I have a myriad of wondrous things to write about today!
Firstly I want to tell you about Tiny Notes. My daughter and I discovered a pink post-it-note on the window of the train carriage when we sat down. Beautiful people place them around Sydney, and the recipients Instagram the notes upon their discovery. It certainly gave us a lift this morning!
‘I am Jack’ by Susanne Gervay was inspired by her son, who had been bullied at school. It resonated so widely that it was turned into a play by The Monkey Baa Theatre Company. My daughter and I were thrilled and stunned by the performance. It was funny and heart-wrenching. As a parent, it offered a window into life from a child’s perspective. Get along and see it if you can. We had a great talk afterward, about how important it is not to bottle things up, and the need to share your worries.
We found an extraordinary room at the Casula Powerhouse, filled with chandeliers offering an eerie light.
I finished reading ‘Here comes the sun,’ about an Australian band called The Sunnyboys and singer and guitarist Jeremy Oxley’s battle with schizophrenia. He and his wife Mary overcame a great deal and managed to thrive. It is an inspiring love story and study of a talented man regaining his health.
We also saw a koala, frogs and many other animals at Wildlife World. It has been a great few days in my household!
We are going to have a little break away to go camping. We will be staying at a place filled with Koala Bears, parrots and dolphins. I look forward to sharing the experience with you late next week!
We have just celebrated your ninth birthday. Where did the time go? I want you to know that there is no need to do anything to make me happy. I love you in your petulant moments, through your anger and tears and also in your joyous times. There is no award or trophy you need to gain to win this love. My darling, this world has already tried to box you in, and label you. We wont let them. You are just as defiant as I, already with a finely-tuned inbuilt detector for nonsense. You are not just “pretty,” “dramatic,” “artistic,” “athletic,” “good at maths.” These are components of what makes you who you are, but my darling, you are not one-dimensional. I pray you never pay mind to anyone that says you are. You came to me perfect, with a grand purpose for your exquisite life. It’s great fun slowly uncovering what that purpose is, watching as your destiny is unfurled through a series of clues. It presents as your interests, the songs and movies you love, the colours and books you adore. It presents in the things you say. Hold onto your sense of self, and take pride in being an individual. Your kind heart and sensitive soul will hold you in good stead. I will love you forever. I knew you long before you were born. I knew you from my dreams. With all my love, Mummy xxx
My daughter and I have been unwell with a respiratory virus. It was the sort that leaves you no option but to crawl into bed. We had five days at home in isolation, which is quite uncommon for us. Of course, daughter regained her strength before me, and when I shuffled out of bed for a drink of water, I encountered a paper-art shop and the creative use of food-stuff!
A friend made cupcakes the day before her birthday, and we went to a beautiful park. The sky was clear and blue and the weather was nudging toward spring temperatures. The day of her birthday, she woke at 4am, which was the time she was born. As she snuggled in my arms, I recalled being given a tiny bundle at that same time, nine years ago. She was a miracle from the outset. I paused to remember all I know who have battled their own private hells with infertility and pregnancy loss.
We walked to a local café, which is owned by a friend. She decorated the table, and gave my child a beautiful gift. How wonderful is it when a grown-up makes a child feel special and important?
Afterward, we hopped on a train and went on an adventure! A traveller from Manchester had found a gig at a stationary store and when he discovered it was her birthday, not only did he dance, but he made a balloon animal for her. I hope Australia decides to keep this young man! We strolled around, meeting many characters. Time got away from us, and I hurried us to the station. We had tickets to Matilda that evening!
As soon as we entered the Lyric Theatre, we found the atmosphere joyous in anticipation. What can I say about Matilda? It was everything you desire in a stage production. It had spunk, it was irreverent, hilarious and heartbreaking. We were in fits of laughter one moment, and the next, had tears. It is a story for every person who has ever felt unsure of their place in the world. Anyone who has ever been subject to ridicule and contempt. It is a story of a daring little girl, who has the power to change the destiny of those around her. The sets, performers, music and lyrics were simply stunning. There are surprises aplenty. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the evening of my daughter’s ninth birthday. If it is playing anywhere near you- now or in the future- go see it!
Our children need to be exposed to realistic heroes and heroines and to my mind, Matilda is an aspiration. She inspires young and old to listen to the nuances of their heart; to keep telling their stories and sharing their truth. We bought the soundtrack, so we can listen whilst I save up so we can see it again! Happy Birthday, to my daughter. You are one of the funniest, kindest and most creative people I have ever known. May the years ahead be full of wonder. If I had the power, I would create a musical score for your life. No sadness, just high notes, accompanied by harps and flutes. I wish I had that power. I will be accompanying you on your journey, doing all I can to buffer the low times so that there are no sharp edges.
There are so many on my list! I am beguiled by my daughter’s enthusiasm for travel, and of course, must include the places she desperately wants to see!
Paris. We don’t want to go the tourist route; rather, we want to see Paris through a bohemian’s eyes. We want to dine at places off the usual map, and see wonders that aren’t in the brochures.
New York. It has the gritty, tough and optimistic energy of Sydney. Beautiful architecture and a big heart.
London. Actually, the UK as a whole! The history, the colour and the art. I reckon we could live there if it wasn’t so cold!
Australia. Our country is so expansive, that it would take many years to see it all! Heck, just getting around the beaches in NSW is a task in itself!
After conferring with my daughter, we have decided that we can’t narrow it down. We want to see everywhere in the world; the good, the confronting and the visually beautiful. We would like to do this all at once!
I woke at 5am, and made myself a cup of coffee. I am still on instant. Who has time for coffee machines to do their thing? My activity stirred the guinea pigs, who began squeaking for breakfast, shortly followed by the birds. When munchkin got up, she had her usual soy rashers in olive oil (she calls then not-bacon). She then made herself a hard-boiled egg in our Eggo, a little machine that tweets when the egg is done! We were at the bus stop by 7am, in perfect time for the express service. Our train was waiting at the station, so our travel was seamless. It is a rare thing! My daughter was going to do a puppet workshop, with a renowned puppeteer and ceramic teacher from the UK. We were early, so I went in search of refreshments and we happened across a Les Mis costume exhibition!
Cossette’s Wedding DressFantine’s dress
It is my daughter’s birthday soon, and she found herself the perfect gift in Mozi, a Melbourne designer’s store. It was a dear little tent. She wants to set it up with soft toys and cushions. Every kid needs a fort and the lady gave us 10% off as it was floor stock! My daughter attended the four hour workshop with the dear fellow and his wife from the UK. They quite often teach adults the act of puppet-making, and expressed sorrow that many grown-ups find it difficult to use their imaginations to make up a storyline. They came prepared with old plastic bottles, which became the puppet heads. They had already done the foundation, so the kids could begin painting. The children had a ball working together on a storyline, which they presented to us.
The base of the puppet head.
My daughter and her puppet, Jewel.
Afterward, we went back to the shops, and I bought my daughter some educational games. I then had the best peppermint tea of my life!
On our way to the station, we met a tame cockatoo. He was the dearest little thing. He came right up to my daughter! I was too enamoured by the scene to take a photo. We reluctantly left him to get to the platform. To our astonishment, he followed us! I had visions of him hopping onto my shoulder and catching the train home with us, but his friend flew down and coaxed him away. It was a glorious day! My spine was extremely painful, to the point I feared I may pass out from the pain. Fortunately I didn’t! In those times, I fly away from this body, and absorb myself in the sights, sounds and experience around me. It helps if those things are beautiful!
My wonderful friend, Swamiyesudas has just posted a piece about kindness over on his blog, urging everyone to perform an act of kindness each day. Imagine the ripple effect! My child never ceases to amaze me with her understanding of kindness. A few weeks ago, a little friend of hers had to have some medical tests. She was concerned about her friend, and wanted to go along for support. We were just about to leave the house to go meet them when my daughter turned around and ran into her room. She came out with her beloved bulldog, made at a soft-toy party a few years ago. She gave it to her little friend, and the joy exuding from both of them lit up the train carriage as we made our way into the city. Her friend had found a light sabre on their last playdate, and gave it to my daughter to keep. My kid hadn’t forgotten her kindness. It is hard to describe how ecstatic my daughter was when we bumped into her friend at the shops a few days later. There she was, clutching the bulldog. “She loves him!” my daughter exclaimed. “Yes, she certainly does!” I smiled.
Last weekend, I took her into the city. There were hoards of people around as we strolled through Haymarket, and I grabbed a hold of her hand. Suddenly, she paused. She retrieved the pocket-money from her purse and went over to a man sitting on the ground. He had two little dogs next to him, and was strumming The Beatles’ Blackbird on his guitar. She gave him everything in her purse. He looked up and smiled, tears in his eyes. As we continued walking, she said, “mum, I have a tingle all over. Giving feels wonderful doesn’t it?” Yes it does darling, yes it does. A child noticed a homeless man and his little dogs. I hope that he does indeed take his broken wings and learn to fly.
As we walked through Darling Quarter, we came across a table filled with exquisite paper flowers. A lady smiled at my daughter, and handed her one. I took an information card. They were giving away flowers in honour of Esther Day. Esther was sixteen when she died, and her wish was for people to spread love to others. She would be proud of these beautiful people, I am sure. Kindness is given and received, in an endless cycle of magnanimity.
My daughter with her Esther Day flower
The next day we met a grand elderly lady called Anna at the bus stop. I told her that I had been admiring her colourful way of dressing for the longest while, and had been meaning to tell her. She would board the bus smiling, her slight figure clothed in emerald, sapphire and ruby-red hats and coats. We got into a conversation, and she told us that she volunteered at our local palliative care ward, sitting with loved ones, offering cups of tea and comfort. My little girl was regaled by her stories, and sat with her the whole bus trip, Anna’s arm around her. Kindness goes around in an endless cycle of magnanimity…
To learn more about Esther Day and many other inspiring projects, check out The Deluminators
So it began… I didn’t know what to feel. There isn’t a guide-book for this stuff. I am inherently joyous, with a permanent grin on my face, and a naughty sense of humour. That is who I am. It is decidedly at odds with some of my life’s experiences. I haven’t been on social media this week, only to wish people a Happy Birthday. I feel alone, terribly alone. I have averted my eyes from the happy snaps at gatherings I didn’t attend. I feel like I am behind a pane of glass, able to see life occurring, but unable to participate.
It wasn’t a ten second fall from a building… It was also the events leading up to it, and the way my life changed afterward. The sense of loneliness never leaves me. I spent my last week before the fall in a room lit by a bare light globe. There was barely enough light to read by. It was freezing cold and I shivered underneath my threadbare blanket. I was so lonely. I worried about what would become of me. I was fifteen years old.
Last night, I didn’t sleep. I had memories of the 36 hours I was held in a flat, the grills on the windows, the deadlock on the door. 36 hours is an interminably long while to wait to see how your story will play out. I was alone with a monster. Music, smells, sounds, conversations, all replaying over and over again in my mind. The world outside carrying on just as it did in the street outside that flat.
Today, the sun shot through the window of my living room. It speared the sun-catcher, and it shot rainbows throughout my home. My daughter made snow flakes from paper, and delighted in telling me that each was different and special, much like people.
We went for a walk to the park, and I sat in the sun. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, so busied myself on the phone. A few dear friends messaged and asked how I was doing. I appreciated their kindness. Time doesn’t make anniversaries such as this any better. Being a mother myself has actually made it worse. I can’t imagine my child enduring this, any of it. I met these ladies, and we went for a late lunch. It was wonderful to be brought back to the present, to talk about our lives and to show each other funny images of cute bunnies and guinea pigs. To forget for a while.
I am so used to the loneliness stemming from that time in my life, and so afraid of rejection, that I don’t tend to initiate a get-together. I don’t think I could bear being hurt again. These ladies cut through the glass pane. I don’t know what I want at times. I want company, though desire to be alone. It is confusing and tiring. I keep people at bay, fearing abandonment. I love with all my heart, but keep my own counsel. I have developed a whimsical, light-hearted character, but it is merely a part I play. There is a child locked inside my soul, who is facing it all alone. When I look back on that time, it is the loneliness that has had the most impact. Being a child dealing with adults who are playing games you haven’t been taught. Trying to save your life all by yourself. Trying to keep other people from being hurt. Trying to stay sane in the process.
This past weekend, I was attempting to conceal what these days meant. “What is the date Mummy?” my daughter asked as she filled out her workbook. “The 24th of July,” I whispered. I watched her squeal with joy as she rode her bike, ringing her bell along the bike track. Smiling and tearing up, and greeting passers-by and dissociating. It is hard letting it all unravel as it demands to. There’s not a thing I can do to make the pain stop. I have to sit with it, walk it out, play with my daughter and cry in the shower. I am so grateful to the ladies who met with me, and provided balm to my wounds. We didn’t talk about the anniversary and didn’t need to. They knew and I knew they knew. That was enough. I wasn’t alone. That was more than enough. On the 26th July, I will open my eyes and smile, just as I did on that date many years ago. I was battered and battle-scarred, but I was here.
My spiritual home is Ashfield Uniting Church, always has and will be. There are times when I don’t know what I believe anymore, and yet I gravitate back to Ashfield. People speak their mind here. It is gritty and real and full of love. The sermon was about celebration, and understanding that there is something to be thankful for every day. It may a rainbow appearing overhead or the breath in your lungs. At morning tea, Bill put on an Australian Story from 16 years ago. He stood to the side of the hall as the matriarchs of the church appeared on-screen. He watched as Speakers Corner in The Domain (a lively corner of Sydney in the 60’s),sprang to life. Pictures of him as a young engineer were presented. Here he was, in his 20’s, minding his own business, when he had an epiphany. He left it all behind to live and work in The Cross. I had tears. I remembered watching the show all those years ago, and deciding that I needed to go to this church, to meet him.
He also showed us a 7.30 Report segment on the literacy program. I can’t adequately describe how it felt to watch children who had been discounted and neglected by our educational system come back to life. They were beaming, their shoulders back and heads held high at their graduation ceremonies. This program has changed their lives and futures. It is being extended to Liverpool in the near future. Bill was there when I went into premature labour with my daughter at twenty weeks. He sat by my bedside and celebrated when the rupture in my waters sealed and the contractions stopped. He was among the first in the maternity ward when she arrived safely at 36 weeks. He held her and prayed over her.
Here, they do real. They argue and get cranky, and cry and laugh. Your life can be in ruins and you can be dishevelled and you will still be loved. That makes it a rare and special place. To donate or find out more, head to Bill Crews’ website.
A friend texted me the other day, and insisted on seeing me. “When are you free today?” he had written. I felt a pain in my chest, knowing I would be flitting from one activity to another, and then another. Then, a smattering of light hit the quagmire, and I replied, “I have an hour whilst L is at a class.” We sat down and conversed, he with green tea, and me with a strong coffee. It was my fifth of the day. He could see I was overwhelmed and questioned all that I forced myself to fit into a day. He was concerned. It was enough for me to be taken aback and review what I was doing. Home schooling my daughter, I was trying to be all things to her. Teacher, mum, social planner, and many more aside. I was trying to please all the people in my world, keep my commitments, and generally be functional. I had around thirty texts a day and around a thousand emails to answer. I was exhausted.
There was no time to eat lunch, no time to change hormone patches, no time to see a doctor or exercise… Hell, there was barely enough time to down more caffeine! I had been feeling as though I were heading for a nervous collapse. Deadlines for articles and deadlines I put on myself. Put in a noisy neighbour who compromised my sleep… I would wake up and have to down two coffees. I would sit on the couch shaking with anxiety, filled with dread at all I had to do. I had to keep everyone happy. Sometimes I would hyperventilate and my stomach would churn. When you have so much to do that you don’t know where to start… My friend was right, and I acknowledged the wisdom of his observation. “I use business as an avoidance tool,” I replied. If I am busy, I can’t feel lonely. If I am busy, my physical pain is ignored. If I am busy, I don’t have time to feel the sorrow, depression and anger.
If I am busy, I can avoid my social anxiety. I don’t quite know where I fit in, and if people actually want to see me. I don’t call friends out of fear of rejection. I am unsure of my place in friend’s lives. I am scared. Thus, I drink coffee of a day, run around like a mad thing, and drink wine at night to come down off my adrenaline rush. The wine brings me down, way down. I go to bed, sleep for a few hours, wake up with a dry mouth and start again. It has to stop. My friend held up a mirror, and I saw the truth. I had no spaces in my life. None. I have to let go of control.
The school holidays began, and I vowed to not over-commit. A new playground opened around the corner, and I set off with my daughter. It felt wrong, and I had a panic attack. I felt guilt that I wasn’t doing things at home. That was a big indicator that I needed to do this, immediately. When depression hits, it hits in a big and scary way, like a tsunami of churned-up emotions. It tells me to stay home and hide. I have to do the opposite. We went to the park, and a friend joined us. We watched the girls play, and we walked in the sun. A few hours later, when we returned home, I felt refreshed. I didn’t drink wine last night. I went to bed early, and had a good sleep. The noisy neighbour was at it early this morning. I had one coffee, made lunch, and we set off for the park again. It was glorious. So many friendly faces, hugs and smiles. A friend even brought her little pony for the kids to pat. I am changing everything at this point. If I continue on this trajectory, I will inevitably collapse. More early nights, and less commitments are required. I have to. It will mean saying “no” to things that are stretching my limits. It will mean more time in the sunshine and for spontaneous gatherings.
Two years ago, I did a free e-course for people with anxiety. I completed a questionnaire which was designed to advise how far I had come.
‘Dear Raphaela,
Thank you again for your ongoing support of this important research – we really appreciate your time and benefit from your support.
We are pleased to say that the questionnaires you completed indicate that your symptoms have reduced since you first completed the questionnaires more than 24 months ago. Specifically, your symptoms of both panic and low mood have reduced by more than 70% and are now in the low to non-clinical ranges. We appreciate that the questionnaires do not always reflect people’s experiences, but these are good improvements to have made and maintained – we hope they are reflected in improvements in your wellbeing.’
I am never going back to how I felt as a young person; to how I felt two years ago. I wont. I do have work to do, and life does get busy, but I am going to cease pushing myself to the brink. It leaves no time for joy and happen-chance. I am going to walk in the sun, and we are going to play most days. I will find time. If emails go unanswered, if my phone gets switched off, so be it. I will snatch back time.
L cloud-busting
I have to retrain my nervous system and my brain. I have to learn how to breathe again. I have to understand that caffeine is lovely provided its one cup a day. I have to stop using alcohol to make me feel comfortable socially and to drown out the panic which overtakes me at night. They are only habits, and a habit can be changed.
My daughter played Titania in a Midsummer Nights Dream. She loved the experience and wants to do more acting! I was very proud of her.
I took my daughter to see Inside Out, a spectacular film, which addresses depression. It illustrates how a young person can break down and also be rebuilt. Afterward, we had a few chores to see to. As I walked through the shopping centre, I started to stumble. I had an horrific pain through my left foot, shooting up my leg and into my spine. This was annoying, as I usually have that sort of pain on my right side. There I was, holding onto a trolley, my daughter gently guiding both it and I. I met a friend, who saw that I was in agony. She had just been to the post office to pick up a box filled with wine from the Margaret River region. She handed me a bottle of red, of which I am immensely grateful. I managed to get home, poured myself a glass and lay down. New symptoms added to the mix shake things up. At least its a change to the pathways of pain!
Should I get a device that turns zucchini into spaghetti? Hang on, I have one but have never used it!
We went on a cruise around Sydney Harbor Friday night. My daughter loves Abba, and was delighted with the tribute band.
Anzac Bridge, Sydney
Here is an excellent article on the machinations of PTSD. I found myself nodding in agreement throughout.
Saturday night, we went to Marrickville Town hall, to a Masquerade Balkan Beats Ball. The divine Rroma Gypsy fusion band, Lolo Lovina got us all up dancing.
My daughter went for it on the dance floor, enthralled with the frantic beat and unencumbered joy. When life is rough and you are tired and in pain, my suggestion is get yourself along to a festival. Go for a walk. Shake up your world.
We saw a lot of rainbows on the internet, and it filled me with joy! Things can change and advance, yay!
RAPHAELA ANGELOU 