Things I Don’t Do

Let me tell you what's on my list 🙋🏼‍♀️

Hey friend,

The other day, I got a text from my husband, asking if I wanted to go on a date. 

Yes. Yes. 100% yes. 

But then, a follow-up text. 

“Want to go see Oppenheimer at the movies?” 

Nope. Hard pass. Movies about nuclear bombs are firmly on the List of Things I Don’t Do. 

There was a time when I would have felt bad about this. 

Photo by Vladyslav Cherkasenko on Unsplash

When I was ten years old, I read one of my Dad’s Australian Police Journals. The issue was about being buried alive. Story after story of women, children trying to escape sepulchral sand. 

I don’t remember how I came to read the magazine in the first place. As an adult, I’ve heard stories of people forced by their parents to read, or had their reading severely curtailed by strict parents. I never had any of that. I had free reign to read whatever I liked. I don’t think my parents really knew what I was reading, they were just happy I was reading. 

Anyway, I read these graphic investigations relayed in detached tones, and they burned into my brain. Children dug a hole on the beach, then sand invaded every pore. They died clawing ineffectively. Women raped and buried, still alive, in the dunes. Died with a strangled scream in their mouths. 

Nightmares started to wake me in the middle of the night.

I’ve had a series of unusual jobs, the type of job where you wish you could just tell people at a party that you work in administration to avoid questions. My old boss told me when she was out drinking, she told people she was a florist. 

When child abuse and violent offending is your day job, there is an excess of material to read. Statements of Material Facts, Incident Reports, Charges, Convictions, Affidavits, Single Expert Witness Reports, Treatment Assessments, and Parole Board Reports. For a long time, I read voraciously. It helped me to feel prepared before interviewing clients. 

“It is alleged that he kicked the victim with his steel-cap boots while she was curled up on the floor, arms around her pregnant belly.”

“The victim was not known to the accused. The victim reported that he was working in his garden when the accused struck him with a large rock over his head.” 

“Mr. and Mrs. S reported that they parked their vehicle inside the gates in their property, left the windows down and let their son, L. sleep while they bought the groceries inside. At approximately 10.42am the accused stole the vehicle with the child still inside.”¹

I read everything on file. I didn’t want people to think I was unprepared. Or worse, couldn’t hack it. But those images, those little grains of sand, began to accumulate in my mind.

I took myself off Instagram and Facebook in 2018, not long after the birth of my first son. I realised I was spending hours on the app every day, and feeling terrible about my life in comparison to everyone else’s highlight reels. Given that I was pregnant, studying, writing a dissertation, and working in a prison where I could not access my phone for my entire working day, I was at a loss to say where that time was coming from. 

After closing down all my social media accounts, I realised that I was completely out of touch with the news. I dutifully downloaded the news apps, signed up for news emails, and did my best to keep up as a global citizen. But soon, information invaded every pore. 

My job requires me to sit with heaviness, day in and day out. It’s dumb, how hard can it be sitting in a chair and listening to people? But sometimes, I come home from counselling and take a nap. It’s sitting with those who are mourning, or disclosing trauma and abuse for the first time. I don’t always ‘sit with’ well, but I am trying. God calls me to rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn (Romans 12:15). 

For better or for worse, I am someone who processes information deeply. I take everything deep into my heart. I want to consider a situation from every possible angle. But I am coming to accept that while my sensitivity to others' pain is why I am good at my job, it also must be managed carefully.

God does not ask me to be omniscient. He does not need me to know everything. That attribute is only true of Him. I, however, am dust. From dust I came and from dust I will return (Genesis 3:19). I am coming to learn God has placed limits on my mind, for my good. 

I want to be able to respond to suffering around me in a way that brings glory to God. But I cannot do what he actually asks me to do if I am taking in the death and suffering of other people as entertainment. When there is too much, I end up in flight or freeze response. My body turns to numbness and apathy to escape. I don’t want to breed anhedonia in my soul. 

I’m in a season of life where I have responsibilities. God has given me a husband; children; our families; the ministry I coordinate, including the women and children who come; my team; my bible study groups; my friends; and my counselling clients. He is not holding me responsible for keeping up with the news. I don’t need to watch every bleak show, no matter how many good reviews it gets. I don’t need to doomscroll. I don’t need to watch movies about atomic bombs. 

When I am feeling grumpy and tired, I have to check my inputs. Have I been eating veggies and taking my supplements, or have I fallen off the Bacon and Egg McMuffin wagon? Am I sleeping enough? Am I moving my body? Similarly, if I am feeling anxious, if I have soul-fever, I need to check my inputs. What am I watching? Reading? Who am I listening to? Have I been reading my Bible and praying?

It’s not ignoring the evils of this world, but discerning good limits for my mind, so I can serve faithfully and sustainably. It’s remembering that boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places for me (Psalm 16:6).

This essay was inspired by

Shauna Niequist

’s essay Things I Don’t Do in her book Bittersweet. Click here to read the next one in this series. . 

I’m Loving

You all know my struggles with patience, so it’s not surprising that I loved this chat. This whole series actually. And this discussion on humility and bodies that don’t do what we want them to do. 

This chat with a chaplain to ambos stuck with me. Especially the image of her turning up late at night to accidents with brownies and sitting in silence with families.

Finally read Demon Copperhead and it 100% lives up to the hype. Masterpiece 👌🏼

This month, I also read Suleika Jaoud’s memoir with sumptuous, poetic prose, and The Secret Place by Tana French. The latter is literary fiction crossed with a police procedural crossed with psychological thriller. So good! 

I made this one pan Mexican dish and it is truly amazing! I used to make a similar meal but with many, many dishes 😂

Don’t know how I never made one of these before, but they’re fun! 

In Case You Missed It 

This feels terribly self-promotion-y but I am passionate about hospitality and welcome, so I am taking a deep breath to tell you I was interviewed on The Gospel Coalition Australia about Jesus’ welcome to us and what that has to do with mothering small children, nannas and a drop-in playgroup. And if that encourages you to welcome people, then my cringe is worth it. Exhale. 

Part-Time Poets

ran a three-volume issue for Halloween with so many delightful poems. The theme was mask. Loved seeing so many many guest submissions alongside our regular contributors! Mine is Monica Geller with a Dash of Hermione. Check it out! 

Mask: Volume I

 

Tell me in the comments:

1. Are you a news junkie? Is it your favourite thing rather than a Thing You Don’t Do?

2. What is on your list of Things I Don’t Do? What permission slips have you given yourself to not feel bad about? Tell me everything, serious and silly!

3. Do you have any boundaries for your mind?

4. What does it mean to you that God knows everything? Has this truth changed your life in any way?

1. This little boy was actually totally fine. The guy abandoned the car almost immediately after realising there was a child inside.