Come as you are, See me as I am

February 23, 2017February 23, 2017 raphaela997 Comments

My daughter’s Godfather is Reverend Bill Crews, an icon in Sydney, admired for The Exodus Foundation and The Bill Crews Charitable Trust. At the end of a service at the Uniting Church in Ashfield, we all hold hands, forming a circle. In part, he says the following “come, come as you are… This is not the door of hopelessness. It doesn’t matter what age you are, what sex you are, who you are or what you’ve done.” We all feel it. A bunch of eccentrics, poets, misfits and empaths, we feel that we can indeed come as we are. The ego is a silly thing, misguided and sometimes seeing to it that we neglect opportunities. Neglected, because at that particular time, we don’t feel 100%…Our house is a mess, we lack the funds to put on a fancy spread for dinner, we need a haircut or we feel we need to present better before having people over… I didn’t think I had allowed my ego to misguide me, but I certainly had! I have planned dinners in my head, and am waiting for the perfect opportunity. I have planned to have people over, then neglected to actually invite them! I look back and in all honesty, perfect gatherings were unscripted. I have drunk cheap wine out of jam jars, and had a drizzle of olive oil on bread with friends by candlelight, vying for space amongst magazines and cushions. Those nights were sublime and unforgettable.

I have a problem with my right foot (where nerve damage has occurred from my spinal injuries), and am having surgery next week. In spite of this, each day I have showered, done my hair and put fresh clothes on. I have cleaned my home, and put everything in its place. Last weekend, the pain got the best of me, and I had heavy-duty painkillers and put myself to bed, where I stayed. Sunday, I was surrounded by empty bottles of water, clothes and medicines strewn all over the floor, the Sunday papers covering the bed. I was still in my pajamas, and looked a sight with unbrushed hair and teeth. Of course, this was the day that a friend I haven’t seen in ages came for an impromptu visit. She didn’t bat an eyelid at the chaos; rather she got herself a chair and sat by my bedside. I didn’t feel self-conscious; she had come as she was, and so had I! It actually felt good, to visually demonstrate the chaos that was happening within. I felt authentic, un-judged and valued. She not only tread through the detritus when my mask fell, she also gifted me this magnificent umbrella!

Apparently, it had spoken to her at the shops, and she knew she had to buy it for me! We avoided niceties, delving into the deepest parts of our lives and the society in which we live. My friend gifted me a reminder to stop the avoidance of extending invitations to people because my life/house isn’t perfect that day/week. No life, house or veneer ever is, and those whom love you don’t give a flying fig about any of that. They will step over the clothes strewn on the floor to reach you. Come as you are.

Parades and Time

November 22, 2016November 22, 2016 raphaela992 Comments

I am behind on finishing my next book, behind on finishing scheduled articles and behind on my blog. I was anxious about all this, until I remembered that everything has a season. Term 4 has been jam-packed with activities, all of them joyous, though time-consuming. I wake at 5am, and get into the day. The Lyrica I take twice daily (as well as other meds for pain), see me crawl into bed by 8pm most nights. By the time the homeschooling activities are done, there is just enough time for dinner and preparing for the next day. My daughter is a bundle of energy, and when I put it to her that if we worked hard this term, we may be able to finish a little earlier, she readily agreed! Another two weeks, and we shall be done. We will have time to explore, to see friends and rest. Oh, and I shall have time to write regularly!

There have been trips to the theatre, parks and beaches. We went to Sculptures by the Sea, which was fantastic.

We took part in a parade, my daughter as a Scottish warrior, resplendant with a sword, and I as some sort of wench! We had a ball, and as I watched my daughter and her friends brandish their swords, I felt pride.

We made scores of felt angels and lavender balm for a home school market, have been to numerous workshops and traveled far and wide. The days have been busy, though good. Summer is almost here, and it is time for a break. My daughter will still be learning as she plays and writes scripts with her friends, summons up new songs to sing and performs science experiments at home. Every life has a season, and now is the time of writing.

When it gets overwhelming…

October 27, 2016 raphaela999 Comments

I had been feeling better in myself than I had in a long time. Even though I was still in immense pain, I felt able to cope. I was exercising daily in order to maintain my bones, and was eating food which nourished me and provided energy. Then, a trial started. It only took one look at the young woman’s radiant smile, and my heart shattered. It was all over the media, and as I learnt of the case, I thought surely the man involved would be punished. The events ended with her being locked on his balcony, and tragically falling to her death.

Of a night, I dreamed of this young woman. She appeared holding a falcon. Sometimes, I woke up crying. I know how it feels to be held against your will. I know how it feels to be outside on a balcony. I know how it feels to free-fall through the sky to earth, and I know what it feels to hit the ground and the terror beforehand. My life was spared by a series of fortunate events. It feels as though I have a duty to live for all the wounded angels who have soared through the air and haven’t survived. To go to new places, talk to new people, embrace life and try new things. Complacency won’t cut it.

The verdict came through as a newsflash, when my daughter and I were watching Ghostbusters on her IPad. The television was on mute, but I studied the screen and saw ‘Not Guilty’ flashed across the bottom. My daughter was holding my hand in case I got scared by the movie. I was terrified, though not for the reasons she thought. As I held her soft warm hand, I silently apologized to her. I apologized that we haven’t come as far as I had hoped. Each guilty verdict that is read helps to heal some of the pain of the past. It is an acknowledgement that it should never have happened, it was wrong and the justice system gives a damn. I recall watching my perpetrator shake his lawyer’s hand and smirk as he walked by at my committal hearing. I watched her perpetrator on television look up to the heavens and sigh, (as if heaven had anything to do with his release).

My mind in overdrive, and my heart heavy, I felt my adrenaline ramping up. I couldn’t sit still. I had an overwhelming urge to go shopping for my daughter. She needed new shorts, immediately! I couldn’t banish creatures such as this from the world, but damn it, I could get her shorts. I had that power! Off we went, my mind in a trance. Snatching up clothes, I smiled as I realized she also needed new sandals. She keeps growing, and will soon surpass her very short mum. As she smiled at me, my heart felt heavy. I want to keep her safe forever. I hope that I am laying the groundwork in these years for her to become a confident, assertive young woman. I walked dazedly past friends, unable to stop and chat. I had no energy, even whilst my body was soaked in adrenaline, coursing through every atom. There was loneliness in being unable to articulate how I felt. I know what this young woman’s family would have thought as they left the trial. I bought a bottle of red wine, and a text came through. It was my daughter’s singing teacher, asking if we were coming to class. I had forgotten all about it. I sat and messaged back, apologizing. She was lovely, and sent a smiley face, bless her.

I am so sorry justice wasn’t served. I am so sorry your family are suffering. I am so sorry you didn’t survive and go on to have the life meant for you. I am so sorry men like him are out in the world, on the prowl. I am sorry that narcissists exist. My daughter held a little fashion parade when we got home. “I love them, mummy,”she smiled. “That’s good darling,” I replied. I drank my wine and had no sleep whatsoever. PTSD seems to be a clumsy dance, propelling you forward, then back. I looked at my slumbering daughter, vowing to make the next eight years count. Vowing to build her up so she will have the power to judge a scoundrel when she encounters one.

I survived by a series of miracles, and as I run around like a mad thing of a day, I always give thanks. I vow to live for these voiceless angels as well.

Pressure

September 5, 2016 raphaela9912 Comments

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I have been suffering the worst anxiety of my adult life; well, since I had IVF at least. The kind that makes you wake in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking. The ferocity of which makes you heave and feel as if you can’t catch your breath. I am entirely responsible for my child’s education; that alone is a lot of responsibility. I am trying to look after an adult with a mental illness that is unpredictable. I am trying to keep a household going, pay bills, and keep a grin on my face. I am preparing to see specialists and have necessary medical tests; attempting to scrape together the money to do so. Society regularly tells mothers that we are responsible for our health; that if a parent goes under, everything falls apart. I have been trying, I really have, to not go under. To ensure that my daughter is happy and secure. To not fail in my sworn mission to make everything okay with everyone I love. Oh, also to complete a book this year.

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This year has pummeled me, the marks of which I acknowledge in the rare moments I have to sit and reflect. I knew the anxiety was turning into a monster by the following:

I had two panic attacks in as many days. I couldn’t work a door handle to exit a building, and the other when a lavatory door got stuck. I went straight into full panic, and passers-by had to calm me.

Feeling disengaged from life. Having a list of things to do, but not having any idea as to how to do them.

A pounding head all day, every day, and a terror of everything that once provided comfort. Social outings and social media, phones and emails procured extreme anxiety.

Forgetting to eat, to sleep, to stop moving and sit quietly.

I called Lifeline, and tearfully relayed the events which had transpired to heighten my symptoms. The counselor was marvelous, and said they weren’t at all surprised that I was finding the going tough. When everything is all up to you, it can be anxiety-producing! I made contact with a counselor, whom I am going to see for a while, and I also saw my local GP. I am going to start medication, until I have a handle on the anxiety. It is not something I can do by myself, and goodness knows, I have tried. My brain feels as though it has forgotten how to relax and is ticking away 24/7. I am sure many can relate. Chronic pain is exhausting. Being a carer is exhausting. Having high expectations of yourself is exhausting.

It took a lot for me to admit that I couldn’t cope; that I was in trouble. Relaxation and walks, chamomile tea and lavender oil are lovely adjuncts but weren’t offering a complete solution to such extreme anxiety. Spring is now here, and help is at hand. It is a matter of resetting a brain that has spun out of control. It is a matter of calming it down and soothing the tempest. I will still be responsible for an awful lot in life; that isn’t going to change. However, I will have the foundation required to cope with it all. One short woman alone.

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I saw the doctor and she agreed that I needed some help. I have started on a mild dose of medication and my mind already feels clearer. If you are suffering, please know that you aren’t alone.

Wise and compassionate words

August 17, 2016August 18, 2016 raphaela9911 Comments

My friend wrote an articulate and heartfelt response to the following:

‘You know what? No! Just no! I’m sick of this sentimental BS being shared around FB and people thinking it’s true. I have been through, and had many friends go through, serious life changes. I have had friends battling ongoing or chronic health problems and are just too physically weak to even handle the thought of a coffee (yes even with close friends). I’ve had friends that use every ounce of energy they have just to get through their day as they have serious challenges with their partner and/or kids (probably worse than you’re imagining cause they’re doing their best to try and keep it a secret too). I’ve had friends battling mental health issues where getting out of bed and getting dressed is a huge accomplishment for the day (again the stigma attached to that one only makes them want to hide it and if you haven’t been there then you just won’t get it so don’t even start to preach at them how they need to think positive etc).
So screw this sentiment! If your friend doesn’t have time for you for 6 months, suck it up, cause the pain/hell they are going thru that they don’t even have the time/energy for their friends, is more than you’re going through by not seeing them. Rather than adding a guilt trip to their situation just msg them some encouragement and remind them you love them and are there if and when they need. Don’t take it personal, it isn’t about you and making it about you just makes it worse.
So once again, just to make sure you really get this – no! Just no! This is crap.’

The above is full of compassion and empathy. I am still learning how to be assertive, and on occasion, have had the following happen. A text, asking when I may be free. If I am out each day, I will relay that in a couple of weeks my schedule shall be more open. I then receive more texts, which I don’t have the opportunity the read. This has been followed with emails and messages on Facebook. When I go in to see what I have to reply to, there are scores of messages, which I have neither the time nor energy to answer. I have offered by way of explanation, that my spine has deteriorated, I am in constant, merciless pain, and by the time I arrive home (after travelling up to four hours), all I can do is crawl into bed. I assure them that I shall be in touch in a week or so, and am looking forward to catching up. More messages ensue, (usually involving guilt trips, attempting to shame), at which point I am almost in tears. It is an energy drain at a time when you can’t afford to leak! I have racked my brain, trying to see when I have five minutes to make contact. It has inevitably seeped into precious rest time, or time when I had necessary things to do to keep my life running smoothly. I have found that it isn’t appreciated by these kinds of people. They demand another commitment before the present catch-up is over.

This happened to me regularly, and added to the load, when I was simply trying to get through the days. Every life has it’s seasons; a person’s days have delicious, empty space and then gets crammed with more activity and stress than one can handle. Kindness toward another is being accepting of it. I have long-standing friends whom I haven’t seen all year. When we do catch up, it is as though no time has passed. They don’t question my love for them, nor do I their’s. We both know that if we needed anything, we would move planets to support each other. My friend’s response to memes such as that above is filled with wisdom.

Flower Markets, Pie shops and Friendship

August 8, 2016August 11, 2016 raphaela99Leave a comment

Some time back, I went through a hellish week. I hadn’t endured such concentrated crap for quite a while. Unpleasant people from the past tried to sneak back into my atmosphere via social media, money that I was assured would be there to pay essential bills wasn’t, and I was devastated by other events beyond my control. “What on earth is this?” I shrieked, to nobody in particular. “I’m a good person!” The week before, I had been blissfully unaware of the universal dump that was about to be bestowed on me. I wasn’t at all prepared. The thing with trying times, is that they are often beyond our control, but not our capabilities, despite stretching us to our limits.

I knew that I was in strife when I couldn’t stop my arms from trembling, and my hands from shaking. I lost my appetite and three kilograms in a weekend. I was exhausted and longed to rest my thumping head. I was on the loo constantly, my digestive system unable to cope with the stress. My heart felt as though it was leaping out of my chest, and I felt numb; disassociated from what was occurring. All the above were symptomatic of the massive adrenaline rush I was enduring. I couldn’t articulate what I was going through, and so I retreated. I didn’t want to burden anybody, anyway. I longed to disappear. I couldn’t see a way out of the situation I was facing. I felt I had let my daughter down, even though events had been out of my control.

There was a little tap at my door. A friend had been working around the corner and had called in to see me. My eyes were rimmed red from crying and sleep deprivation. Upon seeing me, she held me close, then took me for a drive. We stopped at a pie shop off the beaten track, and I ordered a vegetable pie. They began to make our pies, and we were shown to a round table, the linen tablecloth and colored serviettes adding warmth to a chilly day. There were flowers on each table,nestled in bright vases, and we enjoyed the best pies of our lives. The pastry was flaky, and the filling had just the right amount of seasoning. Afterward, my friend took me to a flower market. We were allowed in the cool rooms, and admired the floral displays. My daughter was asked if she wanted to pick out some flowers to take home with her, and her little face lit up. The dear lady who was running the farm even let us look out the back to see where the gerberas were growing in massive irrigated sheds. Watching my daughter play with the little dog on the farm, I felt the oppression of the past week loosen. The lady at the flower market was gracious to this stranger, and I am sure she could sense that I was fragile on this day. As for my friend, well, she did more for me than she will ever know. She enabled me to escape my own mind, gifting me temporary reprieve.

The next 24 hours, saw two other good friends call in, and I cried some more as I relayed the impossible situation I faced. What they gave me in terms of support, love and compassion outweighs anything I could calculate. They are indeed my sisters, and they effectively pulled me back from the abyss, and helped me seek ways to continue on. You can feel overwhelmed when a friend is facing a crisis, particularly when lacking funds, time or the health to physically assist.Let me assure you, that real friends understand all that. I equally treasure the cup of tea I was made, a friend opening her house to me, the phone call I received and the heartfelt messages I was gifted. Just knowing that you aren’t alone is enough to sustain you, and bring you clarity. Each and every kindness shall be recalled and valued always.

I still haven’t any resolutions to long-standing burdens, but at least I have a list of steps I can take, right here and now. I feel a little more empowered, and certainly stronger than I did throughout that horrific weekend. It all started with a country drive, a quaint pie shop and a flower market.

Anniversaries and the Helpmann Awards

July 26, 2016July 26, 2016 raphaela99Leave a comment

It was as much my daughter’s day as it was mine. A day of remembrance. To contemplate what was taken and what has in turn been bestowed. She has had her life altered as a result of that July 25th long ago. This term, I can’t commit to taking her to drama classes in the city, as I have to attend to this chronic pain once and for all, and have viable pain management strategies in place. She doesn’t complain when I can’t take her out, nor does she wonder why I fall silent on the way home after a long day. She comforts me when she sees the mask fall and views the agony in my face. I haven’t been able to do all that I want with my daughter as money has gone on maintaining my health. I can’t run like other mothers, nor skate or ride horses with her. Her life has been shaped in so many ways by what happened to me. I didn’t tell her the date’s relevance, yet she knew it was a big, important date.

Being a ham, she had to strut into a bank through its turning doors, pretending to be a banker. To the mirth of the employees, she shouted, “this isn’t my jam!” and ran out. She then discovered this chess set, and was annoyed that a King was overtaking the others. She sought to rectify things.

We took pictures at Wildlife World. You can tell I wasn’t ready!

We spent the afternoon hanging out, having fun. I have learnt that it does no good to not acknowledge the memories, nor try to have an ordinary day on the anniversary. What I needed was to see beauty; to be pulled out of my own mind. It helped!

As we left home at noon, I was flooded by intense gratitude. All those years ago, I would have given anything for what I was able to do this particular morning. Wake in a comfy bed in a secure home, then shower and dress. Have a nutritious breakfast and a pitcher of water. To look forward to the day. All the things you take for granted… As dusk fell over the city, winter began to bite, and I felt the cells in my body grow anxious. Dusk was when the final torment began. We walked to the Lyric Theatre, and stood enjoying the celebrities walk the red carpet, my daughter eating a croissant. I lovingly brushed the pastry flakes from her hair, and tried to avoid embarrassing her by crying out of sheer and giddy joy.

The award show surpassed all expectation. It was thrilling to see Matilda receive thirteen awards. The Australian Theatre for Young People won an award for the sublime Sugarland. Supporting the Arts is incredibly important. It takes us out of the everyday, into a world of unequal splendor. It is no coincidence that musicals hit the height of their popularity during the Great Depression and wartime. We need to transcend the drudgery once in a while. We need the Arts to give us different perspectives and to provide commentary on the times we live in. Griffin Theatre’s The Bleeding Tree won Best Play, and when accepting the award, it was hoped that the piece about domestic violence would be viewed in the future with a shaking of the head, and the utterance of “this is how it was back then.”

When Bangarra Dance Theatre’s Artistic Director, Stephen Page was honoured the JC Williamson Award, his speech left us spellbound. There were magical performances from musicians, musicals and dance companies. Water escaped my eyes and I gave thanks that I got to see this night of celebration, and as I slumbered that evening, July 26th rolled around without fan fair. I also got to see the dawn. The evening reinforced that we must tell our stories, not only for our own sake, but for everyone’s. I look forward to somebody in the future stumbling across my work and saying ‘things were different back then! Thank goodness we live in better times.’ Times when perfect storms in a young person’s life are abated, before they are consumed by a wave. We are on our way. No more secrets, nor hiding of abuse.

If you have a painful anniversary coming up, I would advise you to acknowledge it. Write about it, or create art around it. Plan a special day with loved ones who get it. If that’s not possible, then go out by yourself. Eat and drink delicious things. View beautiful things. Talk to strangers. Whatever you do, don’t curl up alone with the memories. In my view, such a day has to be tempered by art; it’s potency diluted by loveliness.

25th July- The Magic and Mystery of Numbers

July 24, 2016July 24, 2016 raphaela995 Comments

I thought I was going to die on July 25th. It was not a destined date, rather a number shooting forth like a musical note from a crazed fiddle player. I was held against my will in a number seven apartment, on a number seven street. I fell at seven pm on the seventh day of the seventh hour on a date adding up to seven. I was in a new cycle of seven, according to numerology. I wasn’t at sixes and sevens’ only sevens! Out of curiosity, I investigated and believe that it must have meaning.

The other day, I visited a friend’s cafe and opened a delightful magazine, called Happinez. Can you believe, they had a story on July 25th? It is termed an Out of Time day. The old year ends the day before and the new year begins the day afterward. The Sun and Sirius are aligned on July 25th, which is why the date has relevance. Google it!

As much as I find all this research into the significance of numbers fascinating, July 25th also brings up memories. It is winter in Australia, and the nights can be bitterly cold. I recall I was dressed in white trousers and jumper. I never dress in white, and wonder why I had on this particular evening. Everything seemed to happen so quickly. Being jostled up the stairwell, trying to talk him down. Being choked into unconsciousness. The fall. The fall seemed to defy time as I understood it. Waking on the ground and having him attempt to finish me off.

Every year a feeling of discontent rises in me, particularly since I have become a parent. You see everything differently, including your own trauma. Memories re-emerge as winter chills my bones. The hand-woven blanket I had shaken to refresh, has now been pulled close to my body, cocooning me. Normally, I would retreat on July 25th. I have always felt the need to mark it in some manner. I have been back to the site, and left flowers. I have written that young girl poetry. I light candles and give thanks that I am here. I have been to dinners with my daughter and danced in celebration of having survived.

He brought me to that dark building with the intention of killing me. He had decided that I would not see July 26th. A cacophony of emotions rattle inside my soul. I need to hold the numinous creature I birthed close, and give thanks. I am so grateful that I got to grow up. I feel despair, rage and everything in between. So many surgeries. Hundreds of hours of physical therapy, body braces and casts, wheelchairs and Intensive Care Units. A lifetime of physical pain. Weakened lungs and renal system. A small fortune in medical bills. This is the legacy.

It is also a day of defiance. It may have been marked as the day I would die, at all of fifteen years of age, but I still got to decide the lightness of my being. I look back and am amazed at how brave I was. I was cheeky, with a serving of bravado on the side. He couldn’t take the ‘Raphiness’ out of me.

I was online recently, and saw tickets for the Helpmann Awards, Australia’s night to honor standouts in theatre. I promptly got tickets for my daughter and I. Tonight, as the clock strikes seven pm, I will remember the girl who fell. I will be celebrating theatre of another kind, the little girl from my dreams by my side.

Back Pain Sometimes isn’t Transient

July 17, 2016 raphaela9916 Comments

My first surgeon informed me that I would be left in agony, over twenty years ago. Sitting would apparently cause me to weep after an hour, as would standing. Pretty much anything other than laying down would bring me to my knees. Sharp shards of bone, as well as metal artifacts are piercing into my spinal canal, causing a 50% reduction in the vital space. Despite this, I managed a pregnancy, and raising my daughter. I have traveled and have a demanding schedule every day. That surgeon was right; it does bring me to my knees.

I had to do a grocery shop the other day, and found my spine seizing up. There I was, draped over my trolley, groaning. My daughter didn’t bat an eyelid. She just asked what we needed and went to get it. She then loaded the bags into the trolley after I paid. I crawled into bed, and she made me toast for dinner. I lay there for fourteen hours, until I became concerned about the load on my kidneys and knew I had to catheterize.

The next morning was comical. I have a portable TENS Machine, which has proven to be gold. To my dismay, I couldn’t find it! I was rummaging through every drawer in the house in desperation. I finally sourced it, only to find the battery was dead! I could have cried. We had to go down the street to get a new battery. I had applied heat to my back, and a magical ointment, taken three different medications and put on my back brace before leaving home.

These are the things I adore. They make a real difference in my life. I have spent an obscene amount of money on things which have promised to relieve my back pain. I have done the magnets and fancy exercise equipment, the oils and potions. The tools below actually help. The degree to which they assist, depends on the day and the obscenity of the pain.

A blessing in a hot bath at night.

This was recommended to me by a scientist friend after I fell over and broke my back again six years ago. It can even be used on fracture sites.

My portable TENS machine is my saving grace when out and about.

Heat Pack. Needed throughout all the seasons!

I sometimes relay the severity of the pain and aftermath to people. I want to convey that I am not avoiding anyone, nor have I been in the space to answer messages, etc. It does irritate when people say that they hope I feel better soon. Honey, I am not going to feel better soon! I have pieces of bone and metal, similar to knife blades, sticking into my spinal canal! My fused spine is disintegrating, as are the grafts. It isn’t going to get better. I have accepted that. May I ask that you love me instead. Come over and have a cup of tea with me. Pour me a wine and commiserate. I don’t have a cold, which can be overcome.

I almost kissed the lady in our local bargain store, who upon viewing the little battery from my TENS machine, assured me they had one in stock. The relief! So I continue, as we all do. Broken yet somehow whole. Small and yet ever so tall.

Retreat and Refreshment.

July 11, 2016 raphaela9912 Comments

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This was me at the end of term 2. I was hanging out for the school holidays, longing for days at home. The last week of term, I was in the city five times for workshops, shows and other commitments. It is a journey of almost two hours each way. I would curl up in the shower each morning, allowing the heat to wash over my spine, willing myself to get going. When you are in that level of pain, you operate on automatic pilot. The promise of a two week break got me through. We have been for walks through our beautiful town, and have had plenty of home days. It has been bliss.

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Getting the house in order and planning for Term 3 has been wonderful. Resting when I need to, and playing with my daughter has been a treat. Life gets so busy; too busy. There needs to be retreat as well. I don’t know how anybody with a massive amount of daily pain does it. I certainly don’t know I get through! I do it because I have to. I am grateful that I still can.

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This is sometimes where I find myself. I have to rest, and connect with my daughter. I need to lay flat, as it’s the only way I find relief from the relentless pain. It is frustrating when there are so many marvelous things going on, and so many special friends to see. Those closest to my heart are those whom understand and patiently await our return to society. I appreciate them with all my being. No pressure, just love. I am starting to let go of feeling bad if I have to have a day in bed to recover.

These are indeed the best moments; the pockets of time where we can heal and grow strong. On my walks, I have been able to appreciate the sound of the bell birds and kookaburras, the sight of llamas, horses and cows, and the pleasantries exchanged. I have caught up with friends I haven’t seen for well over a year, and it is as though no time has passed. We pick up where we left off, and there is nothing but love. I will keep going on this strange and wonderful journey, and during term, whirl around from event to event. In the holidays, I will continue to retreat into the mists, emerging refreshed. It is how it has to be.