The truth about journeying with illness that isn’t physical

Monday was international mental health awareness day and as this is something that has become part of my family's life over the last few years, I have been pondering how to write about it. I'm hesitant, but last week I was encouraged by two separate people within an hour of one another, that telling our stories is valuable and important, something I know, but need reminding of occasionally. And another person on the same day asked about my writing. All of this was a reminder that God has given me a gift for writing, so I should use it, even when it is a little bit scary. For though I’ve talked to various people about portions of the journey that our family have been on with mental illness, writing it in a public forum is a different level. I’m scared to hit publish on this post!

Until mental illness became part of my own family's story, I knew little about it. Though possibly I knew more than some as my university degree touched on it. But I consciously tried to stay as far away from having to interact with this topic and this “scene” as I could, until it appeared under my own roof and I couldn't run any more. I’m writing for those of you who have no experience of living with someone with a mental illness, that you might know some of the struggles we have. But I also write for the other parents out there who are quietly, perhaps silently, struggling.

I recently got quite upset when someone wrote on their social media page that they'd never heard a negative comment about their child. It's difficult to imagine a life like that. I'd like to be someone who hasn't had to talk to teachers about their child's behaviour (behaviour that stemmed from a neurodevelopmental disorder and mental illness). I'd like to be someone who hasn't had to take their child to a psychologist for an assessment and had a diagnosis (or several) presented to them. I'd like to be someone who hasn't had to research psychiatric drugs and sit in a psychiatrist's office.

I'm scarred because I've heard mothers of classmates of my son say things that show they don't understand their kids are barely aware that my son is in their class, let alone that he’s struggling. And I’m wounded because another mother told me she'd hate to have a child with a disability. So

This little plant is thriving in a hard place. That's what I want to see me and my family doing too. 

I hesitate to share about our experience because I know there are people out there who simply aren't interested in understanding.

But what I was most sad about when I started this blog post the other day is that someone may think that they have never heard a negative thing about their child because they are great parents and have, in their own power and strength, raised amazing children.

I know that I haven't been a perfect parent and that my kids have not had a perfect childhood, but I can't allow myself to be ashamed that they've struggled. That we've struggled as a family. A lot of what's happened isn't my fault, and nor is it the fault of my children.

I wish I didn't have the knowledge that suicidal thoughts are part of one of my son's experience. I wish that another of my sons hadn't had someone close to him take her life.

I wish that our dinner times had been ones of great conversation and connection over the years. We’ve often struggled, and it’s not because we don’t value that time. We’ve tried, really hard, every day, but dinners are still often a struggle. Polite conversation is not something everyone does well, or happily. I wish I could say I hadn’t felt judged because of my kids’ social skills.

Mental illness in a teenager is difficult because it is very often not easy to diagnose. It masquerades as a lack of motivation, as belligerence, as disobedience, as stubbornness, or a lack of confidence, and many other ways that look like behavioural issues, not illness.

For example: Is not sitting with anyone at lunchtime at school worthy of concern? Are they shy and prefer their own company, or do they lack the same interests or social skills as other children, are they the victim of bullying, or are they socially anxious, or do the sounds that other people make when they eat bother them? As they get older: not being able to get assignments in on time: is that just poor organisation, or is it because they have trouble concentrating, or are they depressed and struggling with motivation? Or is the effort just to get out of the house and interact with others through the day draining them of all the energy they have and there’s none left for doing difficult assignments?

I wish I was someone who could talk freely with my son about future plans. Plans for college or work; about the big, hairy audacious goals that some young people have. For several years we’ve struggled to talk to him about the next week. Anxiety takes a toll and makes planning for the next day hard, let alone planning for the start of life after high school.

As a parent of someone with mental illness, I've had to be hypervigilant at times (and I know that is the case for some parents of kids with other disorders also, like epilepsy and some kids on the Autistic Spectrum). Hypervigilance is exhausting. It's a hidden hurdle a parent must overcome to participate in daily life outside the home. If you have to be hypervigilant, it's important to take care of yourself and please don't feel you have to make excuses.

Mental illness in your house means you become a buffer between your child and the rest of the world. An advocate too, if you choose to be. I've had to spend a lot of time explaining our son and our family to others. Explaining why my son isn't getting out of bed at an "appropriate" time, explaining why he's wearing headphones, or why he's hitting his head. I've had to explain why he's not participating in polite dinner conversation or why he won't share a bedroom with his brother when we're traveling.

We've had to adjust our family's life and our parenting in so many big and small ways, it is hard to even remember them all now because many have become instinctual. It's only when other people see us behaving in a way they don't think is normal that we remember (and may have to explain).

Grief is part of all this and I guess that is part of why I feel this so deeply when people "boast" about their brilliant kids. I grieve that my family has suffered in this way. I am sad that what seems easy to some, is a battle for us. On a bad day it's tough to keep looking upwards, to trust that our God loves us and our kids as much as he says he does. To know that he goes before us, and that our situation is known to him. 

Cumulative grief

This is the 20th year since I first left Australia to work in Japan as a missionary. In that time I’ve said hundreds of goodbyes, the sorts of goodbyes that preceded people moving internationally. Some were “I plan to be back in a year/four years” goodbyes, others “I don’t know if or when I’ll be back”. Some were “I’m leaving”, others were “you’re leaving”. The latter is often swept under the carpet as a minor grief. But over the years I’ve said so many goodbyes that it’s become more major than any single goodbye.

So at the risk of sounding repetitive, grief, in particular my experience of grief as a missionary, is what is on my mind today.

This kind of grief has a name: cumulative grief. It occurs when there are many losses in a short time or after multiple losses on a regular basis. It is certainly something that most of us are experiencing after all the cancellations and restrictions of the last few months. Missionaries struggle with it and, I suspect elderly people too, as one by one they lose people they love over the years.

Sarita Hartz hits the nail on the head when she writes in this article that perseverance is valued in missionary circles. So the “done thing” is to push through, to carry on. (Which, as an aside also makes this kind of grief something like "disenfranchised grief" when a loss is felt, but not acknowledged by others as important; see a list of different types of grief here.)

“Missions is a field where persevering is celebrated, and stopping to grieve is shamed. It’s no wonder we have so much burnout.Our lack of authenticity and our inability to make space for it, is strangling the very mission we’ve set out to do.How can we expect to be a reflection of Jesus when we haven’t taken the time to be honest with Him about the state of our hearts?Authenticity grows in the environment of intimacy.”

Yes. I write about grief regularly, especially around this time. It’s my Achilles heel, a chronic injury, if you like. 

I said another goodbye yesterday, with someone who I’ve shared things with that I’ve told few others. I couldn’t even hug my friend. But we did get to sit in the park with our coffees.

I cried. Not just for this loss of a friend (she’s in the “I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again” category), but for all the friends I’ve lost before her.

I woke at 4 am this morning thinking of all the times we’ve spent together and the occasions when I would miss seeing her in the future.

The cruel thing about this kind of grief is that little voice inside that tells you you have nothing much to be sad about, after all, this is nothing compared to losing a child or spouse. It is not easily compared with those massive griefs. I am not immobilised, and there is no need for me to take compassionate leave just because I said goodbye to a friend yesterday. However, that doesn't mean that my losses are irrelevant, that I should ignore them.

I was very encouraged to receive this in an email from a friend who knows a bit about grief: 

“Trust me. I understand that accumulated grief. Goodbyes are so difficult. They are absolutely gut-wrenching...I'm praying for you, dear sister. What you are struggling with is normal and really hard to process. So many people don't understand that because they haven't had to go what you're going through.”

I was also encouraged by an article in Japan Harvest this year that talked about biblical lamenting. (We don't yet have a separate electronic file, but you can see it here, on p22). It encourages me to dwell in the Psalms, for example 77, or 73.

This was entirely unintentional "therapy" yesterday.
I made focaccia and veggie burgers for dinner, all from
scratch. I also did a little bit of trimming of my potted
pelargonium and these flowers were casualties. They made
a lovely addition to the table last night when I was
feeling a little shaky.

I'm not sure if I've said anything helpful here. More, just acknowledging that this is a grieving season for me. Made worse this year, I think, because it comes on top of a bunch of losses because of the pandemic (and I'm not talking about deaths here, though that could be true for some of you). And also acknowledging that writing is a form of therapy for me. It helps me to get words "on paper" about the things that are swirling around in my head—things that are stopping me from sleeping, messing with my work, and even interfering with my interactions with others in my house.

And I'm doing what Sarita (above) says is important: being authentic. Admitting I'm hurting.

Oh, and I'm also praying that God would continue to bring special friends into my life here in Japan. I can't allow my grief at goodbyes to cause me to build a wall, because that would be even more damaging. I'm a relational person who needs friends to stay healthy. If I didn't know that already, COVID-19 has reinforced that need. It's also not all about me, none of my friendships are all about me, who knows how God might use me in someone else's life.

I'm rambling now. Time to stop pondering and get on with preparing dinner for the family.  

Big elephants

I wish I could write about some stuff that's been going on recently. There are a couple of elephants in my room that I just can't write about on this public forum because they concern private family matters. But they're taking energy and headspace.

I had someone ask me the other day what was wrong, that I seemed more stressed this home assignment than in previous years . . . but I didn't feel I could share honestly with them either. 

These rice plants looks great. But do note that it has its
feet in the mud! Missionaries can be the same. Look good
on the outside, but don't forget that there is mud too.

So what can I share? How can I write in a way that's consistent with my philosophy of being honest and open, and yet protecting people I love (and myself)?

Perhaps a reminder that what you see isn't all that's going on.

Missionaries deal with stressors that are common to others, but often there is a twist. Check out this list (not all these are mine, but some are):

• Educational issues. TWIST: educational options aren't so broad on the mission field. Home assignments mess with education, especially when moving between different educational types, and different school years eg. Japanese to American, American to Australian.

• Job satisfaction. TWIST: ministry in a country like Japan, where few receive the Lord means it's hard to see what a difference it makes. It can be hard to come back to tell people about what's going on and not be able to report amazing results from the ministry there. 18 years ago we were saying that less than 1% of Japanese people are Christians. We're saying the same thing this year.

• The challenges of extended family. TWIST: we rarely see extended family and problems can be amplified by this absence. Also, they're used to doing things without us, so including us can cause problems. Not to mention non-Christian family members who don't understand why we do what we do.

• Lack of community. TWIST: our community (i.e. people we call our friends) is both widespread (our good friends live across the globe) and constantly changing. Then we change countries for home assignment and find that, for various reasons, community is even harder to find. Loneliness and relationship stress is a big issue.

• Psychological problems. TWIST: often psychological care is harder to access on the mission field. Psychological problems also can be exacerbated by the stressors of life on the mission field.

• High expectations. TWIST: in my experience the expectations on missionaries are different to those on other people. At times it feels like we're expected to be amazing people who don't struggle. We're expected to not make mistakes. We're expected to be able to move in and out of our home country with ease. We also have high expectations of ourselves, for example, expect that we can survive without good community, cope with high stress, persevere without encouragement.

Okay. I'm going to stop there.

To counter the above, I'd have to say that we have the amazing experience of being supported by many in prayer. You shouldn't underestimate how important that is. I think we are in a very privileged situation that many Christians never experience: having many people praying for us. More than 200 people get our prayer letter every month. I've got no idea how many of those pray for us, or how often or how in-depth they pray. But I know that there are people who aren't on our mailing list who pray for us!

James 5:16: "The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working."

Last Sunday we were asked, as we stood in front of a church congregation, for an example we've seen of God at work. I said, "That we've never asked for money and we're still in Japan after 18 years." If I'd been faster at thinking on the spot, I would have expanded that —it's not just the money that God's provided, it's being able to stick at it through all the challenges that have come, and continue to come our way. But all the praise goes to God!

Attractive Authenticity*

We frequently look down on Jesus's friend Martha. She's maligned as the not-so-spiritual sister to Mary. But have you ever thought of her as open and authentic?

I think my friendship with this lady at college had a
big part to play in developing my passion
for authenticity.

On two occasions we see her blurting stuff out to Jesus:

John 11:21

Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died. (NLT)

Luke 10:40

But Martha was distracted by the big dinner she was preparing. She came to Jesus and said, “Lord, doesn’t it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits here while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me.” (NLT)

But her faith was not weak, quite the contrary:

John 11: 25-27 Jesus told her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even after dying. Everyone who lives in me and believes in me will never ever die. Do you believe this, Martha?”“Yes, Lord,” she told him. “I have always believed you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who has come into the world from God.” (NLT)

This is authenticity before Jesus, but what about before our fellow flawed human beings?

I found this in a post I wrote in March last year: 

"I've been reading Looking for God by Nancy Ortberg. It's another compellingly honest book. I could quote many passages, but here is one that's close to my heart:

The greatest apologetic, the best defense or evidence of our faith, is the way we live authentically with God. Authenticity implies honesty, struggles, questions, desert times, shaking fists, and hopeful silences. I can only model what I'm experiencing. Anything else is either behaviour modification or "faking it" – neither of which is transformational.

We have this mistaken idea that living the Christian life is a series of mountaintops, a succession of grand faith adventures."

If you know me personally or have been hanging around here at "on the edge", you'll know that authenticity is something I value highly and try to practise in my writing and living.

It's gotten me in trouble, though. While preparing this post I found another post about authenticity and pain (here). An authentic life is a fine line to walk, though. Especially when I'm writing about other people such as my family. I've gotten it wrong in the past, but I am somewhat held accountable these days by my son/s reading my blog. 

So why should we go to the trouble of being as authentic as we can? Because I know of nothing else that comes close to touching the hearts of others as authenticity does. Yes, it's risky, but in that risk can come great reward. Because I am not perfect and others need to know that so that they aren't deceived. Basically because to not be authentic is to lie.

Certainly anytime I talk about authenticity I feel the need to add a caution. We don't need to blurt everything to everyone. That is lacking in wisdom and indeed is unattractive and unsafe. The safest place to be authentic is with our heavenly Father who has saved us despite our imperfections. But amidst the circle of influence that God gives us we should seek to be as real as we can. But don't be too cautious, there are people around you who need to know that you struggle.

Seek wisdom in how you live out your life authentically:

Those who are wise will shine as bright as the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness will shine like the stars forever. (Daniel 12:3, NLT)

Let's be Marthas!  Deep in faith, open, and authentic.

*This is in response to a writing theme prompt for this week on Velvet Ashes' The Grove, an online community of Christian women serving overseas.

My unusual afternoon

This afternoon, instead of hanging out quietly at home I accompanied my eldest to a wrestling practice. But, you say, isn't all that over?

Well no. Our son is part of a Japanese wrestling club (not sumo, freestyle wrestling) in the off-seasons. He usually goes on Monday nights, but as this is also Spring Break for Japanese schools, a special practise was held this afternoon. 

I went because it was at a venue he's never been to and we weren't confident he would find on his own. It took about an hour by train to get there, not too far by Tokyo standards!

Interestingly we arrived just as some other high schoolers were leaving. One of them we recognised as a very good wrestler in the international school's league. I guess they went to the morning training time, the training we won't allow our son to go to because it is at the same time as church. 

As I sat and watched them train, I was reminded of the many hours I've spent learning the piano. Particularly the hours spent at my teachers house. I had three hours of lessons a week, half of that was a group lesson. Piano is a very solo instrument. You don't usually spend much time with others when you're learning it. At the time I'm not sure if I valued the group lesson as much as I should have. 

But back to wrestling, it's the opposite to piano: there isn't a lot of training you can do alone. You can do "conditioning", strength training etc. alone, but you really need to practise with a partner to improve. But here's where it is the same as a musical instrument. You need to practise the moves over and over again till they become semiautomatic. Till you intuitively know what to do. 

Knowing all this makes it all the more impressive when you actually watch a bout. An awful lot of work has gone into refining those skills!

Sunday afternoon is usually very quiet for us. I generally spend a couple of hours lying down to read and play sudoku, Words with Friends, and Spider Solitaire on my phone. Sometimes I cross-stitch later. However despite spending more than two hours on trains today and then two hours sitting on a vibrating gym floor, I've had a refreshing time. I've been reading Looking for God by Nancy Ortberg.

 It's another compellingly honest book. I could quote many passages, but here is one that's close to my heart:

The greatest apologetic, the best defense or evidence of our faith, is the way we live authentically with God. Authenticity implies honesty, struggles, questions, desert times, shaking fists, and hopeful silences. I can only model what I'm experiencing. Anything else is either behaviour modification or "faking it" – neither of which is transformational.

We have this mistaken idea that living the Christian life is a series of mountaintops, a succession of grand faith adventures.  

It is not...God lives in the struggle. It is there we find Him. 

As school starts up again tomorrow I'm very aware that we're stepping onto a slippery slope. A slope that ends with us moving back to Australia. It's going to be a struggle. I hope I can struggle authentically. But it is encouraging to realise again that I can expect to find God many times in the slide. 

Bits and pieces (and photos) from retreat

Some bits and pieces from retreat. I drove three other women and a van full of extra stuff required for the days away. As we drove upwards, it began first to rain, then snow. When we arrived, we were faced with a winter wonderland.

After living in snow-country for four years, I've decided that snow is beautiful, if you don't have to live (or drive) in it! "First" snows are particularly beautiful - purifying Japan's otherwise drab grey-brown-black winter landscape.

I went for a short walk during our free time on Thursday afternoon. There is a pond nearby that is gorgeous in every other season. Winter is not it's most beautiful season, but it was nice to get out in the fresh country air. 

I particularly enjoyed the feeling of snow crunching under my feet. That brings back memories from winters in Hokkaido during our first term as missionaries. I tried to figure out why it was enjoyable - because memories of that time in my life aren't all that fun, but I think it might just be that I enjoy the feeling of the crunchy snow, there really is little else like it. But it is good to think back to those times of struggle and see how far I've come, by the grace of God, since then. It was one thing our speaker spoke about - remembering the struggles and instead of comparing ourselves to others, compare ourselves now to ourselves then.

My snow boots - I still have them from Hokkaido days. See the cool hinged piece in the heel that enables you to have ordinary boots one second and instant grip on icy ground the next.

Jane's also tall - 10 inches taller than me.

Our speaker, Jane Rubietta, was again a delight. I never expected I'd get two opportunities to hear her speak. She spoke at the same retreat three years ago when I was last there. What particularly delights me about Jane is that she is not only humorous, she is very honest about her own failures and struggles. Amazing transparency in speaker. She urges those listening (or reading - when you read her books) to dare to be honest about our own struggles and move closer to Jesus, who loves us despite our imperfections.

Renee, one of our worship leaders working hard.

Then the joy of worshipping in English. I didn't get a photo of them in action because I was crying too much. I also didn't want to pull away from the awesome privilege of worshipping in my heart language. I did get a photo of one of the two sisters who led us in worship - but not as she sang, but as she attached some of the longer retreat decorations to the roof of our van for our trip home.

Another precious thing I bring home from the retreat, I mentioned on Thursday - the deep conversations with other women. Not too much time wasted on small talk.

All in all, a balm to my soul. After an emotional couple of months to start the year, I feel as though I've been fed and watered. I feel as though I can see a way forward, in more than just the daily list of "things to do" but the way to "be", how God is leading me, how He wants me to grow. Lots to think about and process, but a peaceful, satisfied feeling is brimming up from my soul.

Interesting discussion of openness and honesty

Some interesting discussion on my Facebook page regarding my recent posts on communication. I thought it was worth copying some of the comments onto here:

L wrote:

I was just thinking about openness and honesty yesterday and thinking that they are different things. People are sometimes not necessarily open but that doesn't mean they are dishonest, it just means their personality doesn't lend itself to openness and I don't consider that sinful. Of course some people are both not open and dishonest and some can be open and dishonest too. 

An example: You've mentioned before that you tend to give TMI when describing illness - that's being very open. Some would be horrified at describing their illness in that detail and wouldn't be very open beyond 'I have a stomach upset'. They are not being dishonest, just not laying everything out for the whole world to view. I don't think that's wrong, it's just their personality. People vary with how much of their personal life they want to share with others. It's not that they want to hide anything - it's just personal. I remember being gobsmacked once when, as a single woman, I was in a group of Christian women who were talking in detail about their relationship with their husbands. It obviously didn't bother them, but I certainly couldn't do that. I'm just musing here...what do you think?

K wrote:

Yes, we all can give TMI at some times, but I do think that most relationships have a better chance of surviving well if the communication is open and honest!

I wrote:

K - you are quite right. Relationships depend on good communication and that can only be good if there is an element of openness in it. A relationship where one person or both are stonewalling the other's attempts to get to know them will not last long or go deep.

L - I'm thinking. But you are quite right, openness and honesty are different. And being open for one person is different to another person. Though I think, that everyone, no matter what their personality or situation (for example ministry wives find this a hard issue in their congregations), should have at least a small number of people with whom they can share fairly openly with. I love the quote that I shared in a post back in October:

"As I tell the truth about our journey with our son, instead of hiding it like a secret, I've discovered a new kind of freedom. One woman in my Bible study said, "Carol, I used to think you were perfect, but now I think we could be friends." Carol Kent, Just Between Us, Fall 2010.

I'm not sure the issue is whether she was dishonest or honest before sharing this secret, but the issue is that once she did share it, it enriched her relationships. 

I love it when we can discuss things like this. None of the above three people are in the same country as each other, it's amazing that we can have this discussion at all!

Finding balance in communication

Simone has written a good post here about the necessity of editing our sharing in response to my post about openness and authenticity.

I agree with her. We do not need to share everything we think - actually it is impossible to do that. We think at a rate of something like 150-300 words a minute - all day long. It is also wrong to share everything, how many proverbs are there that talk about wisdom in relation to holding your tongue?

I also think it is fairly easy to point out when people are oversharing. It is not so easy to point out when people are undersharing. When people, for whatever reason, are holding back from sharing things about their lives which would help others, encourage them. We're looking at two extremes and, like most things, God hasn't given us an easy line to judge what is too much or too little. It also varies for different personalities and situations. We need much wisdom to decide what is suitable for each situation, for each friendship for each topic. 

In my commitment to openness and authenticity in my relationships I need to be on my knees every day, confessing my errors and asking for wisdom for the next day. But I think all Christians need to be on our knees, asking God for wisdom in our relationships and conversations. Asking for guidance to know what to share and when, for sensitivity and discernment, but also for boldness.

I believe in openness and authenticity

I've just gone back and found blog posts where I've written about honesty, about open and authentic relationships and conversations. It's been a fun search. I found some great memories from Australia here and spoke forthrightly about my commitment to openness here. I found a post about the cost of not being open and this one about honesty in writing prayer letters.

I'm committed to openness, but it can cost. I'm suffering that now. Someone has taken it upon themselves to criticise my openness. That hurts deeply because it is something that is close to my heart. I believe being open and authentic is something God has called me to do. Actually I'd love to see all Christians committed to it. Pray with me that I won't be fearful and discouraged by this.

The penny dropped

Well, maybe the yen dropped. I connected two things I knew about Japan today as I had lunch with friends who've supported us for a long time and just recently went to Japan. They said - as most short-term visitors do - that "Japan was a wonderful place. And that if they hadn't heard about the many difficulties (like suicide, mental health issues etc.) from us, they would never have known."

It occurred to me that Japanese are all about presentation - making it look good. They do this with food, with shops, with relationships, and, obviously with tourism too. It is a clean, efficient, polite country. Perfect for tourists.

It just annoys long-termers like us, when people breeze in and out of the country and rave about it, but see only the good stuff. We, who see the difficulties, the two-faced-ness and the inefficiencies. The desperation, sadness and loneliness. Who get tired of the politeness and want true friendship.

But now I know why - the Japanese have done their usual trick of putting on a good "outside face" and beguiled the tourists.

Makeup?

I've picked up the book, "Everybody's Normal Till You Get to Know Them" by John Ortberg. There are many good things in the book, including a call to authenticity amongst community, which is something that I find sadly lacking in the Australian church. But when I read the following, I wondered if, actually, we weren't as bad with authenticity as some other cultures: "One of the defining moments in any dating relationship is the first time the man sees the woman without makeup...You don't want to let a guy look at your actual, unadorned face." p76 My husband-to-be rarely saw me WITH makeup! I guess that should make me feel good about my actual, unadorned face. I personally would say that one of the defining moments in a dating relationship is when one becomes sick. Actually my husband and I went on a short-term mission trip to Indonesia a long time before we dated, so we both saw the other in less-than-perfect circumstances for several weeks. Certainly with unadorned faces. But once we were dating, I went to visit him while he was leading a beach mission and, during the night, came down with food poisoning. It wasn't anything either of us had cooked (although that happened during our dating time too). It was a situation, though, that put me on my back for a while and certainly didn't give my later-to-be-husband any illusions about what I looked like without my "presentable mask" on.