Art by Rob Goldstein has nominated me for The Sunshine Award. Thankyou, my friend! I am humbled and honoured.
The Rules:
*Thank the person who nominated you.
*Answer the questions from thepersonwho has nominated you.
*Nominate some other bloggers for this award.
*Write the same amount of questions for the bloggers you have nominated.
My Questions:
1. What is your definition of courage?
We are all frightened, especially in the face of danger or the unknown. Courage is what makes you keep going, despite trauma and fear. It is the point of peace that declares, ‘this is not how my story will end.’ Courage is facing a new day or going to a social event full of unknown faces. We have it inherit in us.
2. What part does compassion play in your life?
Compassion plays a huge part. I have to be compassionate with myself, as well as those around me. When I physically can’t do anymore that day, I will rest. It is stepping outside your own experience, and asking, if I was in that situation, how would I like to be treated?
3. If you had a mental illness, how would you want people to treat you?
I suffer PTSD, anxiety and at times, depression. I love people to invite me for coffee, a movie or just to chat. I just want them to be with me. The feeling of aloneness is one of the worst things in the world when symptoms flare up.
4. What do you like most about aging? (or getting older?)
You can see the big picture of your life and see how far you have come.
5. What is your worst fear?
Heights! Apart from that, being alone. The feeling of being rejected or abandoned.
Being a home schooler, we still follow the school terms. My daughter gets to catch up with school friends and relax a bit. Ironically, she begs to stay home some days, as our school term is basically filled with frequent sojourns to the city. It was lovely, stopping and having time to go to the park. To watch kids movies with friends and have a late breakfast.
The guinea pigs have brought some wonderful people into our lives. We put out an offer for families to adopt some of them for free. It was fabulous to see the joy the kids experienced when they held their new guinea pig for the first time. I have learnt quite a bit about guinea pigs! I was pressing the wrong part of their tummy to determine if they were boys or girls. If you are pressing the correct part, something will pop out if it’s a boy! I also didn’t know that they can fall pregnant immediately after having babies! I wasn’t aware either that they are determined to be together, and to my horror, the girls broke into the boy’s run. As with everything, you learn through experience! Many guinea pigs have gone to beautiful homes, and I am treated to pictures of them being adored, which fills my heart. They have connected us to many lovely people in the community, and I will love them always for that.
Munchkin and I went on the Sydney Explorer bus with friends and ended up in Double Bay. Our friends had been wanting to do the Eastern Suburbs trip for years and we decided it was time. We had pub food and champers for lunch, then got some bargains from dress stores. Honestly, the clothing was almost as cheap as if we had gone to an op shop. We giggled as we chatted about our prior plans for the day. The park and then Bondi Beach for hot chips. The girls were so enamoured by the grand changing rooms that they didn’t mind at all. We investigated a mere block of Double Bay this day!
My daughter skated at St Marys Cathedral. The winter weather has been glorious in Sydney!
It was NAIDOC week in Sydney, and I took my daughter to a flag-raising ceremony. We all walked through the smoke created by Eucalyptus leaves being burnt by a man honoured to fulfil this task. We were mesmerized by the children dancing, and then we all walked together down to a farm gifted to the community. A free lunch was offered, and there was plenty to keep the children entertained. It was a beautiful day in a beautiful town.
We are starting the new term refreshed. I am looking forward to all that awaits us! I am learning alongside my child and have gleaned much information about our world and how it works. When she asks a question I often hurriedly seek information from Dr Google, which makes me appear smarter than I am. I am certainly going to slow down this term, and not run myself into the ground. Life is too precious for that!
I have slowed down, and my brain (and life) are better for it. I am actually letting myself feel the physical pain that I endure. It hurts, but it is real. It appreciates being felt. I am still limiting my caffeine intake and exercise in the sunshine each day. I am eating regularly and acknowledging feelings as they come up. It hasn’t been as overwhelming as I feared.
A production crew are shooting the next season of the excellent series Changing Minds in the district I live in. It will be shown on the ABC later this year. A beautiful mum I know was interviewed the other day by the crew. She was so brave as she turned her face to the winter sun and talked about her depression. How it felled her, and how she is making her comeback. I was in awe of her. The production crew impressed me with their sensitivity and empathy. The mental health sector needs more funding, and it needs it now.
I well remember when I searched for help for a loved one several years ago. I was frightened for them, that they may not make it. Time was of the essence. There was a procession of psychologists, doctors, scans, blood tests, and diagnosis’. Some believed this person had an adrenal issue, others believed it was hormonal. Still others believed it was depression. There were about ten different diagnosis before bipolar was diagnosed. I was left to sort through all the information as this person was too ill to do it themselves. Alternative health practitioners became involved in case it was dietary. You will try anything when you are so ill. The person became sicker. I turned to a church who offered counselling. I was asked whether this person’s family had ever been involved in the Masonic practice. I was bemused and asked what this had to do with mental health. I was told that curses can be carried through bloodlines. I was aghast that no practical help was offered. It made this person become more insular, to everyone’s detriment.
Finally, a mental health service opened in our town. A place I was able to get to easily and which was free. As a support person, I was going down, and these people could see it. I was given excellent advice and was able to remain on an even keel whilst helping this loved one. I looked forward to my visits, and finding a workable way of life, for myself and this person. I rang to make an appointment late last year, only to find that this service had closed. The local mental health unit do their very best with limited resources. It is immensely frustrating and heart-rending for the staff. It took years for this person to reach a proper diagnosis. I am so thankful that they held on for it. They are stable, though their grip on life can be tenuous. I look forward to watching the next season of Changing Minds. I look forward to hearing from the dedicated staff, who do their level best in a system plagued with funding cuts and politics. I look forward to hearing the stories of the clients, who have been through hell and keep paddling. You all amaze and astound me with your iron will. There is something inside that makes you hold on; the promise of a beautiful future filled with restful sleep and wondrous times. Keep holding on.
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!
I am incredibly touched that Gentle Kindness nominated me for the Once a Victim Now a Survivor Award.
This award is for those who have gone through mental illness of any kind, abuse, trauma, and especially PTSD. Here are the rules:
Thank the blogger that nominated you
Nominate 5 – 10 bloggers to pass the award to
Post questions for your nominees to answer (you may use the same as these below)
Inform your nominees and post a comment in their blog to let them know they’ve been nominated
Here are the questions for my nominees. Feel free to skip any questions that you want to skip. You can fill in your own questions as you feel appropriate.
1. In what ways do you feel that blogging can help people with psychological trauma or mental illness?
Most definitely! It gives you a platform to not only articulate your experience and feelings, but also to educate.
2. How has blogging helped you with your healing, or your personal journey?
Being able to tell mystory has been invaluable, and the messages of support I have received are incredibly uplifting. We are a real community! I certainly feel validated.
3. What books, movies, or YouTube channels would you recommend to someone with a similar background to you?
I have written a book calledLived to Tell. It details what occurred,and most importantly, how I came back from hell. It has a happy ending! People placed bets that I wouldn’t live to fifteen, and now I am a grown woman. That still makes me shake my head in wonder! My worst day now pales when compared to my worst days then.
Many people in my circle would probably be surprised to know that I have PTSD. They would be surprised at its ferocity and how hard I have had to work to have a semblance of normality. It hasn’t been easy! There was years of involuntary shaking when the telephone rang or someone knocked at the door. I would have to talk myself into venturing to the letterbox. I rarely went out alone. I can suffer flashbacks pretty easily, especially in social settings. You are out of your comfort zone and when a “red zone” topic comes up in conversation, I can literally feel my body tense and my brain react. I will sometimes feel welded to the seat, unable to move and get away. Sometimes I look placid and I smile. I have covered up my terror with gulps of wine, but when I get home, the horror hits. It can take weeks to get my equilibrium back. When a group of people start talking about the horror in the news and such, I usually think “there goes two weeks of sleep.”
I began to think that there had to be a better way than to nurse a flute of champagne (well, actually several), to take away my discomfort. There had to be a better way than to stay glued to my seat, listening to horrifying opinions on deeply upsetting topics.
Here is how I cope. 1. Remembering that I am here, not there. I have a little piece of paper that I pull out of my purse. You are here, not there, it reads. I find it deeply assuring when I am feeling myself pulled back into the trauma of the past.
2. I will immediately excuse myself. Whether that be from a conversation or a shop where music is being played that reminds me of the past. I will find a quiet area (usually the bathroom), and concentrate on my breathing.
3. I will watch my diet. Grabbing crackers and dips at a party will not do. A balanced diet is necessary. When I was at my worst, it was found I wasn’t absorbing B12 and needed shots. The difference was quite incredible. Bananas and other foods high in the amino acid Tryptophan are also helpful.
4. I am allowed to state that I am uncomfortable. If the people are unaware, I am allowed to state what my past looked like.
5. I need to have adequate rest. The PTSD (which involves nightmares, flashbacks and panic attacks), escalates if I am rushing from one thing to another.
6. On certain dates, I need space. I wont commit to anything on the anniversary of my fall, for instance. It is a time of reflection, grief and also celebration that I survived. It is a deeply personal time.
7. I take a bottle of Rescue Remedy and lavender essential oil with me in my bag. The act of sniffing them -or putting the Rescue Remedy on my tongue- snaps me back to the present.
8. I carry a photo of my daughter with me and take it out and look at her smiling face. The joy contained in the picture helps me to centre. It could be a picture of a pet. Whatever helps you.
9. I wont over-imbibe. The crash that comes afterward emotionally is devastating.
10. I can leave. Wow! I now give myself permission to leave! If the vibe is going South and the conversation is awful, I can leave.
It is a hard thing to live with. Sometimes the past can seem clearer than now. Every detail is etched into my memory, and doesn’t fade with time. Sights, sounds, smells, touch and taste can take me back. No wonder it happens a fair bit! The most important thing is that I show myself kindness. I need regular time to myself to process what I am feeling, and what I have heard. In a week, people can talk about murder, sexual abuse, child abduction, and crime movies/novels many times over. It sticks to my skin, like they have gone mad with a labeller. I go out to nature and breathe. I need silence to oppose the noise in my mind.
I had an experience the other day, whilst visiting a school on the other side of our city. I saw a lady sitting by herself. Her eyes showed abject terror, her body language stiff and self-protective. She was waiting to pick up her kids. I sat with her, and we started talking. She talked about a man from her childhood, a member of her family. “He was too friendly,” she whispered. Her eyes met mine. She knew I knew and I knew that she knew that I knew. I told her how sorry I was. So very sorry. I hope she is treated kindly in her adult life. You don’t “get over” some experiences, but you can live beautifully despite them.
The marvellous Corina invited her readers to make a list of things they dislike and those they love. I agree with her that “hate” is a word I try not to use, and much prefer “dislike.”
10 Things I Dislike.
1. Lateness. I am a punctual person. It reflects respect, being on time. It is an acknowledgement that the person’s time is valuable. It is also necessary. I take medications at certain times to curtail my spinal/nerve pain. I have to self-catheterise at specific times as a result of my spinal injuries. My days are timed to such an extent that an hour spent sitting is calculated. If times blow out by as little as twenty minutes, everything goes to hell.
2. Noisy Neighbours. They can make or break a place!
3. Talking on phones. I can reply to texts and emails in blocks, and just don’t have time for several phone calls each day, especially when service providers keep you waiting for hours!
4. Drama. Drama is something that one trains for as an actor, and should only be seen on-screen or in the theatre.
5. Politicians. Need I say more?
6. Wrapping gifts. Mostly because I suck at it.
7. Big shopping centres. Sensory overload. I resent being deliberately hypnotized by lighting and sounds into a state of inertia.
8. People who gossip and are mean. I would hope that we have evolved as a species.
9. Winter. I lay broken on the ground in winter, going into shock as the paramedics wrapped a foil blanket around me. Winter doesn’t float my boat.
10. Noise. Why are people scared of silence?
10 Things I Love.
1. My Daughter. She is magnificent. She sings and plays guitar.
2. My Guinea Pigs and birds. They are whimsical, affectionate creatures.
3. My computer and Wi fi connection!
4. Springtime. The season of hope.
5. Loyal Friends.
6. Music. Everything from Lolo Lovina to The Old Married Couple and many more aside.
7. People who make me laugh and are fun! Life can get so heavy. It is a blessing to be around those who lighten your load.
8. My errant treasures of books, vintage clothing, photos and decorations.
9. The magnificent fresh produce available in my town, and the purveyors of such.
10. Art in all its forms.
If you would like to devise your own lists, feel free to do so!
So, my friend and I went to Vivid last Saturday night at Circular Quay. She is hysterically funny in that dry, laconic Australian way. I texted that my daughter and I were in the loos and wouldn’t be long. She said she would meet us there. I waited and waited and when she didn’t show, it dawned on me that perhaps she was at the facilities at the other end of the Quay. She was! We hugged, comfortable in our embrace as we are both under 5 feet tall. I gave her a birthday gift, which included size 5 (tiny), sparkly slippers. We walked around to the Opera House whilst it was still light and plonked down on the steps. Her daughter and mine got restless, so her husband offered to take them for a walk. We began a two hour chat full of enlightened dribble about my making a fortune off an upcoming YouTube channel featuring my guinea pigs, my filming her Tina Turner impersonation, and becoming her manager, and bursting into musicals whenever we heard key words.
Dusk was coming and the children and her husband still hadn’t returned. “I hope he hasn’t had a hypo,” she remarked. “Shit!” He is a diabetic and could well be disorientated. Fortunately, he sauntered over with the kids, and we went in search of food. We walked to The Rocks, and selected good, nutritious food from the market stalls, whilst the girls demanded pretzels. Us ladies all went to the loo, and took selfie’s (as you do).
My friend laughed, “we are here to see Vivid, this light festival… We haven’t seen a thing in three hours!” I laughed too, and said that when we get together, we have so much fun talking rubbish, laughing and taking bathroom selfie’s that we forget what we are there for.
She showed me these mints and I am now hankering after the tin.
We saw the MCA and Opera House Lights, and walked around to Customs House, where I captured this.
Our two IVF miracles adore each other, and were happy climbing trees and being together.
Thousands of people were trying to get through Circular Quay by 8pm. Someone sneezed and one of our tribe called out “bless you!” “Thankyou!” came the response alongside thousands of people laughing and smiling at the exchange. My friend’s husband needed something sweet to raise his blood sugar, and so he and the kids had ice cream. We saw hardly anything, but a festival is about the bringing together of people. That is what a ‘happening’ is. This is what Saturday night was.
Sugar… The issue is close to my heart. I watched my beloved Grandmother endure the horror diabetes inflicted on her. Her legs were eventually amputated. I was a healthy vegetarian when I fell pregnant, and I was then diagnosed with gestational diabetes. My endocrinologist and dietician looked at my food and exercise diary and could find nothing amiss, nothing that needed changing. I wanted to do the right thing for my baby so dutifully injected insulin and walked several kilometres after each meal. Diabetes runs in my family, so genetically, the gun was loaded. I have a little girl in love with sugar (as most kids are), and I was excited at showing her this movie. She had to see it for herself, rather than through a series of lectures. I am aware that if I become too much of a sugar-free officer, she will rebel, and gorge when I am not around. Everything in moderation.
That Sugar Film
Damon Gameau is the hero of That Sugar Film. He ate only (supposedly), healthier choices throughout his experiment. His weight shot up, he was well on his way to cirhoisis of the liver, heart disease and type 2 diabetes. Interestingly, his calorie intake remained the same, as did his level of exercise. The only point of difference was his sugar intake. We saw a young American man with all his teeth rotted from drinking ‘pop.’ Images that remain. My daughter ate an apple as a snack today and has not asked for anything sugary. I resent sugar’s inclusion in almost all processed foods. How can you have control over how much you are ingesting?
When I had gestational diabetes, I had to stop eating out. I would select the healthiest option on the menu, such as steamed veggies, only to have my sugar levels go through the roof. The dressings and seasonings they coated the meal in were often to blame. I make most meals from scratch in our place, and we have a big box of seasonal locally -grown produce delivered each week. My supermarket bills have gone down as a result. The film was an eye-opener as is the accompanying book. My daughter will still ask for fairy bread and donuts, but she knows she can’t live on them. The movie inspires critical thinking, and as a result, I owe Damon a debt of gratitude.
RAPHAELA ANGELOU 