Community.

October 24, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela994 Comments

My little girl’s friend needed to go to the Children’s Hospital for some tests, and my daughter knew she would be a bit scared. I agreed to let her go too, for moral support. It is such a confronting place. Essential items like toothbrushes are sold in vending machines, for parents who had no idea their mad dash to emergency would end up stretching out to a long-term stay. We saw a princess in a wheelchair, her sparkly hair accessories setting off the glint in her eyes. She was escorted by her mum and grandmother, and they smiled and made small-talk because the other options weren’t appealing. They had probably cried themselves dry. Our little friend endured her tests with bravery, and we planned to take the girls for a treat. My daughter held a hand to head, complaining that it hurt. By the time we got to the café, she looked pale and uncomfortable. My friend drove us home, and my daughter went downhill. Scooping her up, we took her to our nearest hospital. By then she couldn’t tolerate light, and vomited violently. We were put in the children’s room to await the doctor. When kid’s get sick, it often comes on swiftly, catching you by surprise.

My friend Vicki, who works in food services, came by and chatted for a while, making the wait less lonely. Another friend, Lisa, who works as a nurse at the hospital, heard that Lizzie was there, and stopped in too. Their wishes of healing and the soothing words they spoke, helped my little girl. The doctor thought it may be a migraine. We were allowed home after a few hours, and as my daughter rested, I answered messages from friends enquiring about her, and those who wanted to know if they could sit with us at the hospital.

My washing machine stopped working, and the next day I had friends at my door asking if they could do a load for me. I had many enquiries online too, and accepted an offer of a second-hand machine. My friend Gabby, came by with a parcel of goods for Lizzie. She sat up in bed and looked through the bag with great joy. “Aren’t people kind, mummy?” “Yes, they are,” I smiled. She has severe tonsillitis, so is still at home with me. I am humbled at the love my community shows one another. If someone is ill, they are there. It’s a circle of kindness that goes around, without end. It is a risk to let love in, after disappointment and pain. If you do let love in, and accept offers of kindness, it can heal the gaping wound, sealing it without need for sutures. I am so grateful to our beautiful community, sitting on the edge of Sydney, where pastoral scenes resplendent with horses, vineyards and a river still exist.

Anastasia Amour

October 22, 2014 raphaela992 Comments

Anastasia Amour (pseudonym Stardust), sent me a little package of affirmative stickers. My daughter was very excited when I said Stardust had sent us a gift. Her little face fell when she searched the empty envelope. “Where is the stardust?” she pouted. I told her it was invisible, imbued on the stickers.

Words have such power. You know, these days its cool to be disaffected and sarcastic, caustic and negative. Its easy to cut the groove in the rotating vinyl record inside your head. Doing Anastasia’s ProjectPositive changed my world. I felt connected to a vibrant group of people doing life, endeavouring to work out the snags. I learnt that I am worthy of love just as I am. I examined what beauty and self-love actually is, and what it isn’t. I was humbled and my self-talk was certainly transformed. Not only are her sticker’s embedded with Stardust, but Anastasia is as well. www.anastasiaamour.com

It’s a Wonderful Life (with a touch of melancholy thrown in).

October 17, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela996 Comments

I have been hit by melancholy, a low-grade depression. It has been skulking up on me, playing the old and tired game of shadowing. I feel a tap on my shoulder, turn around, and find nothing. It walks so closely that it mimics my moves. It starts with feeling overwhelmed. Seeing what needs to be done, but with no idea where to start or how to fit it all into a day. More caffeine is drank, and less sleep is had. My hands shake. I worry if I am loved, if I do enough, if I am enough. I look for assurance and guarantees. The fragility builds upon itself, like particles of sand atop each other. Seemingly compact, though at risk of caving in at any moment. So many changes shall be taking place next year, and my child will need me to strong. She will also need to see tears and vulnerability. She needs me to show her how to do feelings. Perhaps that is one of the issues. We almost become disassociated shells as we go about our day. Never checking in with our minds and hearts, perusing our to-do lists. It’s funny what you let slide when melancholy hits. You cease to exercise, eat regularly, drink water, take your tonics, meditate, stop. You cease to contact friends and plan adventures. All the stuff you actually require. I know what my triggers are, and I know what to do to feel better.

A very brave friend has shown me you are allowed to say when you need to retreat, and bow out on a particular day. After all, you have some inner filing to sort. She also showed me how to reach out in a meaningful way, to suggest a dinner or movie. She showed me how to make overtures of friendship without fear of rejection. She is doing some major work, eating well and taking time for herself. She is glowing. I want to glow too. I first heard the song, It’s a Wonderful Life by Black a week before I was abducted. I loved the melancholic overtone running through the hope in the undertone. They created the perfect song with the perfect video clip. It is a wonderful life… I really am of an age where experience has shown me that melancholy doesn’t jump me in a dark alley. Events and comments and the world and the news shadow us all, and we need to consistently dive into our tool kit. I just enquired of myself what might be needed this afternoon. I am going to make a pot of green tea, a salad wrap, sit outside for five minutes, and eat freshly baked lavender scones this afternoon. That is what I shall do.

Camping.

October 6, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

P1090151 — In our tent, a little alert and alarmed!

Little miss and I were invited to spend the long weekend camping with friends. As a child, I joined the GFS (Girls Friendly Society). I didn’t last long. Those chicks participated in sedentary activities, mostly indoors. I quit, and enlisted in CEBS (Church of England Boys Society). There was concern about having a girl along at the camp’s, but they couldn’t find an actual rule that forbade my becoming involved. The boys were mostly wounded soldiers, involved in familial wars via conscription. One young boy came from such a fractious family that they were featured on 60 Minutes. We were comrades. From nine years of age through to adolescence, I would join the boys on camps. We camped in the Australian outback, didn’t wash for a week and dug our own toilets. I would pitch my little tent besides the boy’s large canopy shelter, and raid the supply tent in the middle of the night. After my back was snapped, I never went on another camp.

I tossed up my friend’s invitation, and was indecisive for a while. I was concerned about my spine. Would I be so crippled with pain that I wouldn’t be able to move? There wouldn’t be reception where we were headed. There are other health issues going on, that need attending to in the next few weeks. I felt anxiety about being away from my comforts, and wondered how I would cope. I was surprised that the idea of going bush conjured up so much fear, where it once provided such joy. The deciding factor’s were the people I was going to join, and the enthusiasm of my little girl. My friends would look out for us, and my daughter was excited about sleeping in a tent, her first experience! A part of my life which had been comatose since my fall, was awakened, and I felt freedom and wildness and trust that I hadn’t felt in such a long time.

The generator was turned off, and we retreated to our tents. My little girl and I cuddled down and relayed stories, then she fell asleep. I read for a bit then drifted off. We woke with a start by the feel of possums pressing on us through the roof of the tent. A whole family of them were twittering. “What is that mummy?!” little miss asked. “Just possums,” I hoped. I had never seen Wolf Creek, and was very glad that I am not into horror movies. When you are laying in a camping ground in the pitch black, your imagination is active enough. We both needed the loo, and unable to stand it any longer, we crept out to the port-a-loo. “Look up!” my companion gasped, and I had my breath pulled from my lungs. The stars were incredible, as though the angels had poked delicate fingers through the navy crepe paper of the sky and allowed us a tease of heaven’s sparkle. We stood there for several minutes, looking up. Finding our way back via a fading torch proved fun, and we both giggled. I am so glad that we ticked a goal off our bucket list. I am so glad that the fear of pain; of being in agony far away from home was quashed. If you have never heard the cacophony of birds waking at the break of dawn in the Australian Bush, you need to. It was the purest and sweetest sound I can recall. I came home tired, grubby, in pain but replenished. I learnt never to limit myself, nor talk myself out of doing something that is unfamiliar or out of my comfort zone. That is often where the best experiences lay in wait.

#Project Positive, September 18th. Surrounded by…

September 17, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

My miracle IVF child, meeting my IVF doctor. Remarkably, they both had on furry vests!

I am surrounded by hope. When I got one follicle (most women doing IVF get at least six), my doctor didn’t say one negative thing. She knew the odds of this follicle containing an egg were minimal, but she also knew it was the best response I had received. I love this picture of her with my daughter, and I love that she tells the story of the lady with one follicle to give other’s hope.

I am surrounded by friends, strong and true. The sort of friends you can say anything to, and be assured your heart is safe. The sort of friends who are consistent in every way, and you can be ridiculously silly with. I have met them through every phase of my life. Some in ICU, internet IVF support groups, school, parties. Love them all.

I am surrounded by birds. I call out “birdie bedtime,” each evening, and tuck them in. Highly intelligent creatures, birds. I envy their ability to fly. Would have come in handy in my life!

I am surrounded by grace. Grace saved my life via blood transfusions. Grace saved my life on that cold winter’s night, as depicted on my body cast.

I am surrounded by love. Not the kind that is romantic in nature, with grand overtures. The kind that is eternal, ephemeral and takes you away from all the nonsense. This kind of love.

#ProjectPositive, September 17th. Good Vibes.

September 16, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

Good vibes is having hundreds of fairies in the room, trying to break the world record!

Good vibes can be found in the most extraordinary places, and in the most unexpected ones. You have to be on the lookout for these wondrous moments. The morning after the fall, I was wheeled along to the Catscan machine, and screamed in pain as I was lifted by six people into it. Exhausted, I was laying on my trolley in the reception area, waiting to be taken back, when an older lady came up to me. She smiled and stroked my cheek. “You have beautiful skin, darling,” she said. When I looked in the mirror held up to my face later that day, I only saw a severely bruised face, cut lip, cracked head, and dry, matted blood throughout my hair. The lady had good vibes, and saw me, beyond all the detritus. That’s what these folks do, they spread their good vibes around, like warmed butter. They cut through pain, sorrow, and horrendous times. It’s a gift. They flit in and flit out, much like a hummingbird, searching for nectar.

Last Valentine's Day, my beautiful friend invited my daughter and I for dinner. — Last Valentine’s Day, my beautiful friend invited my daughter and I for dinner.

Each hospital trip, they have found me. I will never forget coming out of my coma at thirteen, being taken back to my ward after weeks in ICU. The kids who had witnessed the doctors trying to resuscitate me, had decorated the walls with artwork. We sometimes feel impotent when tragedy strikes a person. We may not have the money to send large floral displays or gifts. We feel like we may be intruding. I can assure you, it’s the little things that mean so much. The card received in the letterbox. The meal cooked with love whilst I have been recuperating. The kind messages on Facebook. The reassurance that you have people in your life who love you and shall be there.

A wall of good vibes at Yoko Ono's exhibition, MCA. — A wall of good vibes at Yoko Ono’s exhibition, MCA.

I try to get over feeling self-conscious when a stranger obviously requires good vibes. Whether it be a smile, a compliment or assistance with directions, it can make such a difference in someone’s day. I have read of occasions where it has saved lives. Sure, I come across the odd sourpuss who looks me up and down and refuses to smile. That’s okay. Who knows what is going on in their life, nor the ripple effect my greeting may have on them throughout the day? Some of the best results happen behind the scenes. Good vibes are everywhere. In the art installation in the park, in the flower stubbornly growing in a crack in the pavement. Everywhere, man!

My friend, sending good vibes to a Gorilla. — My friend, sending good vibes to a gorilla.

A brave pirate with my feisty daughter. More good vibes!

#ProjectPositive, September 10th. Friends and Family.

September 9, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

Friends and family say that I’m… I asked my daughter and one of the first words that came to mind was stubborn. She reminded me that in all situations, we look at each other, and state our motto, “the Angelou girls never give in, and never give up!” It has held me in good stead over the years, and I am sure stubbornness shall treat my daughter well too. I must say, that we are flexible, and despite having a fused spine, my spirit is capable of bending like a reed (at least one part of me is bendy!) Not only do I love listening to other’s viewpoints and beliefs, I am able to respect them. Stubbornness and flexibility, a good combo! My friends and family are spectacular! Unconditional love springs forth from them all, and I know I am valued. Great people… Back to stubbornness; I implore you to never let go of what you know you are meant to do. I started writing my book when I was an adolescent. Making notes, getting the events clear in my mind. When I lay flat on the rotorbed for months, I questioned why I had survived. When I slept, I dreamt of holding a book. Writer, I had to become a writer! I sent the book away when I was pregnant with my daughter, and it was accepted. The dear fellow had a small publishing company, and his sister had actually been in the same clinic as detailed in the book. We worked on the book together, then I received a call. My publisher had died suddenly. Crestfallen, the manuscript was put away. I sent it again when my daughter was two, and it was picked up by an international publisher. Then, the financial crisis hit. The accounting department were reluctant to spend any money on publicising a new author. I posted it off again, then moved house. A year later, I woke at midnight, and felt compelled to look in the spam email box! I didn’t know why the hell I was doing so, until I spotted it. It was from the publisher I had last sent the synopsis to. It said that they had tried my home number and address and if I wanted to be published with them, to please call! The spam were just about to be discarded! As I said, stubbornness and never letting go of dreams has worked well for me.

Eccentric. I can’t ignore this one! I dance to my own beat, a beat others can’t hear and I can only detect faintly. Still, it is there, and I must follow it. I talk to animals, and every night, when it is time to put my little birds to bed, I call out “birdie bedtime!” The budgies climb back into their house and onto their double swing and wait for me to close the door. The canaries and finches hop up to their perches and fluff up. I have my funny little ways. My friends can’t miss me down the street, as I am always colourful, even when I try to be demure.

I would lay down my life not only for a friend or family member, but also a stranger. In fact, that has nearly happened a few times. I am glad I did what I felt was right. So there you have it, stubborn, eccentric and willing to sacrifice everything. I make my daughter laugh, and am both irreverent and cheeky. After a long battle to reclaim my core, I like who I am.

Write Facebook Status Updates for the year 2017

July 21, 2014 raphaela994 Comments

I am content.
My birds are tweeting happily.
My daughter fills me with joy.
Booked the flights to Paris, New York and London with bubs!
Feeling the best I have ever felt.
I love inspiring people.
I love you all dearly.
New book shall be out in spring!
I love my new home.
Nothing is needed to complete this moment.
Raphaela is alive and content.
This life is beautiful.
The demons have been vanquished, at last, at last.
I am content. (Did I mention, I am content)?

New Life.

July 3, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

We met a dear lady and her little girl, and were strolling the streets of our home town when my daughter asked to visit the local pet shop. There he was. The new life we both craved and needed. I burst out laughing as this little man with a fluffy bouffant and skun-like tail sauntered along his pen. “He looks like Pepe Le Pew!” I said to my friend. “Can we get him? Can we?!” my little girl begged. “Of course my darling,” I said. He was placed in a box, which was unsealed by the time we left the pet shop. The two little girls had turns holding him, and took him to the park.

This six week old gave such joy to both my daughter and her little friend. They played with him for hours in the park, and when we got home, my daughter lovingly fed him. Death and destruction occur, and as much as we try to shield our kids, pets die and pain comes, unannounced and with swiftness. New life and unexpected joy then arrive, like an angel’s trumpet, heralding all that is good. Meeting Peppi was our symbol of hope.

Navigating your way through Treacle.

July 3, 2014July 3, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

My child adored her guinea pigs. We started off with two girls, and after one ran off, we got another, which we were assured was also a girl. Turns out, he wasn’t. They had babies. After one of the boys found his way into the pen holding the girls, we ended up with quite a few newborns. My daughter adored them all, and they lovingly received individual attention. Yesterday morning, my daughter’s father came in with some dreadful news. The mother and baby guinea pigs had been killed during the night, their sturdy pen overturned. My heart sank. I felt confusion, anger and deep pain. He had tears in his eyes after the dreadful cleanup he had to do. Our little girl watched cartoons, unaware. How on earth would I tell her?

I went into denial. Certain rituals had to unfold before I could face this. Coffee, a shower, a lifetime. I was the buffer between my child and tragedy. She made her way to the back door. “I want to see my little ones.” Her daddy was out there in tears, cleaning up. “Come and watch tv,” I said, before taking myself to the shower and crying. We had a drink at a shopping centre, had an eye test and met friends at the park. My daughter remarked to our friends, “I cant wait to get home and see my babies.” We all looked at each other. I found a session for a kid’s movie, and we hurried along to see it. I sat throughout it, knowing that the time was coming. I could hardly bear it. I wanted to be her shield from pain, and keep her safe. As we left the cinema, she asked, “are my guinea pigs in heaven?” “My darling, they are, I am so sorry.” She nodded grimly and walked in silence. We parked out the front, as I didn’t want her to have to see the empty pen. We hugged and talked about the guinea pigs. She asked what I did when I found out. “I cried,” I whispered. It looks like a wily fox got to them. They are a cunning animal, and forceful.

Here I was, stalling for time, putting off breaking the news, and she already knew. My perceptive, sensitive child already knew. I was able to be her strength by showing her my vulnerabilities. I was able to be her balm by holding her close as she drifted to sleep. I underestimated both her ability to cope and mine. We are grieving, but are united in our sorrow.