways. When I went back to NZ in 93, my best friend couldn't get over how different I am from when I lived there. I know that I will never go back as I feel that the Lord has told me that he doesn't want me to. I just want to be where God wants me to be, doing what He wants me to be doing.
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 4/21/2005 12:54:14 PM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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Over the years, I've done a lot of study. Against my parent's wishes, I left school at 16 to start working in a government bookshop. I really enjoyed it. I got a rude shock, however, when after 3 months, I got fired. I thought I'd something absolutely terrible! It wasn't until quite some time later that I found out that my ex-boss had quite a reputation of firing staff after they'd been there for 3 months. I had no idea at the time.
Where I lived, it was the second highest unemployment rate in the country. Needless to say, getting another job was not the easiest thing to do. In the end, I decided to go back and study via correspondence to get the grades that I didn't get before finishing school. I'd been a really good student as a youngster. They'd even put me ahead a year as I found what I'd been doing too easy. I think when I turned 14, things really came unstuck. Our house caught fire, (we had a 2 storey house). There was an electrical fault in the electric blanket on my parent's bed. My mother had got up to go to the bathroom in the early hours of the morning. She thought things looked pretty hazy, but thought it was just the fact that she was still nine tenths asleep. When she got back to bed, her side of the bed was on fire, and my dad being a heavy sleeper, was still fast asleep. Thankfully my youngest brother heard my mother trying to wake him, and managed to help her. They were busy trying to throw the mattress out of the bedroom window onto the ground. My brother ran next door to the adjoining house to warn them. Nobody came to wake me, but I think that was the providence of God that I got out.
Just a short time after the fire, my parents, brother and I all had to sleep downstairs in the lounge room as the upstairs area got repaired. The top floor had just about burned it's way through and nearly collapsed to the ground floor. Thankfully, that didn't happen. Anyway, not long after the fire, I woke up one morning, just about screaming. I didn't know it at the time, but I had such a bad kidney infection that I just about landed myself on dialysis. For weeks, I wouldn't eat, as I wasn't hungry. I missed a lot of school, and I found myself really struggling when I finally did get back to school. It was also around that time, when I really fell in with the wrong crowd at school. It was not the easiest time, looking back on things.
Anyway, as I was saying, I eventually went back to study via correspondence. My favourite subject was English. When I was 13, my English teacher entered one of my written pieces into a writing competition without me knowing it. I wasn't impressed when I found out which one, as I really didn't like it. It seems others didn't agree with me, however. It won third prize in the junior prose. I found that my English teachers at the correspondence school liked my writing too. Sometimes I'd get sent publications from the correspondence school. The first time, I really didn't understand why I was being sent one, as it wasn't normal practice. It seems my teachers liked my work so much that they had it published. They used to ask for more of my work for publication. I don't see myself as a good writer. Especially not now. I'm way out of practice. It was good experience though. I managed to get good grades when I went back to study via correspondence. I was thinking that with my grades, it would make it easier for me to get a job in New Zealand. That didn't prove to be true for me.
After moving to Australia, I started doing casual work, as that was all I could get. I wanted to be able to do something a lot better, so I decided that I needed to go back to school. The qualifications that I'd got in New Zealand weren't recognised in Australia. In fact, it was seen as me being 2 years behind what it would have been in New Zealand. So in 2 years, I did from grade 8-12. Grades 8-11 in the first year, and grade 12 in the second year.
The year later, I started working towards a childcare degree, as I really felt that that was what God wanted me to do. I struggled in some areas, particularly during the practical assessments on the job. They gave us so much paperwork to do, that I was getting a maximum of 2 hours of sleep a night whenever I was on prac. In the industry, you actually don't have to do that much paperwork. It frustrated me no end, as when friends asked for help, I could give them ideas without any problems. When it came time to do my own work, it was like I got a block, and didn't know what to do. That was why I was getting so little sleep. Trying to work out programmes and everything for the kids in my care. I almost finished my degree, and a month before I finished it and qualified, I realised that that was something that God really actually didn't want me doing. I found it so hard to walk away from after all the work I'd put into it, but at the same time, I was so burned out, that in a way, it was a real relief. For a while, I continued to pick up casual work in childcare centres as unqualified staff. After a while, I finally got the hint that God didn't want me doing that either.
A couple of years later, I decided to embark on another degree, surer this time that this was what God wanted me to do. The work was so much harder than the childcare degree, and yet, I was managing to get good grades. I was studying to become a library technician. (Believe it or not, my favourite book as a kid was a dictionary. I know, I'm a total geek!  ) By the end of the first term, I really started to struggle. Things that I had found easy, suddenly began to elude me. I couldn't understand it. I was feeling totally overwhelmed, and not understanding why. By that time, I had not long started living with John and Joan. They knew that something wasn't right. My moods had totally altered. I was so stressed out, that I was eating one meal a week, and still gaining huge amounts of weight. My doctor had just told me that I needed to go onto the contraceptive pill and I'd be ok. Wow, I'm so glad that I didn't take that advice.
John and Joan had little faith in the doctor that I had at that time, and pleaded with me to see one of the doctors who attended our church. Boy, did the rollercoaster start then!
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 4/21/2005 1:25:51 PM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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I've suffered from depression for as long as I can remember. I heard from a psychologist, that I was clinically depressed even as a young child. I knew by the end of the first term that something was terribly wrong. I agreed to see one of the doctors from church. As I said, from there, the rollercoaster really took off. I went to see the doctor about getting some help with the depression that I was feeling. I got more than I bargained for.
The first time the doctor saw me, she told me that I would need to go for tests. I've always had a massive weight problem, even as a child. To me, I was just fat. Still am. Anyway, I knew something wrong when I was sent for an ultrasound (sonogram), and the technician just about had a coronary on the spot. For starters, she couldn't find my kidneys. I was immediately sent back to the doctor for further referrals for more tests the next morning. I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams what was about to happen. I was diagnosed with PCOS, otherwise known as poly cystic ovarian syndrome. Why couldn't the technician find my kidneys? They were there, but I had 2 MASSIVE cysts that were obstructing and moving my other organs as they couldn't fit in the right spaces. I had one cyst that was 30x32 cms and another one that was 30x28x17 cms. For those who still work in feet and inches, they were each over 1'x1'. I also had others growing in there as well. The depression in itself was enough for the doctor to tell me to stop studying and working on medical grounds. The PCOS sealed it for me. I was put into hospital relatively quickly after that, and they removed over 25kgs or 50lbs of cysts. Pathology results came back showing that they were borderline cancerous, and if they had been left any longer, I would have been in huge trouble. I was told that I would have to come back to oncology for 10 years instead of the usual 5 for checkups, as what they found was particularly nasty, and could grow back absolutely anywhere. Four months later, I needed another sonogram for something completely different, but for some reason, the technician checked somewhere that she wasn't meant to. She found more cysts growing. Later that year, I was given a hysterectomy, as if I didn't have one, cysts would continue to just keep growing. I haven't worked or studied since that time, as I don't have the mental concentration or physical ability to be able to cope with it. For now, I am on a disability pension. I do keep busy doing things, despite being on a pension, but I'll leave that for another post.
I'll just quickly talk about the present, before I fill in some more background stuff. At the moment, I'm having a time of having to see oncology. I went for my annual checkup about a month ago, and for some reason, my specialised blood test results weren't there. I found out from my doctor what my levels were. He told me that I had nothing to worry about, but I've learned from oncology where the danger signs are for me. I went back to the oncology clinic earlier this week, as it showed that my levels were up. I spoke to a junior doctor, so I'm waiting to hear back from the doctor once she's talked to the consultants. It may mean more blood work and imaging. (CT scans and the like), as well as maybe some other things, depending on the results of things. Some of the symptoms I'm experiencing, could be explained by the gastric banding I had back in October to try and help me lose some more weight. However, she couldn't explain my elevated levels. She couldn't rule out cancer. My levels are 2 below my danger level and 3 below where they were when I had that first surgery. Hopefully it will be nothing to worry about, but I'll let you know when I found out anything.
I could keep going, but I think that's probably enough for now. I'll talk to you again later.
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 4/26/2005 12:28:06 PM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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Ok, let's see. Where to go to next?
The oncology appointment. Some of you might know some of this, as I've posted it in my thread, but just so I can remember it at a later date, I'll write it down. I got a call on Friday morning. Well, the doctor talked to her boss, and it seems that he seems to think that the elevated levels could be being caused by the gastric banding that I had done in October of last year. That, or something else. He didn't say what the something else could be. I have to get another blood test done in 3 months, instead of waiting the 12 months that I was originally going to be doing. Hopefully that will be ok.
It's now the early hours of Wednesday morning for me, the 27th of April. I have an appointment to see the surgeon this afternoon, so I'm going to ask him if he has any ideas as to why the surgery could have affected the results. Hopefully I'll get some answers, as the last few visits, I've felt as though I haven't been listened to. When you have a possible cancer scare, it sure makes you want answers if you can get them.
Over the weekend, I wasn't well. I think that too, has a lot to do with the surgery I had in October. I was told that gastric banding, (not gastric bypass), would be really helpful for me in getting my weight down. Believe me, I have a lot of it to lose. I've put on a little weight due to stress eating and just hitting a plateau, so I've lost something like about 60lbs now. My weight just yoyo's and won't go down any further. Sometimes I really wonder if I did the right thing in having the surgery. I actually lost a lot more of my weight prior to surgery, than after it. Like about 50lbs. With talk of the surgery possibly causing my levels to go up, I really do wonder if I made the right decision. There are so many things that my stomach can't handle anymore. Even the other morning, the smell of toast made me sick. My body is so intensely over sensitive right now, that the slightest thing sets it off.
It's been a rough little while lately. On Monday, I found out that the friend/doctor who had me diagnosed is about to leave this earth. She has suffered from cancer for a long time, and now it has ravaged her body. Her family are all doctors, and none of them expected her to decline as quickly as she has. They have set up a palliative care facility at their home so that she can die there. All of her family are flying back to spend what little time she has left. She is no longer eating or drinking, so it's just a matter of time. She has so many of the symptoms my mother had before she died. (Not that my mother died of cancer).
Making today harder, it would actually have been my mother's 71st birthday today. I didn't really get on with her, even though I wanted to. Both my parents had problems with alcohol, and my mother would become very abusive. I often didn't know what kind of a mood she would be in when she got home. My dad worked in a bar, and she would go there after work to unwind. You never knew what time she would be home. One morning, when I was about 6-7 years old, my older brother came home at 3.30am, and wondered what I was still doing up. I was waiting for my parents, of course. I'd been left home alone, as I was a latchkey kid.
I didn't get on with my family, but I desperately wanted to. I so wanted a family that would love me, protect me, be normal, and that I could be close to. I got the complete opposite. My brothers are close in age, so they bonded really well. My parents had more experience with boys, and so they related much better to them. They didn't know how to deal with a girl. I've never been thin, and my family constantly taunted me about my weight. I remember my mother telling me once that she wished that she had a daughter that she could take shopping and buy clothes for, instead of somebody who didn't fit into anything and only wore black. Not that I was a goth or anything, but it was just something that I felt comfortable in.
(This is getting long, so I'll continue in the next post).
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 4/26/2005 1:06:48 PM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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Do I hate my mother? No. I hated what she often did to me, and the unpredictability that it brought growing up. She was my mother, and whilst I didn't agree with her behaviour etc a lot of the time, I still loved her. I couldn't go out, or even have friends over 99% of the time, even if it were to work on school assignments. I don't know if she were afraid that somebody would find something out or something, but she never felt comfortable. If I had a friend or two over for dinner for my birthday, she had to be there. She was the complete control freak. My friends hated coming over. I asked her one day if she'd ever been abused growing up. She said no, but then I doubt she would have actually admitted it anyway.
Anyway, this is not a post to berate her. Afterall, she was my mother. I guess she did what she felt she could at the time. I try to think of positive things about her, and I can't remember any. That's so sad. I don't know whether my mind has blocked them out, in favour of the negative, or whether there actually just wasn't any positive times. Anger and alcohol were always influencing her in some way or other.
This is going to sound morbid, and I really don't mean it to be. Tonight I was trying to remember what she looked like. I don't know why, but I can only think of the picture my dad sent me after she passed away. I never understood why he sent it, not even to this day. It was a picture of my mum, all blown up from where the congestive heart failure had taken over, in an open casket at her funeral service in their garage. I try to think of other images of her, but that one just keeps coming to mind. I had some prayer over it tonight as I certainly don't want to remember her that way. I'm going to have to get some other pictures of her in my mind somehow. She passed on nearly 7 years ago now. Just six weeks short of what would have been my parent's 40th wedding anniversary.
A week after my parents met, my dad proposed. She said no because he was drunk. A week later, he proposed again, and again, she said no because he was drunk. The third week, he asked her again, and this time she accepted. Less than 3 months after meeting, they married in a registry office, and stayed married. There were times when I really didn't think that their marriage would last, but somehow it did. Despite how much they fought, they obviously loved one another. My mother was raised as a Catholic, so the idea of divorce would have been out of the question. She was very hurt by the church when I was very young. Many people talking about her behind her back. She left the church when I was 4, taking my brothers and I with her. I had been praying so hard for her salvation. When I got word that she was not expected to make it through the night, I was devastated. My sister in law lead her to the Lord just before she died, so I know that I will see her again in heaven some day. The last time I talked to her, just days before her death, she sounded so much better, and I thought that God was answering my prayers for her healing. I guess His ideas of healing and mine were completely different. At least now, she is no longer sick and in pain. That's a good thing.
Despite all of the hard things, I still miss my mum. I miss that we didn't get a chance to really bond. I missed out on her seeing me as something to be proud of. You see, my mother never really knew me. Obviously, she knew of my existence, but she never actually knew me. Those here at CW and my friends etc, know me far better than my mother ever did. I'm sad that I never got the pleasure of seeing her proud of me. She had very high standards. When I topped my years the first years of school, it wasn't good enough. I should have done better. She told me that she wished that I were more like my brothers, who were into sports etc, but would never allow me the opportunity to get involved. I wonder whether my mother ever thought anything postive of me. My brothers both had government jobs. As a kid, I wanted to work in retail because I loved the people contact. That was like my mother's worst nightmare. I don't know what I could have done to make her proud of me.
I've had counselling over the years. I still don't understand a lot of things, and maybe I never will. I've forgiven her for a lot of things over the years. I continue to do that. It's a long, slow process, but I will get there.
Sorry that this has turned out to be such a negative set of posts. I had some other things that I wanted to share that was a lot more positive, but I can't remember what they were right now. I'll give it some more thought, and share it next time.
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 4/26/2005 1:33:42 PM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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I really wanted to end this session with a positive. I just wanted to say thankyou to my many wonderful friends around here at Crosswalk. You have made me feel so welcome and blessed. I'm so glad to have met you all. Thankyou for being such an important part of my life. You've got no idea how excited I get at the thought of spending time with you all. You're all family to me, and family is so important in my books. You are all a real treasure and a real blessing. Thankyou Lord for my friends.
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 4/27/2005 7:24:42 AM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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Hi everybody. Just letting you know how this afternoon went with the surgeon.
I ended up with a student doctor who asked a pile of questions and did a bit of an examination of my stomach and abdomen. I have felt a lump near my left rib for a few months. It has been rather painful. I tried talking to the surgeon about it the last few times, but the surgeon had done nothing. The student doctor confirmed that I did have a lump. Yay, I'm not nuts! Initially the student doctor said something about my spleen. I wasn't impressed. He said he'd make sure that the surgeon took a look at it. He even had to ask me where the port is. (That's where the fluid gets put into the band).
The surgeon came in and I threw questions at him. Oh boy! Did he get defensive when I told him that oncology told me that they thought that my elevated levels were as a result of the gastric banding. He was going on about how he's never had that happen before and all sorts of things. He had no idea why the oncologists would think that. He wants me to give him the name of the oncologist in charge of my case and he'll personally have words with him. Apparently, he knows them all, as they consult regularly about difficult cases, as they are specialists in their own fields. He's one fired up doctor! He said that he'd never operate on somebody with an elevated level of the test I had.
The surgeon examined me, and found that I didn't have a hernia, which I think he was worried about when I said I had a lump. He did say that I had adhesions, where scar tissue is stretching. He also says that I have gastritis. I have medications that I'm going to have to take to deal with it. At least I know that I have something wrong that has a name to it.
He says that I have to further change my diet. He wants me to have lost at least 13lbs before the next time that I see him. I'm wondering how on earth I'm meant to do that. I guess I'm going to have to increase my exercise more and somehow eat less. Hopefully the adjustment that I had today will help me to not eat as much. I have to further limit my calorie intake. If the adjustment works, then that will definitely help in that department.
It was so funny. The surgeon did the adjustment. (For those who don't know what that is, it's where saline is injected into my gastric band so that I can't eat as much). He left the student doctor to put the bandaid on the wound site. It was so funny when he asked where the site was.
I still don't have all the answers, but I know more than when I went in. This time, I feel more as though I was heard. I still have some things I'd like answered, but I feel as though I know more than I did the last few times that I've been to him.
Tomorrow night, my time, I start a foundations course at church. It's not like a class for new Christians or whatever. It's actually more a course on inner healing, to help when praying for/counselling somebody. It's eight weeks long. It will certainly help me in gaining skills that I can use.
Anyway, I need to get offline for now. I'll talk to you all again later.
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 5/5/2005 5:46:07 AM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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Wow, it's been a while since I last posted. I had some things that I wanted to blog about, but I can't remember what they were now. Maybe they'll come back. I hope so.
A week ago, I started doing a course at church called Foundations. It's about inner healing. I don't know whether it was stress due to just coming straight from the doctor's to the course, but I really had problems concentrating. What I remember of it was good, however, I don't think that this is the right time for me to do the course. I had planned on going back again tonight, but don't feel that that is such a good idea. I might take it later on in the year.
Last week, I talked to my doctor about changing meds (antidepressants), as I've found that one of the meds has stopped being useful. It tends to make me feel a lot more tired, and usually at all the wrong times. There are some other side effects which I haven't found pleasant from them either, so I'm going back onto a med that I've been on before. I found it to be a lot more helpful, with the only big side effect being a draw back is increased appetite and weight gain. I'm going to have to be extremely careful with that. I'm starting that tonight, so hopefully, things will improve quickly. I've found the last few days have been increasingly difficult as I've come off the previous med in order to come onto this one. I never fare very well when changing over meds, and believe me, I've had plenty of experience in this department, but this time has been particularly harrowing. Hopefully once this new med kicks in, it will make life a lot easier for me. I've found that I've had to have extra calmatives to keep me sane, especially yesterday. I become a lot more "driven" in situations like that, which isn't helpful.
I'll continue this soon. Dinner is ready.
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 5/5/2005 12:30:10 PM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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Driveness is something that I've had to deal with for a lot of my life. I'll take one area of my life to illustrate my point.
Anybody who knows me, knows that I really struggle with my weight. I've been really overweight for a lot of my life, and I really wouldn't know what it feels like to be thin. I've had several doctors talk to me about diets of differing kinds and other things to try and help me lose my weight. In October of last year, I even underwent gastric banding, or lap banding. I actually lost more weight prior to the surgery than I have past. Oh well, not much we can do about that.
Driveness in this area? To spend more time on my exercise bike. To eat less, or eat nothing at all. Hmm, better finish this off later. I'm falling asleep at the computer!!
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 5/5/2005 8:24:43 PM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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Ok, time to continue on.
Driveness with my weight. Man, how much information do you want? I often feel driven to spend more time on my exercise bike, to eat less or not eat at all. To do certain amounts of time on my bike at at least a certain speed in an attempt to burn more calories. With the change over in meds, it just intensified it 10 times. The other day, I'd done an hour and just over 25 minutes on the bike. Was that enough for me? No. As far as I was concerned, I was going to review it after another hour and a quarter on the bike. Stupid, stupid stuff.
Since my surgery last year, I've had months of being plateaued in the weight department. There has been a gap of about 10lbs that I go between and can never get below. When I saw the surgeon last week, he was telling me that by the next time he saw me, I should be below a certain weight. It's lower than my lowest plateau weight. Has it freaked me out? You betcha! He told me that I should be on 800 calories a day. Throw that into the mix, and you have one stressed out Trish. I already struggle with what I can eat. My body won't tolerate certain foods anymore due to the surgery, and what can be ok one day, might not be the next, thanks to gastritis. Fun, fun, fun. Now I'm having to cut things back to 800 calories a day. I still haven't managed to do that yet, but I have significantly cut back on what I do eat. It's getting there. I'll need to cut back down some more, but I'm not going to try and do it all in one go. Too much change at once. What worries me, is the side effects I have with my new med, of having it increase my appetite and put weight on me. Not good timing, I admit, but there's not much I can do about the whole thing.
One of the things that really took hold of me in the past little while, particularly during the change over in meds, was just hopelessness. Feeling as though I'd never lose this weight. Feeling like even if I stopped eating, and exercised all the time, I still wouldn't lose it. Wondering what else I could do to lose the weight. That's what I mean by driven. Push myself to an absolute limit, to every extreme, and still not have any good results from it. It's just crazy. There are times when John and Joan just about have to pull me off the bike and dismantle it so that I don't go back on it again.
I've never known what it's like to be thin. I don't even know what it's like to be thinner. I've lost 60+lbs, but to me, I still look the same. I don't see any differences, although I keep hearing I look different. Once upon a time, I used to think that I didn't care about my weight. People could accept me or not. I've come to realise that was a lie. It hurts when people comment badly about my weight. Believe me, I've had more bad comments than I'd like to admit. Not only from friends and family, but doctors and even complete strangers. You really start wondering what you've done wrong when complete strangers start screaming obscenities at you as you're walking down the street, and it's all directed at your weight. You're eating an apple for lunch and people look at you like you've just eaten enough for a buffet for an entire family. A lot of the time, it feels as though I can't win. I struggle to lose weight only to have something like the above happen. That flicks a switch in me which sets me on the bike and trying to do things with my eating. If I weren't fat, I'm worried that I'd be anorexic. Don't allow yourself to eat food and then exercise to make sure that the calories start to come off. If they don't, then I have to be even harder on myself. After years of being told how fat I am, and being told by doctors that I'm morbidly obese, it's really taking it's toll. I'm just really glad that God and others look to the heart and not so much on the physical side of things. Does that mean that I shouldn't be doing anything about my weight? No. It just means that I need to chill out some more about it, and let God help me in that area.
I could write a lot more about this, but I think it would just get more negative, so I'll stop it there. Instead, I'll find one of the blog entries that I posted in my last blog, so that you can get to know me a little better.
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 5/5/2005 8:33:23 PM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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This week, I had an interesting moment with one of my Crosswalk friends. Not only was it enlightening for them, but also for me.
Just a quick question before I go on. How do you perceive me? Quiet? Loud? Obnoxious? Respectful? Somebody who could give a person a really hard time if I wanted to? Stubborn? Friendly? Loyal? Somebody who loves too much? Somebody who loves too little? A social butterfly? Shy? Argumentative? Compassionate? A punching bag? Somebody who would crush an empty beer can with their forehead when they'd finished drinking its contents? Angry? Somebody who would have got headbutted by a skinhead at a cabaret? A perfectionist? Somebody who swore/cussed a lot?
Well, if you picked any or all of those things, then you would actually be correct. Maybe not all in the same time frame, or people would REALLY think that I had mental problems! The truth is though, that at some point in my life, those things have ALL been me.
Next month, I will have been a Christian for 15 years. Before then, I'd heard of Christ. I even thought that I was a Christian. I got involved in things that I'm not proud of as a non Christian. I was a heavy drinker, into the occult. I smoked. At one point, I shared a house with six other people, two of them with major anger issues. I'd been involved in many abusive relationships. (Just not the dating kind if you know what I mean). Friends, family, acquaintances. I never asked to be abused. Who does? I felt that as my family or people that were important to me, that they had a right to do so. They knew me pretty well, especially my family, and I thought their judgement must have been better than mine. I got the message that I wasn't ok, and so, in an attempt to please everybody around me, I became lots of different things to different people. That all left me feeling really confused.
I drank, because I'd seen my family do it, despite the fact that I hated seeing the results it produced in them. At the time, I thought it was fun. It made me seem more grown up. It was something to try and numb the pain. It also saw me make some really stupid judgements. I grew up angry. When I left home, I became the nice, quiet girl who didn't dare offend at the risk of being abused more. When I drank, there were times when my inhibitions really got away. I became an obnoxious drunk who argued, sometimes got into fights and continued to be easily hurt. I was so many things that you wouldn't associate with me nowadays. I shocked somebody earlier on this week, in just sharing a couple of things with them about my past.
Why am I bringing this up? To glorify what I was before? Certainly not. I'm saying it, because I know beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am a very different person than I used to be. Not because of what I've done on my own. I know that I am the person I am today, because of what Jesus did and is doing in my life. I know I have a long way to go to improve and be more like Jesus, but I know too, that I'm on my way. I look back at the person that I used to be before my relationship with Christ, and I was a vastly different person. I wonder if you would have recognised me then. I look back in amazement at what I used to be, because it is so different from the me that exists now. My nature is a lot gentler than it used to be. I can empathise with people that once I couldn't have. I'm not afraid to talk to people involved in the occult about Christ. I know how He set me free, and I want to see them walking in that same freedom.
I admit, there are times when I lose hope about myself. That's one of the classic symptoms of depression, and I know about that all too well. I thank God, that He's never lost hope in me. There are times when I think that I'm too hard for God. That others are too hard for God. I have to learn to take my eyes off of myself, and put them squarely back on God. Whatever I might think is too hard, is nothing to God. He has the power to do whatever He likes, when He likes. He brings people to Himself every day. He heals people every day. We may not see it, or hear of it, but we have a miracle working God. The things we think are impossible to change, as I thought of my life, He can and does change, if we give Him the opportunity.
I think of the story about the child who gives their shattered toy to their father, upset that it can't be fixed. I'm like that with my life and my heart. I'm giving it to the Father. To me, it seems impossible to fix, but in His eyes, it's a work in process. He sees the finished product, whereas I can only see the pieces. Thankyou Lord that you take the shattered pieces of my life and reconstruct them into something beautiful.
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 5/7/2005 11:56:43 AM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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Hi everybody. Just wanted to make a quick note before I start. If there is anything you'd like to know about me or my life here in this blog, you can either just pm me, or put the suggestion in my thread. Don't worry, if I don't feel comfortable talking about it in here, I won't. By the way, thanks for reading. I know that there are a few people who do, but you never know who else gets to read this as well. Ok, on with the show.
It seems I've created a little bit of a reaction with my blog so far. Not in a bad way. It's never been my intention to deliberately stand out. I guess those that have known me for a while around CW have seen a certain side to me. I can be the happy, joking hug addict sometimes. Then there are other times when I just struggle my way through things. Depression can sink in pretty deeply sometimes, and I know at those times in particular, I can be a bit of a worry to people. Either way, I'm still here, and still trying to laugh at the things that life deals me. Thankfully, I've got lots of friends to laugh with around here. There are so many of you here who are so precious to me.
Anyway, back to this stir/reaction I've had. Some have noted me about my blog entries. Other places, I've seen the odd comment around here and there. Nothing bad, but just people saying that they see that there's more to me than what I've initially let show. Somebody said to me that they can see how I could have turned out a completely different person than I am now. It's not the first time that I've heard that. When I first started counselling just after I became a Christian, my youth pastor said exactly the same thing. Actually many people have said that to me over the years. I could have turned out to be somebody living on the streets, a much harder person than I am now. Did I ever think about it at the time? Yes. I couldn't stand living at home as a teen, and not just for the usual teen reasons. I think everybody knows that teens can have a hard time growing up. I guess like a lot of people, my years were just made that much harder living with 2 alcoholic parents who were abusive. I think I've said in my blog that my mother was physically, emotionally, mentally and verbally abusive. My father was mainly the latter of the four, however, I can't say that he never ever hit me. My mother used to say that the reason why my dad and I fought so much is because we were so much alike. I personally don't see it, but then again, I don't remember much of his personality. I hear I was daddy's little girl when I was young. My only real memories of my dad were that he had to be near death before he'd call in sick from work. I remember where he kept his stash of booze, whatever wasn't being brought into the house daily. He had more than one type of liquor that he drank. Beer and rum. I remember constant arguing.
One night, when I was about 13 or 14, I remember my dad and I had this huge argument. My mother wasn't home. I had had enough, and really couldn't take it anymore. I told my dad that I wanted to leave and just go and live on the streets. I couldn't take all the things that were going on around the place. Never knowing when they were going to walk in the door, or what mood they'd be in when they got here. Whether I was going to be safe once they got home. I lived in terror, and I had spent the last few years praying that I would die, so that I didn't have to face that day after day. I believed God was real, and I couldn't understand at the time why God would not answer me, or send me some help somehow. This night, after that huge argument, I tried to leave. I didn't care. I would go and live under the bridge. Anything would have been better than where I was. I was still dressed in my school uniform. I would have just grabbed my school books and gone to school everyday like nothing had happened. As I tried to leave, my dad hit me hard, fairly and squarely in the face, telling me that I would not be leaving the house. I knew that if I tried for the door again, I would just wear another of his punches. I think that he was afraid that somebody would find out what was going on in this crazy family of mine. It would not be seen as the done thing to have your teenage daugther living on the streets and be seen as a respectable family. Appearances were important to my parents. Behind the scenes, the family was falling apart, but we had to appear as though everything was going on well, and there weren't any problems. Some knew my circumstances and did nothing. There were promises that if anything else happened, they would get me help, but it never came. What didn't help was that my youngest brother is one of the bosses in the social welfare department in New Zealand, which deals with situations like mine. My brothers never thought I'd suffered anything. They saw it as normal, as they had been through worse than me. One brother even told me that I had it easy in comparison to them. Maybe I did. As somebody so sensitive however, it was just as devastating. Due to the intense fellowship, I ended up staying at home, but I became a very hard person. Every second word was a swear/cuss word. Emotionally distant. I hear that I could cut somebody to shreds with my words. My parents had first hand experience of that, but I had no other way of expressing myself. I didn't have the skills, and I doubted that they would have taken any notice of anything less. I even doubt that they listened to what I said, even with cutting remarks. I was emotionally void. I learned that if I cried, I got into trouble. Hugs and displays of affection never happened in our household. Hugs were not acceptable. Any show of anything other than positive emotions was a real no no. I learned not to cry and I built up so many walls around myself. Nobody was allowed to hug me. It was way too close contact, and I felt completely uncomfortable about it. My body would just stiffen if anybody tried. For years, even after I moved out of home, I was the same way.
I talked to John last night about the whole thing of being a street kid. He wonders whether the way my dad hit me that night and refused to let me leave, was God's provision. It kept me in the house and out of danger.
I was wondering this morning how I would have fared as a streetkid. I don't think I have the street smarts required to live that life. Despite the tough exterior, I know that inside, I am a real softy and really sensitive to things. I don't know that I would have had the resourcefulness to have had the life of a streetkid. John says that I'd have the intelligence to learn, but looking back on it now, Dad's behaviour did stop me from leaving the house that night. Did I ever think about it since then? Sure. Somehow God kept me at home until I eventually moved out with other people that I knew.
I'm a completely different person than I was then. God has gradually broken down the hardness in my character and personality. Now I can empathise with others in their circumstances. I don't physically stiffen up whenever most people go to give me a hug. It's a real improvement. I think God kept me from being a streetkid. I look at how I am now, and I don't think I could ever have chosen that life now. Yes, the circumstances were there that could have swayed me in that direction, but God protected me from that decision. This isn't a testament to how God is. It's a story of what God's been doing with me.
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 5/7/2005 12:24:31 PM
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cherish405
Posts: 32270
Joined: 4/11/2005
From: The Land Down Under
Status: offline
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Somebody asked me to talk about my spiritual gifts and how I use them. For now, I'll just talk about one of my most obvious giftings. Some of you may know the story, but please bear with me as I tell others who don't know.
As you may have guessed, my number one gifting is mercy/compassion. There's lots of ways that this gets used. I find it helpful when praying with somebody, encouraging somebody, helping somebody.
After I had surgery in '99, I was really questioning God about what I could do that would really make a difference in the lives of people. I'd really been struggling with this, seeing others moving in their ministry areas, and I'd been feeling useless. I'd made a couple of meals for some families that needed a bit of help. I talked to John about my frustration of not knowing what to do. He told me to do what was in front of my face. I knew that I'd made a few meals that had blessed some people. I decided that that was something that I could do. Not long after that, we heard of a family in our church who could really use some help. The mother and young son had been involved in a car accident, leaving the mother in a really bad way, physically. She could no longer work, and her husband was working full time, and studying part time to learn how to do the massage his wife needed, to try and curb costs some. Their boys were only very young, and not old enough to cook meals and help with the bulk of housework etc. I just had this hairbrain thought, "I wonder how much it would cost to feed a family of 4 for a week". So, I went out and bought and made their dinners for the week. It was just a matter of them heating the meal up. I'd have a huge cook up, and then freeze the meals until they were needed. Slowly we heard of more people needing help with meals. I added them to the list. I'm only on a disability pension, which isn't much, but I felt like this was something that God was calling me to, and that He would supply the finances to help me do it. The family I fed after the mother was involved in an accident, ended up lasting for 3 years. I mean, we fed the family for 3 years, not the mother lasted 3 years. It developed into quite a ministry. John and Joan are on the pastoral care team at our church, and so they hear of people who need help in that area. There were some days when I'd get up really early in the morning and work until late at night. Some days 120 meals were made in a day. Sometimes a couple of hundred meals in a week. I don't do the long days like I used to as my back just couldn't take it, but I still do the meals. God keeps providing the finances for it, and I don't feel that I am to stop yet. I cook meals in bulk, putting lots of vegetables in things, even when they don't call for them. I always make sure there is a carb of some description in there to bulk up the meal and fill the recipients. I know some of the people who get the meals, but not all. I just need to know that there's somebody who needs them, and if there's anything in there, I'm all too happy to just open the freezer to them. I'm not some great cook. I know heaps of people who cook so much better than me, but the food is edible, and people appreciate it. I'm just being obedient to the Lord.
More later.
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*** Gone crazy. Back soon. ***
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RE: A life to cherish - 5/12/2005 9:29:41 AM
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cherish405
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