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.

Hello Kitty Café, Friends and Sydney

May 24, 2016May 24, 2016 raphaela994 Comments

Sydney in Autumn is a sight to behold. We walked around to drama, dodging trucks and construction of the light installations for Vivid, which starts this weekend. There were buskers and tour groups taking in the history of The Rocks. My daughter has a ritual before her class. I give her money and she buys a strawberry donut from a takeaway shop at Circular Quay. The elderly Vietnamese man sees her approach, and has the donut in the bag before she asks. My daughter says they are the best donuts in the world. We weave our way through wedding parties and photographers, my daughter entranced by the gowns, but grossed out by the romance and smooching. I call our day in the city my caffeine day. When you have such extraordinary coffee and barista’s at your disposal, why wouldn’t you indulge? To redeem myself, I order the best salad in Sydney. Spoilt for choice, it is hard to settle on one, and they are a triumph of assembly. The sort that you wouldn’t bother making yourself at home, unless you had a spare hour or so.

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Scenes such as the one above take my mind off my physical pain. Thank heavens my daughter’s balance is better than mine! On this particular day, I decided to travel over the Harbour Bridge on the train, to see friends. I insisted we try the quirky Hello Kitty Café at Chatswood.

My friend and I are under the care of an endocrinologist. Both of us are sugar-impaired, shall we say, and we try to behave. This was something of our last hurrah on that front, which is just as well.

Yes, I drank/ate the Freak Milkshake above, and was suitably buzzing and silly afterward! To my delight, they had a tofu burger on the menu.

It was a sweet little café, and we enjoyed our outing. It has taken me two days to get over our big day out, but you gotta live, right? I had seen this place had opened over a year ago, and determined to go one day and check it out. It niggles at you, doesn’t it? The events you miss and promise to get to the next year, the things you want to do and people you want to see. Sometimes you just have to do it. We are looking forward to the next adventure! Sydney is brimming with them!

MRI’s, a Painting and Pegs!

April 27, 2016 raphaela998 Comments

The period between school terms went by in a purple haze, taking with it, Prince. Fans woke in shock to hear the news of his passing last week. This year has taken so many individuals in the arts, and it’s only April!

The holidays were divided between time at home, and being out. My daughter caught up with a few of her gorgeous friends, and it made my heart soar to witness the bonds deepening. The girls put down their electronic devices and made up dances and spells, plays and songs. We also went to plays, including The Peasant Prince, and Cautionary Tales for Children at the Sydney Opera House. It starred the extraordinary Virginia Gay. She held my daughter spellbound.

I was gifted these divine bird pegs by a friend. I have written about this friend before. A nurse, she has had health issues the past few years, and has astounded me yet again, by putting her hand up to support a local lady as she flies to Singapore. This young lady has MS, and her symptoms have escalated. She has gone to Singapore for intensive chemotherapy and stem cell treatment. I am thinking of both these valiant women. They will be in my heart every time I peg an item on my clothes line.
My friend Diana Reynolds is an artist, and she gifted my daughter and I this enchanted painting. It has pride of place in our home school room, where we get to admire it daily. To check out more of Diana’s work, click here.

My MRI results weren’t what I wanted them to be. I had hoped to receive a procedure known as a discogram, to shrink my remaining discs. It was found that they had all desiccated, which explains why I wince every time a bus or car I am travelling in hits a bump. I have no shock-absorbers! I wish it were merely a case of changing the shock-pads! There are many more issues, which I have neither the time or inclination to see to at the moment. I only had one day in bed throughout the holidays, so I am relieved. I carried on, throughout social occasions sometimes with the aid of a stiff drink and for that I am grateful. It is a nasty, merciless agony, which has grown into a monster. I humour it; I temper its fury and I promise it the world if it will just let me do what I need to do. When my daughter is a little older, I will have that longed-for overhaul. I will admire the bird pegs, and the symbolism behind them. They have the ability to fly, and yet they are anchored. Perhaps it’s a comfort, behind grounded. They know that they have a choice.

Term 2 has just begin in Sydney, and I look forward to many more adventures. You could live for a thousand years and still not experience all that there is in this world. I had a conversation with a friend who is extremely ill. She told me her simple wishes for the next year or so. In light of her disclosure, I am going to apply for a passport. Life is too damned short and it flies by like a bird unanchored. Pain and illness, nor nothing else is going to stop the experience of new horizons. It mustn’t.

Teddy Bear Olympics

April 20, 2016April 20, 2016 raphaela9918 Comments

We were invited to take part in a Teddy Bear Olympics this week. Our friend’s outdid themselves with the decorations! There were hundreds of soft toys acting as spectators, flags, hand-made medals and little trophies. Some of the categories were for the shiniest nose, best dance moves and discus! It was glorious to see the kids outside, being kids.

They cheered each other on, spending hours gallivanting around, having a lovely time. I thought it was a brilliant idea, and it brought together a wide range of ages. Let childhood last for as long as possible! I know there were many soft toys getting congratulatory hugs last night! Our Rosie certainly was!

Something happened on the way to the Olympics, which left my daughter and I with the feels. We were at a train station, and a two-year old had a meltdown over the vending machine. She wanted some treats, and she wanted them now! Her mother had no change, and the little girl tipped over the toddler edge, and couldn’t reign herself in. A group of young guys sat down next to us, and rather than roll their eyes at the screaming toddler and her poor mum, one of them went into his bag, and handed her one of the little koala bears he had been selling. The spell was broken, and the toddler smiled. The mother was eternally grateful. There were good feelings all-round. The power of a soft toy can’t be underestimated! Did you have a favourite when you were a child?

There is never enough time!

April 13, 2016 raphaela9914 Comments

There is never enough time, have you found that too? As an aside, we often tell ourselves that now isn’t the right time. I ask myself, when will be the right time? Do we wait for the planets to be aligned? Sometimes, you have to plunge straight in. I don’t know where time goes, I honestly don’t. 24 hours has glorious potential when I wake at 5am, but I soon run out of sand. My daughter and I are planning on opening an Etsy shop by the end of the year. I have a desperate need to take her to the opera, the theatre, each and every cove and parkland around Sydney. I can’t sit still. I am afraid to stop. The truth is, I don’t know how to anymore. I find my release by helping her locate her point of peace. We went and saw The Peasant Prince yesterday at the Monkey Baa Theatre, and I watched the joy on her face as she “got” the lesson regarding never giving up, believing in yourself, and trusting your instincts. I realized that my point of peace is wherever she is.

I am sometimes terrified of failing her. The worst moment of my life was when I almost died after surgery when she was three years old. They let her ride with me on the trolley, and she stroked my hair on the way to theatre. I am her teacher, her guide and her parent. I am everything to her. I have been putting off having medical tests because I am quietly afraid. I have been waking in the middle of the night, crying in pain. People don’t witness this war going on within my body. It is getting worse. If I fall down, there is nobody to pick up the gauntlet. What occurred with my last surgery scarred me. It was close. I had bigger surgeries, before I had her, but I was filled with the bravado of youth and had nothing left to lose. Now I have everything. I keep on keeping on, but shall get the tests done and see a surgeon. I am on Lyrica at present. I don’t know if you know of it. It was designed for epilepsy, though is also used for neurological pain. It has knocked me about as I get used to it! I am willing to try anything. The bone and metal shards left in my spinal canal literally feel as if I have been knifed in the back. I guess I had been, many years ago.

My daughter is on school holidays, and as we walked to the park today, I stumbled. I told her to go ahead as we were meeting friends at a playground. After she left, I looked down, and there was this nest.

Lovingly created, the chicks had flown and it was discarded. I picked it up, and carried it to the playground. I have always found nests to be my symbol of hope. One dropped to my feet when I was despondent during IVF. I still have it. Every time I have been in hospital, a dove has perched on the windowsill of my room. It can’t be coincidence. As I caught sight of my daughter playing with her friends, the pain diminished. I brought the discarded nest home with me. My evenings may be filled with pain and I may no longer be able to sit on a bench without back support. My lungs may struggle, and I may find it all hard and lonely. However, when I look at a nest or a bird, my resolve strengthens.

Sometimes we have to grab time back; either that or smash the hourglass. Sometimes, time can seem to stop. It does for me when I see a transcendent performance, or delight in the antics of my child or pets. Referring to pets, that includes our hermit crabs. They can be enormously entertaining and run like the wind! The only relief I have is to seek out beauty. It is the source of that which is mightier than this merciless pain. If you look hard enough, you will find it. If you close your eyes and concentrate, you can stop time.

Brain Week, University and Hope

March 21, 2016 raphaela996 Comments

We have had a dizzying week, filled with grace, learning and love. We had a mum and her son come to stay for a little while. They have been on the road for almost a year, and are finding it difficult to locate permanent housing. One day we shall look back with horror that a single mum and her children found it so tough to secure housing. I could think of nobody with such a vested interest in being the perfect tenant. They are travelling South, and I pray that they find what they are looking for. Everybody deserves a permanent home.

My daughter attended a robotics lecture and tour at Sydney University this week, and also went to a Brain Week Open Day at UNSW. She loved being on campus, and was fascinated by all she saw.

This is a picture of her exquisite and beautiful brain activity! I love the violet!

Casula Powerhouse, Paul Trefry, 'Homeless Still Human.' — Casula Powerhouse,
Paul Trefry, ‘Homeless Still Human.’

My daughter felt emotional as she observed this sculpture, looking deep into his eyes. Everybody deserves permanent housing.

I attended dinner for a dear friend’s birthday and was delighted that Hannah Erika Music were playing. It was a sublime night. I met a designer, who disclosed that she is dyslexic, and her dream is to empower young people who have dyslexia. I can’t wait to see the glorious clothing she produces after she sets up her business. It is important that dyslexic kids hear of such adults, and have the chance to tour universities, attend workshops and see all the opportunities that are available to them. By ten, most have had deflating experiences and had trials beyond what an adult could comfortably endure. My child loves science, art, music and drama among many other interests. I know she will succeed in whatever she chooses to do in life, not in spite of her dyslexia, but from it. She already thinks outside the box, is extraordinarily creative and curious. These qualities will hold her in good stead.

We also saw a beautiful performance at the Seymour Centre, of Huang Yi and Kuka My daughter asked if the performers had fun coming up with the choreography between themselves and the robot (Kuka). Huang Yi answered an emphatic yes, and went on to tell her that he believed in his dream, and found others who did too. He told her to never let go of her dreams. It was lovely advice to give a little girl with a bucketful of hope.

Lastly, I had to share the recipe for these fruit balls that my friend made. They are amazing! Mix Coconut, Almond Meal, Honey, Vanilla Essence, Lime juice and peel and Chia seeds together and roll into balls.

Who am I?

February 18, 2016February 18, 2016 raphaela9913 Comments

I carry a small girl on my shoulders. She grips on, her little hands threaded through each other, resembling a heart around my neck. She assumes that I have the strength to carry her. I hope that I do. I have been many things throughout this life. Misunderstood. A wild thing, a hermit, an eccentric. A school mum, a student, a broken girl. I have been a patient, a victim of violence, a train wreck and a phoenix. I have been a scorpion, a lamb and a lion. Reinvention has been borne of necessity.

My hand brushes the right side of my torso. It is concave, the result of where they took two floating ribs to graft into my spine. The scars read like a surrealist map. This is where they directed her. This is where it led. This is where they operated, and this is what was said. Nobody tells you that anger can be directed into useful avenues. I am not okay with having been broken. I am not okay with not being able to fall asleep. I am not okay with living with chronic nerve pain and having shards of bone and metal piercing into my spinal canal. I am not cool with a lot of things. So unnecessary and nonsensical. The other day, I was sitting on a bench without back support. I tried to hold my frame up, I really did. Panic set in when I realized that I had to move immediately and lay down on the grass. My spine can’t support my weight when seated at a bench! The pain was out of this world when I attempted to. Here are some more labels, healed, a forgiver, getting on with things…

The pain is like rocket fuel, cajoling me to write. I want to help pave a tranquil path for my daughter and her contemporaries. It makes me strive and makes me determined. It is okay to be pissed off. I came to this earth without scars. I have had to design a life that is manageable and joyful, in spite of them. To devise experiences that go much deeper than the levels of scar tissue and adhesions. To have experiences that shoot through them like a laser and reach deep into my soul.

I have been given a golden key, which only those with wrung-out psyches obtain. It is a marvellous compensation for having lived a dark dream. I am more than all the labels noted above. I have come to believe that labels are meant for containers, not people. I am a woman doing her best. I am a person wanting more for her daughter. I want her to know her worth. I want her to seek validation not from other people, but rather from herself. To trust her own impressions and honour her instincts. We are worth more than a few token labels, you and I. It is a lazy means to describe the intricacies of a person. We all carry a little person on our shoulders, and the way their hands lace around our necks, resembles a beautiful heart.

Valentine’s Day

February 16, 2016February 17, 2016 raphaela9916 Comments

I minded a friend’s little girl the weekend just past. It had been a sad week leading up to it, as we had lost our budgie to old age. I was feeling a bit low, as was my daughter. The two girls set to making craft, and I was ushered out of the room. On Valentine’s Day, I was instructed to keep my eyes shut, whilst they led me outside…

The girls had strewn rose petals into heart formations. The fan was to help calm me when my spinal pain is severe. My little girl had written me a note, and it said, ‘I know how hard you tried to have me so I am doing this very small thing for you.’ These two gave me the greatest gift I have ever had. The other little girl couldn’t wait to give her mum the things she had made either.
We had a special dinner, baking whole orange cakes. The girls had fun decorating them, and eating the leftover cream cheese icing!

Love comes to us in many forms. It appears as an animal, a song or a tree providing shade. It comes forth within a friend. The love I felt from these two precious girls on Sunday morning was enough to keep me soaring throughout 2016. I had expected nothing for Valentine’s Day, and these two had given me everything.