How do you pronounce your husband's name again?

"like a pair of old shoes, we are useless without each other (well, I’m useless without him, but I think he’d do okay without me since he’s way better at parenting and adulting than I am). Thank you, Lord for my other shoe!!!"

From an article about marriage on Velvet Ashes.

That's how I feel too, about Soeun. The fact that he can pronounce my name correctly every time but I can't do the same for him is indicative of our language and culture skills.  He knows how to function in my country, Australia. And I quite happily live in his country Cambodia but probably with a lot more limitation. It doesn't feel limited to me on a day by day basis but if I were suddenly dropped in rural Cambodia it would be quite a shock. Conversely if he were dropped out back of Bourke he would probably be OK.   

People often ask me what is hard about cross cultural marriage. I used to try to think of something interesting to say, while secretly wondering if we were doing it wrong. Was it meant to be hard? Why did people keep asking me that question, why didn't an answer come to mind? I think Soeun does most of the language and culture work in our relationship so to me it just feels like home.

Five Minute Friday free write link up. This week the word is: NAME

Edit update: Just now I was with some English speakers. A friend was explaining to a new person about my husband.
My friend turned to me and asked me something along the lines of "How do you say your husband's name?" (Which made me laugh as I had just  written this.)
"Soeun"  I said
But then my daughter piped up, declaring to a table full of adults, "But his real name is Daddy."

Culture Gap between generations {fmf}

“Yucky” was my son’s first reaction when he saw people wearing shoes inside. It was his first ever visit to Sydney, Australia.

It was alarming for him when he was handed a drink of tap water.  “But that will make me sick.”

I was amused. After growing up in Australia I have lived in Asia most of my adult life. I always find it weird going back to Australia and doing those things again, after not doing them for so long. But for my son he is not doing them AGAIN, it was all new to him.

My children are Australian. I'm Australian. We all live in Cambodia together, but our experience of this is different. My children are having their developmental years here, forming their identity.

When I came across this article about the Culture Gap I realised I needed to learn more.  

This gap can go unnoticed which creates frustrations and kids growing up overseas usually feel misunderstood by their parents. Most of culture is like the bulk of the iceberg, hidden under the water. Things like shoes and taps are easy to see and talk about, but most things aren't. There is a reason the author called her book Misunderstood. 

Hopefully we as parents can notice this gap and learn to see the world from our children’s point of view.  

I don't know if I explained this very well. If you are a parent bringing kids up overseas I encourage you to read this, or this. Or these. Or watch this 3 minute video.

This week the Five Minute Friday free write word prompt is CULTURE


Photo by Jacek Dylag on Unsplash

Counselling is like trying to photograph a gecko skeleton

I wasn't sure what to expect when I became a counselling client. Here is how it worked out for me.

Regrouping after realising something was wrong

Living in the tropics we have geckos flitting all over our house. My son was fascinated when he discovered a gecko skeleton on the floor and asked for my phone to take a photo. At first he was frustrated. He couldn’t see anything on the phone screen.  Taking a photo up close with auto focus was harder than he thought. After some playing around he found the gecko on the screen and eventually we got it clear enough to take a photo.

It reminded me of how a year and a half ago I came to realise that annoying blur on the edge of my life was actually something. I wasn’t just going to get over the weird feeling I had when I thought about the start of my husband’s chronic illness.  Even though it had been more than 5 years it was still an issue. I felt like I had been defeated by my emotions and needed to regroup although I didn't even know what the blur was.  

The word prompts for A Chronic Voice blog link for this month help describe the last 18 months.

Regrouping. Investigating. Boosting. Setting. Reviving . 

Read on to find out more and visit over here to see what other chronic illness bloggers up to in May. 

Investigating the issue

Counselling sessions gave me a chance to say what I was actually feeling, not what I thought I should be feeling. All those years ago when my husband was debilitated by dizziness, it didn’t seem like the problem was that big. People who I asked for help told me I would probably be fine soon.

But early 2018 I realised what happened in 2011-12 was still impacting me. I spend two years feeling like my husband was dying or dead. I only came to realise was a big deal after having to articulate the emotions I had during those years. The first counsellor (TFC) called this unresolved grief.

To help process this grief TFC suggested journaling. In theory it sounded good but I didn’t really feel like I had anything to write about. Even though I journal and blog I came up blank at that suggestion. Where would I start?

At last the blur had a name, it became a shape, something I could talk about.

Boosting my understanding

After the second counsellor (TSC) heard my frustrations of not being able to get over it she said it had probably changed my brain. TSC called it “big T trauma”.

Despite planning a “fail proof” trip back to the place where it happened (Australia) I still had that weird horrible feeling. I had been calling it anxiety.  I thought I was scared of something that might happen in the future. But that weird feeling I had when I was forced to think about the events was not anxiety about the future.

I was actually re-living a feeling I had had in the past! My brain was tricking me.

This clarity relieved a lot of frustration.

The blur that became a shape now had a more defined outline.

Our son took a blurry photo of his watermelon drink

Setting out to learn more

So there I was realising finally that I had suffered grief and trauma back when my husband was first sick then I read about a type of traumatic unresolved grief.  

I was excited to find a more specific way to describe it: Ambiguous loss.

This concept popped up on my screen thanks to Marilyn Gardner (the third counsellor?).

From The Frozen Sadness of Ambiguous Loss

 “  "I move on and find out there are two types of ambiguous loss: One is that the person/place/family is physically absent, but psychologically present, in that they may reappear. This can be loss from divorce, moving, boarding school, migration. The other is that the person is physically present, but the core of who they are is absent. Examples of this are people with dementia or alzheimers." 

It had  felt like my husband was absent but he was actually physically present so it didn’t look like a loss. Reading more from Pauline Boss, who coined the term, things makes a lot of sense. It explains why the magnitude of my loss wasn’t acknowledged. The loss was unclear.

I feel like I could write much more about this but for now I’ll just say it is such a relief to have someone else explain what happened and why it is so painful after not being able to explain it for so long.  

I wrote about this feeling of clarity the week I first came across it. You can read it here: Frozen Sadness.  Interestingly at the time I did note here that he felt more present when he was away in Cambodia while I was still back in Australia.

The shape on the screen had even more than a clear outline now, I could see some details.

Reviving my going forward strategy  

I’ve found some clues to help me go forward. Looking at my timeline of post trauma events I can see what helps and what doesn't.

Where I felt forced to be in certain situations it just made me feel worse. “Rip the Bandaid off” was my method at one point when I thought it was something I would just have to get over; but so far that seems ineffective. Ignoring it for years also didn’t help.

Writing about it is one thing that helps. I think I’m going to call my blog the fourth counsellor. Perhaps it’s because I’m recalling the memories myself without the presence of the weird feeling.  I think TSC mentioned this would help separate the memory from the stress hormone reaction. And TFC also mentioned writing. An example 5 ways living with an undiagnosed illness in the family is stressful. Also this has more about writing.

The blur, became a shape, with an outline, then a few details and now with writing feel clearly defined.

So there you have it. Its only the tip of the iceberg but hopefully this gave you an idea of how counselling for me has been like focusing in on what it is going on and finally seeing the details. 

  

Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash

Feeling betrayed {fmf}

He laughed and talked for ages in the local language. All that smiling I assumed it promised happiness. But later the missionary told us he had been talking about some really tragic and sad things, such as his child dying. When I was new to cross cultural life I felt betrayed. I thought the smile promised happiness, but it didn't.

My husband, full of relief ran to the library to borrow a stack of books to read for his essay. We thought a pain free day was the promise of good health. But later the sickness consumed him again and the stack of books went unread. When we were new to chronic illness life we felt betrayed. We thought a good day promised recovery, but it didn't.

I felt betrayed in both cases, but actually promises were never made. Learning to reinterpret has been part of learning our new normal as we cross cultures and live with pain.

This week the Five Minute Friday link up word prompt is PROMISE.

Photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash

4 reasons I hate going to church {fmf}

I feel like I never get anything out of it, or put anything into it.
Plus it throws off my kids sleep so we all get extra tired and grumpy on Sundays.
The practical side of taking 2 kids to church is hard.

But while all this is going on- the getting there, and finally being there, but not involved in the main meeting, there is a fourth reason I hate going to church. I'm also dealing with a broken brain. Whenever my husband has to miss church due to his chronic illnesss, my brain tricks me into re-living the feeling I had when he was first sick. It was a long time ago but it was traumatic.

So with all this as the norm, it makes it really hard to get there each Sunday. Why do we do this? What is the point of the practice of going to church if  I can't hear a Bible talk or pray with people? If I'm never going to be able to sign myself up on any rosters? (Our church fellowship is run by others like me, we don't have a pastor.)

With feelings of exhaustion and without answers, but still feeling like I need to be at church (am I just being graceless, legalistic?), Sunday just feels like an insurmountable mountain.

I was particularly overwhelmed this Sunday just gone. It was potluck week. Eating dinner together is such a great practice for a group of Christians. But getting food for myself and 2 little people after playing in the hot sun for two hours? Not so great. The table of food looked inviting, but the people chaos was too much, I stepped out of the line with my 3 plates and 2 kids.

Why hadn't I gone home earlier as planned? I knew this was going to be too hard. The tears that had been trying to escape for the last couple of hours were almost having success.

But then two kind people grabbed a plate each and started getting food for the kids.

Suddenly things felt much easier, and I had an answer to my question. Why do I go to church when I end up exhausted with nothing to show for it?

Community. I'm part of the church.

Maybe for now all I need to be doing is being there.

Turn up and hand the plate over.

(End of 5 minutes.)

This week’s Five Minute Friday writing prompt is: PRACTICE

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I'm sharing my story with you for the same reason as Fruitful Today. 

"My prayer is that your church relationships will be strengthened through this series (of interviews), whether you’re living with an invisible illness, or seeking to better support those in your church family who live with ongoing health conditions." 

"I hope you enjoy these glimpses inside the minds of your chronically ill brothers and sisters in Christ!" 

You can read them here:Interviews about church and invisible illness

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While brutal at the time, the issues with kids feels a bit easier than the chronic illness one for me. Many other people have done it, or a doing it. Plus its a temporary situation. In 5 years time the kids will be 5 years older!  

For more on going to church with kids The Gospel Coalition has this : 5 reasons to keep going to church with baby brain.

Photo by Charles Etoroma on Unsplash

What happens when you don't give yourself an opportunity? {fmf}

My relationship with thankfulness soured when I realised I'd used it to paper over pain. At the time I thought I was doing the right thing, being thankful. I've been wondering and trying to get a new perspective on this. I don't want to continually feel cynical every time there is an opportunity for gratitude. I don't want to stop being thankful altogether. 

I think I found what I was looking for today when I read this Power's Out Protocol on A Life Overseas. On the surface it is about how one American family is coping with heat and humidity (here in Cambodia) while the power and water keep going on and off like twinkle lights. Well, maybe more off than on. If you've lived in tropics you know how essential a fan and water are when the temperature is hovering around 38 degrees (which is about 100 degrees if you are from Myanmar, Liberia, America etc). And the humidity... 

Step One of their protocol was to give themselves the opportunity to acknowledge how hard it was (actually they suggested swearing). It wasn't until step FIVE the author said it was time to say something you are grateful for. 

From step one:

"1. @#(Q^&#!!!! (bleep)

We don’t STAY here, in the first step, but we do allow it. The alternative is to try to rush past reality, forcing ourselves and our children into a hazy universe where Christians are never uncomfortable, where Christians aren’t allowed to feel (or voice) difficult emotions, and frankly, that’s not very Biblical."

And from step five: 

"5. Say something you’re grateful for
This isn’t just some kitschy saying, belonging on hand towels at your grandmom’s house. This is actually evidence-based. And Biblically-based, turns out.

This is step five, NOT step one. That’s important. We do want to shepherd our kids and ourselves into an overarching attitude of gratefulness. But forcing gratefulness too soon just leads to hypocrisy and resentment." 

So I think that is what I've been looking for. It is not that thankfulness is bad but when I was in pain I skipped past step one, I didn't give myself the opportunity to realise things were hard . My pain was an ambiguous loss, related to invisible illness so it wasn't obvious to me or those around me. I just skipped over that fact that I felt like I had lost my husband and went straight to all the many things I could be thankful for- food, friends, shelter.

"So my husband is in unending pain, but at least I have bread and milk."

...free write for five minutes flat on a one-word writing prompt:opportunity ...