- Open all the windows in your house and let fresh air in.
- Clean out a drawer; any drawer. Throw away the clutter!
- Purchase a plant or flowers. Put them around your home. The Peace Lily is a great plant, as they are hardy and remove toxins from the room.
- Take three long, deep breaths; breathe from your stomach.
- Fill a tall glass with water, and drink!
- Put on some upbeat music.
- Change the sheets on your bed. Put a few drops of eucalyptus oil in the final rinse.There is nothing better than climbing into a freshly-made bed!
- Ring a friend and arrange to meet up.
- Go for a thirty minute walk.
- Tap on your collarbone whilst thinking good thoughts. It resets your mindset!
Category: Self-Care
Rotorua, Sulphur, Mini Golf and Flemish Rabbits!
My daughter and I travelled to Auckland airport from Sydney to attend a wedding in Rotorua. It was our first international flight, so we were excited! We left home at 5am, and got to our lodgings after 8pm. Fortunately, I had prepared my spine -full of arthritis, spondylosis, etc- for this epic adventure, and after a hot shower, crawled into bed.
The next day, I needed a good walk, so we went into Rotorua, and had a marvellous time looking in shops (which are markedly different to ours), and talking to the locals. The cost of living is a lot higher here, which was evident in the price of petrol and food. Over half the population exist on the minimum wage, and rents are high. I worried about the local people, and how they manage.
My friends were married at the Black Swan Boutique Hotel, a stunning place overlooking Lake Rotorua. Black swans glided by as the vows were exchanged, and the grey skies cleared and sunbeams touched our skin. The bride was absolutely stunning, and I loved how we were invited to hold the rings, placing our love and hopes for the couple into them before they were exchanged. The reception was exquisite, as were our attempts at dancing afterward!
We left the Black Swan at midnight, collapsing into bed, and woke early the next morning for breakfast with everyone. The bride and groom were glowing and ever so happy. It filled me with joy. We decided to head to the Polynesian Baths to partake of a sulphur spa, naturally heated to 40 degrees. I lost track of time as my body relaxed and I floated with my daughter, and it was only when we went to get dressed that we noted the sign stating that you shouldn’t stay in longer than 15 minutes! Oops! We drank lots of water afterward, to avoid dehydration, and I went to have a nap, my pained spine temporarily eased.
As I slumbered in our Airbnb, my daughter uncovered what she called a fairyland, Mini Golf NZ, ironically on Fairy Springs Rd. The manager, Fiona MacGregor was an angel, she said, and I just had to go and see for myself. On the way, we stopped at the local shops for a takeaway dinner, and met many homeless youth. The weather had turned nasty, and a bitter wind whipped through their thin clothing. We gave them some of our NZ money, so they could at least get something to eat. This is the hidden face of any country, concealed behind the tourist attractions and natural beauty. The operators rake in the cash, but the poor see barely a cent.
I was already entranced by the music, bubbles and fairy lighting I could see outside of the mini golf centre, but when I went in, I was captivated! Flemish rabbits bounded up to us for cuddles and pats, and were very involved as we worked our way around the course.
There was also a tame dove and a rainbow lorikeet! I was in heaven! Fiona has been here a long while, and has not only raised her own kids, but looked after many others. She is very aware of how the community is struggling, and organizes canned-food drives and Christmas hampers for organizations like Food Bank to distribute. Fiona is a good woman with a huge heart. There was something very special about her and this place. She was here for love, an essence that shimmered like gossamer around this slight woman.
We met a lot of Maori’s, and they expressed concern about lack of job opportunities, homelessness, housing affordability and much more. I admire the local community organizations, who have set up linked charities to tackle the major issues. One of the major ingredients has to be a sense of hope; that things can turn around. If that is lost, mental illness creeps in, aided by alcohol and drugs. As long as hope and good people like Fiona abound, communities and their whanau shall prevail. The rest of our trip was spent in quiet contemplation and thankfulness that we had seen our friends marry, and that we had met Fiona. If you are ever in Rotorua, go see her!
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Faking Bravery
I have been unprepared most of my life, if I am honest. I was ill-prepared to have a baby, start my own business, take the chances I have, and accept certain positions career-wise. I am familar with abject terror. Two things have helped me, or rather, two people. The first asked me to define when I thought I would be ready to commit to my dreams. What would have to be in place? There is never a perfect time to start IVF to try and have a baby, nor move toward a dream. There will always be doubts in both yourself and what you are aiming for. Just begin!
The second bit of advice I was gifted was a gem. If you are anxious, and feel as though your nerves will get the best of you, pretend you are Cate Blanchett! This reasonated with me, because I adore this actress. She has poise, style and confidence. She interviews easily and makes eye contact. I imagined I was Cate Blanchett whilst giving speeches, in job interviews, and throughout social occasions with strangers. How would Cate be? What would she say and do? Fake it ’til you make it works! It may be George Clooney or Wonder Woman in your case.
So there you have it. Life doesn’t need to be perfect in order to chip away at your goals. There will never be a supreme moment to begin, so you may as well start now, right here with what you have today. Summon up the qualities you admire in Cate Blanchett or another wondrous soul, and wow this world!
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Old Magazines and Time Travel
Half the folks I read about as having married, have since come out as gay. Not even thirty years ago, people felt they had to hide who they were. Anyone over forty was considered to be of advanced age, and a rare few were celebrated as looking good “in spite of their years.” IVF was still in its early stages, and as ICSI hadn’t been devised, success rates were low. Gluten was considered good in most cases, and low-fat powdered skim milk was the go! Sexual, domestic, financial, emotional and verbal abuse were rarely discussed. If they were mentioned, it was only in brief commentary, advising the person to seek some form of therapy, though adequate help was scant. The postal service was rushed off it’s feet; the internet and express delivery still a long way off. We thought it marvellous if we could have our film developed in 24 hours, viewing the dodgy pictures we’d taken.
We saw Hollywood stars fall in and out of love, just as we did. Some famous folk sadly succumbed to drugs, alcoholism or other tragedies. If only we had a time machine to warn them! Would they have listened? Would we, had we been approached, regarding impending disaster? Some of the ads and features I came across in the old magazines made me smile and reminisce; some made me glad to be alive right here and now. People can be who they truly are without falling foul of the public or media. They don’t need to announce an engagement or marriage to be accepted. Medical advances have seen everything from cochlear implants transcend from one station (leaving only a minor improvement in hearing), to many, which can be adjusted easily for the individual’s comfort. Laser surgery is a thing, as are insulin pumps and scores of other astounding breakthroughs in medicine. A friend of mine was kept alive via an artifical heart whilst waiting for a transplant in the past five years!
Ageing is celebrated, and we are actually seeing people over forty on catwalks, and in the arts, being revered and heard. We live in an age of self-defrosting fridges, little vaccuums, mobile phones, laptops and the internet. Rather than hiring a huge video cassette, we are able to download a film on our IPads. We are fortunate, to be alive at this time. No more secrets nor shame. We are indeed fortunate.
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Old Magazines and Time Travel (part 2)
March 9th, 1987
Elton John was married to Renate Blauel and Michael Crawford was on stage in Phantom of the Opera.
March 12th, 1984
There was a feature on Celebrity Homes, with pictures of Liberace, Rock Hudson and others.
Joan Collins had started seeing Peter Holm. In good news, stress increases your metabolic rate! A recipe recommended orange juice, sugar, gin, instant coffee and ice as a refreshing drink. It goes without saying that a man requires a hostess and elegant wife to not only cook, but charm his colleagues. It is apparently expected and a lady can look at it as being her “job” as a wife.
December 11th, 1990
Elizabeth Taylor and truck driver Larry Fortensky were an item, as was Kim Basinger and Alec Baldwin. Cigarette companies were still running competitions, and the latest innovation was a rechargable vacuum with a torch on the end! There were no hair straighteners, only curlers and crimpers.
August 28th, 1990
Nicole Kidman was 23 years of age, and engaged to Tom Cruise. The movie Ghost was a hit and reduced-fat foods were becoming popular. Julia Roberts and Kiefer Sutherland were going out and fridges that automatically defrosted were beloved. Forty is considered old! Apparently, Mick Jagger-at 47- is exhausted from touring and at his advanced age, is looking forward to being home with Jerry Hall and the kids!
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Old Magazines-A Time Capsule
I stopped in at The Bower, a darling little shop in Parramatta that sells everything from pre-loved tea sets to furniture. To my joy, I found magazines for 30 cents each, some dating back thirty years. It was extraordinary, the information on the pages. So much has changed regarding everything from medical advice to technology. Here is a quick run-down:
May 5, 1986
Six cigarette advertisements in one magazine! In Hollywood, Dudley Moore and Christopher Reeve were out on the town with their respective partners. A feature on a lady who started a bread-making business boasted that her success lay in using only high-gluten content flour! Porridge with dried apricots was apparently a popular breakfast! Peter Russell- Clarke was our most popular television food presenter, and featured in ads for Australian cheese.
Sanitary ads featured smiling women in pastel shorts, running and swimming. Laxatives (that could unblock a drain), were liberally put on show, and used as an adjunct to a healthy lifestyle, whether you needed them or not! Monstrous vacuums were the order of the day, as were video clubs. Send a cheque, and you would be the recipient of several family video-tapes in 28 days!
April 27th, 1987
Princess Diana was featured heavily, as was 46-year-old Raquel Welch. Shirley MacLaine’s Out on a Limb autobiography had recently aired as a mini-series in the US. In cutting-edge news, there was incredulous talk of laser surgery to improve eyesight. Could it be a reality?!
Retirement plans were aimed at those aged 55 years upwards, with no talk of working beyond that age. Shoulder pads are huge.
Elizabeth Taylor was 55, mineral water and oat bran were served at health retreats and cane furniture was in.
Glass brick windows afforded light and privacy, and Brandy Alexander pie (complete with marshmallows), was a popular dessert! OCD wasn’t then a known term, and what was coined as a germ phobia was usually treated with heavy medication. The strongest sunscreen at the time was factor 15+
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The Last Place…
I have returned to most of the places where frightful events took place… Buildings and hospitals, houses, parks and reserves. I have stood at these scenes and wept for the girl who suffered so. I wept for what transpired. I took my power back, and incorporated that young girl into my psyche. No more feeling discombobulated, as though I had been blown apart, my ashes found all over Sydney. I became a little phoenix, rising with her wings outstretched. However, there was one place I hadnt been back to, couldnt go back to…
It was where I spent a great deal of my childhood, it’s gothic visage, cemetry and vast grounds seemingly enormous and frightening to a child. I have visited friends at the nearby hospital, averting my gaze from the tower standing high amongst the trees at the end of the road. In the 70’s, the old hospital was turned into a mental health facility and school for children and teens. The family had many visits there, none of them ending well. So many memories; too many memories. I was to be placed there at fifteen, my third such hospital, but the only one catering to anyone remotely in my age bracket. At my pre-admission, an older teen threatened to rape me on my admittance. I couldn’t go there… I had been through enough. Besides, I wanted to work. I had left school a year prior, and my god, I had seen and been through more than most adults. This felt like going back to the beginning. I was to be held here, with nowhere else to go.
A series of events saw the story changing, and my back was broken. I ended up spending several months in an orthopaedic ward. This place is my Sliding Doors moment. What would have become of me if I had been admitted? Would my story have been better or worse? I wouldn’t have had my hip and ribs grafted into my back, to make up a replacement spine. I wouldn’t be in physical pain every second of the day and night. However, I doubt I would have healed emotionally. It was the wrong place in the wrong era at the wrong time. I would have been as vulnerable as before.
My daughter was looking forward to an upcoming camp, as was I, and we learnt where we were to be staying. Yes, it was the place I had been avoiding for over twenty years. Every cell in my body stood on a knife’s edge. Then, I breathed. I thought deeply about the timing, and whether I could face it. Memories came flooding back. The hallways and offices, the conversations and smells. How desperate I felt to live a happy life, away from all this. I believed this opportunity happened for a reason. I am now strong enough to go back, and reclaim that girl. Strong enough to go back and reclaim me. I packed for camp, and then I went to camp. I wasn’t afraid. This time, I was free to leave, and nobody would harm me. I faced the gothic structure with courage and was rewarded with my last retrieval of ash. The phoenix could now breathe fire. The phoenix could now fly.
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Coping with Chronic Pain
Some of my friends are in horrific pain from long-standing injuries. I have watched their struggles and bravery in absolute awe, and have been suprised at times when they ask me how the hell I manage. I reply that I could inquire the same of them! This past year, I had referals to see a neurosurgeon, urologist and attend a pain clinic. Have I been? The answer is no. I couldnt afford the time, which is a reason high on the list. Home schooling my daughter and attempting to finish a book has seen me beg for leave. Just as I feared I wouldnt be able to prolong what shall need to be done, I found I could get through. I want to wait until my daughter is a little older, until more structures are in place, both financially and otherwise. I have a remarkable friend who is in the process of having a neuro stimulator installed, and this may well be where I am heading. In the meantime, this is what I do to cope.
- Hot shower first thing in the morning. I have a seat in the shower, and let the heat spray on my spine. I then apply a mixture of essential oils (such as Wintergreen), or a liniment to my spine.
- I use a back brace, which supports my abdomen and lower spine. It is extraordinary, the amount of support this gives. I got fitted at a medical supply store.
- Whenever I am sitting, I use a lumbar roll cushion in the small of my back to provide support. If I didn’t have this, I would need to lay down more than I do already!
- To support my spine and my kidneys, I drink a lot of water and herb tea each day. It is particularly important as I self-catheterize.
- I try to walk at least thirty minutes each day, or work with weights at home.
- I spend several hours a day laying propped up on support pillows on my orthopaedic bed. People don’t usually realize this, but it is a necessity after a particularly busy day! I am often in bed by 6.30pm. Fortunately, you can take your work with you!
- I was recently on a camp with my daughter. I knew that we would have a hectic schedule, and be sleeping on air mattresses. I advised my doctor, and made sure I had extra pain relief to help me cope. I also took my trusty TENS machine!
- I scheduled a rest day for when I arrived home. I needed it!
- I try not to compare my schedule with other people’s. Their journey is their own, particularly if they aren’t deaing with chronic pain and incapacitation. I can only do what I can.
- It is okay and normal to have down days; times when the pain is relentless and steals every ounce of energy. Roll with it. Your body needs to stop.
Be kind to yourself and don’t over-commit. It’s okay to play it by ear and see if you are up to activities on the day. It is a miracle that you are functioning at all, so give yourself a pat on the back! There will come a time when I will accept further treatment, and I will be grateful for it. Every life has seasons, and the time of reparation and recuperation shall arrive. In the interim, I listen to the concordant trill of birds. I sit outside in the sunshine and eat my lunch with a light breeze tapping my shoulder. I see friends and post silly memes to give myself a giggle. I try to reduce life into bite-size pieces of beauty, and live in the moment.
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The Nest
I had been given very little hope of ever having a child with IVF (after three attempts). Despondent, I went for a walk in a local park. I was standing under a tree, brushing away my tears, when an empty bird’s nest fell at my feet. I took it as an omen, and cradled the precious gift. I still have it- behind glass in my cabinet-eleven years later.Just the other day, I was walking with my daughter, and the nest pictured above landed at my feet! I marvelled at the time and effort that went into building it; a perfect home and refuge. Of course, it came home with me, and my little bird was just as enchanted as I, coming close to inspect the handiwork. Nests and eggshells from newborn chicks are items I tend to find regularly. What are yours?
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I am Sorry…
People tend to find it hard to know what to say when confronted by another’s suffering, particularly if they don’t know the person well. They may inquire as to how many children they have, and when the answer is “three; two here and one in spirit,” they don’t know how to respond. It is the same when encountering grief, serious illness, infertility or a survivor of abuse. It is tempting to apply a verbal salve to the savage wound, usually in the form of platitudes such as “chin up,” “you can try again,” “it will get better with time…” These words hold no healing, and are rather like acid being poured onto a vulnerable soul.
I went to a Bravehearts luncheon the other day, and afterward, one of the women divulged the abuse she had suffered as a child. Those gathered listened respectfully, and afterward, I went up to her, hugged her, and whispered, “I am so sorry that you endured such things; so sorry that you suffered so.” I did this because kind folk had said this to me. Others wanted to know how far I had fallen when I was pushed off that ledge as a teen; they wanted to know the details to satisfy their curiosity. I treasure those who cradled me, and whispered how sorry they were. It is the ultimate recognition of trauma. You aren’t attempting to fix the situation with glib words, nor paper over what a brave person has divulged. You have acknowledged their pain and the unfairness of what has transpired. “I am so very sorry…” That is all that is needed.
RAPHAELA ANGELOU 