Dyslexia Empowerment Week

October 20, 2015 raphaela9910 Comments

It is Dyslexia Empowerment Week, and the movement in Australia is getting bigger, our collective voice, louder. Munchkin and I attended Light it Up Red last Thursday night in Sydney. The State Library, Sydney Town Hall and the teeth on the iconic entrance to Luna Park were lit red for the occasion.

I struggle to find words to describe what it meant to the kids to see our beautiful landmark’s lit up in honour of them. I have heard many stories of the hell these families have endured. I know first-hand. I know what it is to be called stupid, and be dismissed. I know what it takes to rebuild yourself. I talked with a teacher who had been educated overseas, and she said that Australia is around thirty years behind the rest of the world regarding awareness of dyslexia in our schools. We started off at the State Library, and walked around to Sydney Town Hall. The kids walked ahead as a group, all dressed in red, having snatched the colour away from the entrenched symbolism of the dreaded corrective red pen. I saw these kids make a bus out of a discarded cardboard box, and then turn the cardboard into a plane which was sound and actually flew. These kids are creative and downright extraordinary. Things are slowly changing, and I am proud to bear witness to the advent of a new way of educating these kids. Early intervention in our schools, more funding and installation of programmes that have been proven to work overseas… These are some of the steps required to ensure that these kids aren’t left behind. It was a magical night out in Sydney, made more so by the following interaction. There was a big event on inside Sydney Town Hall, and a red carpet had been rolled out on the steps leading to the grand venue. When we showed up to see the red lighting, some of the kids posed at the top of the red carpet. A fellow smiled and said that they must be important. “They are mate,” one of the dad’s smiled. “These are dyslexic kids.” It isn’t a label for these kids. It is a title to be proud of.

Please Read the Following…

October 16, 2015 raphaela995 Comments

Josh has posted two courageous stories over at his blog. Stories I wish he hadn’t had to endure…

Supporting a friend through AA as a teenager, I met many women, young and middle-aged, who found themselves in the grip of alcoholism. The beginnings of this cruel disease were pretty pedestrian. A bottle of spirits shared at a party with mixers, wine shared with friends at dinner, sipping a glass of alcohol whilst studying late at night. It’s not like you need it, right? Only if it’s there. Hard times hit, and the anxiety chews away at your mind. Adrenaline racing and unable to sit still, you reach for alcohol. Perfect, huh? It is a depressant, thus ideal to soothe a raging mind. Ah, that’s better! You remember how you relaxed the previous night, and instinctively reach for another bottle. Able to function during the day, you look forward to your nightly elixir. Trouble is, it is hard to gauge the damage being done internally, and the horrific rebound affect the alcohol shall have on your mind. Depression and anxiety heightened, you need more. You have heard the recommendations of having several alcohol-free evenings each week, and also the advice to never have more than two standard glasses… As the ice melts in your glass, you quickly refill. Automatically, in response to a nagging thought that if one glass felt good, another will feel better. Here is Part 1 of Hannah’s Story. With a heavy heart, I bring you Part 2. It has given me pause for thought and made me question why so many social events revolve around alcohol, why we instinctively reach for it after a hard day. Hannah’s story could be so many of ours, in particular women. We are good at concealing our struggles, to our own detriment. I commend Josh on his bravery and also his generosity in sharing the above.

Sailing Away

October 15, 2015 raphaela991 Comment

I wrote the following for Siren Empire before we left for our trip. There is nothing like the shock, disbelief and depression which accompanies betrayal. Some people do indeed live in fancy apartments bought with other people’s money. Even more astonishing is the fact that they sleep at night. I would rather be me than them. Karma catches up to the cheaters in this world. Anyway, I am rambling. I wasn’t in a great place before we departed for our ocean voyage. In fact, I don’t recall packing. Come to think of it, I didn’t. I merely threw clothing into a case. The seasoned travellers amongst you would be appalled.

We drank a toast to the birthday girl before departing. Now this softly spoken angel is turning forty this month. She retrained as a nurse the past couple of years, whilst bringing up her three kids. She works hard in ER, and desperately needed time-out. A wonderful group of women gathered, telling silly jokes as we refilled our champagne glasses. My friend’s sister had just had a baby, so couldn’t come. She had t-shirts made for us all which announced who we were celebrating and why. We climbed aboard the shuttle bus, and I felt my shoulders relax. At the terminal, I was startled when I saw that I had to walk over a high drop, which was visible through the Perspex walkway. My daughter saw my apprehension before I could even voice it. “I don’t think I can!” I exclaimed. An officer stood to the side and asked if I was okay. I explained that I didn’t like heights. Of course, its more than that. I was thrown off a freakin’ building! I soared through the air and smashed onto the ground. I had to be rebuilt. Not liking heights is what I had experienced before that time. “Just look straight ahead,” he advised. My daughter ran in front, encouraging me. When I saw her elfin face, with its dimples, I felt strong. I made it onto the ship! I did something I never thought I could.

There is something thrilling about taking off via Sydney Harbour on a ship. White smoke and lights streamed forth and my daughter delighted everyone with her cartwheels and dancing. We were both exhausted by 8.30pm, and so I bid my friends goodnight. In the morning we walked around the ship, and munchkin uncovered a candy shop with treats as big as her head. It was a great mini-cruise, as we met up with our friends, my daughter could go to kid’s club and activities and I could spend time looking out to sea, without having a thousand things on my mind. On Saturday evening there was a Great Gatsby party, and munchkin loved being a part of it.

I had some smashing cocktails whose main ingredient was gin. I tried dancing, but ended up throwing my walking stick and hitting a man next to me. Oops! Time to sit down! My daughter elected to go on the flying fox over the ship, and enjoyed it so much, she did it three times.

As the sun set, we raised a toast to our friend, Trish. We talked of the past and of her future dreams. None of the ladies’ present had been set an easy path, filled with even surfaces. Hell no! Collectively, we had all tripped on cobbled, uneven and treacherous surfaces. We have the scars to prove it. I didn’t do things like this in my younger years. Even going camping would have meant purchasing equipment. Life was reduced to having enough funds for surgery and IVF, and then to make sure I had everything my baby needed. I have learnt that adventures are necessary, for the mind and the soul. Decisions are made, minds are eased and fun is had. Life can’t just be a tedious, painful trip to the grave, can it? I want more for my child. I want to show her the big wide world, whilst sheltering her from con-artists. I want to show her oceans and fields of lavender, rainforests and castles. I am sick of stuff, and all it represents. I want experiences, as does she.

The only way is up from here, kid. I am so glad that I got to spend time with these remarkable women and this remarkable child. I cringed as my phone came back into range and was flooded with texts, missed calls, emails and Facebook messages. Unless it can be arranged to have me cloned, all will be seen to in good time. I have bags to unpack, washing to be done, stories to write and a child to school. I have a friend who turned forty by heading to the ocean, the negative ions cleansing all our psyche’s. One of the single ladies in our group made a new friend on the ship, and they are going on another little cruise in April! Yes! That is it! I want to be like Bronwyn! I want to smile and be open to new possibilities, and to say yes to things I haven’t done before. I want to force myself to consider that there are more honest, decent people in this world than foul. I want to one day believe it again.

Light it Red for Dyslexia in Australia

October 13, 2015October 13, 2015 raphaela994 Comments

Dyslexia Support Australia are a wonderful group of supportive people who have been through it all. I know from personal experience the immense frustration and heartache in sourcing adequate help for a dyslexic child, and it was behind my decision to home school. Many parents would dearly like the following to be a priority within the education system.

Diagnosis at the earliest age possible.
Science/evidence-based interventions and school’s guiding parents rather than the reverse.
In order to support the above priorities, make available further training so that teachers can identify dyslexic students and provide effective reading instruction.

Light it Red is a wonderful initiative where landmarks and monuments around Australia shall be lit red. The dreaded red pen used to mark work at school is well-known to dyslexic students. It has been a symbol of corrections and crosses through their work. It is being reclaimed as an empowering colour, a colour of hope and support. Wear red, and get along to one of the events taking place on October 15th! Upload your pics to https://www.facebook.com/DyslexiaAwarenessAustralia

Behind the Smile has written an exquisite piece on what it is like to be dyslexic here.

Back Soon.

October 7, 2015October 7, 2015 raphaela999 Comments

It has been a very big week here, and I am having a little break away. Looking forward to coming back soon, and getting back into the business (and joy), of writing. I have had my heart not only broken, but ground into the dirt many times throughout my life. I have been deceived, played and used. I have often wondered how I could possibly go on. Somehow, I do, just like you. My child smiled at me this morning, as we chatted about what we were going to pack for our adventure. My little canary, Setrena flew to the kitchen window. He sat atop an agate and stood his ground as four Indian Miner birds tried their best to peck him through the glass. Now these birds are pests in Australia, and attack our native birds. Setrena didn’t back down. He opened his beak, puffed out his feathers and went mad at them. I loved seeing this plucky little bird take on the bullies. A friend insisted on making me a cup of tea. I am starting again. If my little bird can stand his ground, so can I. The following from Afternoon of Sundries is simply stunning. It says it all. I will see you next week. xxx

Update from Raphaela

October 5, 2015October 7, 2015 raphaela9910 Comments

I received some devastating news last Friday. It came in the form of a group email, stating that my publisher had gone into receivership the previous Monday. I read and re-read the email, unable to take it in. I worked hard for two years, promoting my book and also planning eight further titles. The room spun as I tried to gather my thoughts. It meant that I wouldn’t receive royalties, and that the income I hoped to receive whilst home schooling my daughter wouldn’t be forthcoming. Life had to continue, even as I struggled to process what had occurred. I took my daughter to a friend’s home, as she was going to go to an ice-skating party with a bunch of girls. I didn’t talk about what had occurred. Instead this mum and I laughed about all manner of things until tears streamed from my eyes. It was such a release. I found it hard to leave and go back home to try to do the practical things necessary in this crisis.

On the Saturday, I attended a 40th birthday party for a courageous friend. I have watched her create a wonderful life for herself and her girls over the past eight years. It hasn’t been easy, but she has done it. There was a fire pit, and I sat mesmerized as the flames danced. I haven’t been sleeping since this occurred, feeling as though I am in limbo. I can’t do anything until the receiver’s get in touch and let the author’s know about their books. I am stunned that we were told in such a manner, and angry that the publisher didn’t live up to many parts of the contract. I had to trust that they would, as we have to do on many occasions. Trust a person’s word. Trust them on face value.

My daughter was asked if she could climb a glorious tree in a friend’s backyard and thread through lighting and mirror balls in preparation for a house-warming. She is an avid climber and had a ball helping out. I sat underneath this beautiful tree, and it reminded me of the one in The Magic Faraway Tree.

The light shot out and changed colour every minute. It turned the tree into a kaleidoscope of luminescence. The kids chased each other and threw water balloons, and I listened to the band singing ‘Blackbird’ by The Beatles. At that particular moment, all was calm in my world. There were tears as I talked with friends, but there was also laughter. I feel the need to display to my daughter how one can bounce back from betrayal and disappointment. It helps to sit in a lush backyard with a beautiful community of people on a Spring evening. A galah joined us, and to our surprise, regaled us with a stream of profanities! It was perfect in its whimsy. I am so tired that I can’t think. I am so anxious that my stomach is in knots and my body is shaking. I feel a cacophony of emotions and dread the thought of starting again.

Start again I must, for there is a little girl watching; a child that I have to provide for. There are friends and magic trees and visiting galah’s with rude vocabularies. There is music and sunshine and giggling and water bombs.

The Sunshine Award

September 30, 2015September 30, 2015 raphaela999 Comments

The beautiful Erika Kind nominated me for this lovely award. Please go and check out her blog. She is a dear and inspiring friend.

Rules for the award:

Thank the person who nominated you.
Answer the questions from the person who nominated you.
Nominate a few other bloggers.
Write the same amount of questions for the bloggers you nominated.
Notify the bloggers on their blog.
Put the award button on your blog.

I nominate:

Lupey Loops

Passion through Poetry

Inside Charlotte’s Mind

Eclectic Ali

Alphabet Story

Mama Mick Terry

Living for Creativity

Afternoon of Sundries

Here are the questions:

1) Which decade do you miss the most?

The 60’s. Such a hopeful time.

2) To which poet do you feel most connected to?

So many! Local poets such as Irina Dimitric-Stojic, Brian Bell and also Eva Poetex and A Fullness in Brevity amongst many other fine poets.

3) Your spirit cartoon character/TV show artist?

Casper!

4) Your favourite indulgence when in stress?

Bubble bath, red wine, candles and lavender essential oil!

5) How has your blog helped you the most?

It has given me a platform to speak from my heart, which I am so grateful for. It has also given me many lovely friendships with fellow bloggers.

My Questions are:

What has blogging given you?
What do you do when you are under stress?
What music do you love?
What advice would you give new bloggers?
What artist inspires you?

People asking about your fertility…

September 29, 2015September 29, 2015 raphaela9924 Comments

This is a bone of contention for me. I was asked when I was going to have kids continually, for many years. It didn’t help that due to endometriosis, my abdomen swelled and at times I did appear pregnant. At the time I didn’t know that I would require IVF to have any chance of pregnancy, nor that it would be a decade-long odyssey. When people asked about my plans, I felt frozen to the spot. I was already worried about the possibility of infertility, and feeling as though I had to explain myself compounded my fears and pain. It didn’t end when I was undergoing cycles of IVF either. I was regularly asked if it had “worked.” It was akin to being re-traumatized. The pain of it all was overlooked as others made glib jokes. They also commented that I wouldn’t know what business, life nor love were until I had a child.

The queries didn’t end when I had my daughter. Soon after her birth, people started enquiring as to when I was having another. There was advice on not leaving her an only child. There were smirks and comments about how one child turns out. There was criticism and pressure all around me. I almost died trying to get myself prepared via surgery for further IVF. The trauma caused me to plunge into menopause prematurely. Still, the questions kept coming, as did the criticism of having an only child.

I can say with all honesty that as much as I love my child, I applaud that she is becoming an autonomous human being. As each day passes, she is a step further toward independence. I spend 24 hours a day with her, yet we aren’t joined at the hip. I have my interests and she has hers, and we make time for both. At every opportunity, she is off with her friends having fun. It would be co-dependant to expect her to fulfil me, to make me a whole person and to seal a gaping psyche. No child can do that. I had her out of love, with the understanding that she would leave one day. I am the same person I was before, only stronger and braver. I go out more and wont put up with toxic behaviour for her sake as well as my own. I didn’t have her to define me.

I have a friend who is expecting twins. She announced it to me the other day. I had noticed her swollen belly a while back, but didn’t comment. It wasn’t my business. If she was indeed pregnant she would tell me in her own time. She could have had a litany of maladies to explain her tummy, endometriosis included. She already has a few kids, and is tired of the insensitive jokes and commentary at the other end of the spectrum. You can imagine what she is subjected to. It is an extremely sensitive topic for many reasons, and a hugely personal one. If somebody questions you about when you are having kids, offer them no answer if you are uncomfortable. Smile wryly and move away. You already know what it is to nurture, love and toil.

Liebster Award

September 28, 2015September 29, 2015 raphaela9917 Comments

Dear Lily June has nominated me for this wonderful award! I am so thankful, my friend. Thankyou!

Here are the Rules:

Make a post thanking and linking the person who nominated me and include the Liebster Award sticker in the post. [Check! See above!]
Nominate 5-10 other bloggers and notify them of this in one of their posts. [See below!]
All nominated bloggers are to have less than 200 followers. [Oops! I have no clue. Oh ye, gods of the Liebster, forgive me and be merciful.]
Answer the 11 questions posed by your nominator, and create 11 different questions for your nominees to answer. Or, you can repeat the same questions. [I’ve got my own, thanks.]
Copy these rules into your post. [Done and done.]

I have no idea how many followers I have, as I don’t follow the stats. I am just very grateful for you all!

Here are the Questions asked of me:

Have you ever experienced deja vu before? If so, when? I have had many experiences with deja vu. When I am going into the city, meeting strangers and also when my senses are heightened, I get the distinct feeling that I have done it all before.
Do you believe deja vu comes from premonitions into the future or recollections of a false past? If you look into quantum physics, our time-line continuum doesn’t exist anywhere else. It is quite fascinating that you may be sensing people who lived a century ago and they may be thinking of those who come after them at the very same time.
What’s one day or moment in your past you wish you could relive over and over again (in the style of the film Groundhog Day)? The day my I found out I was pregnant and the day she was born.
What’s one day or moment in your past you’re glad you only had to live through once? So many! The day of my fall, the many spinal surgeries, etc. Sadly, I still have nightmares and flashbacks on occasion.
What’s one thing you never get to do, but wish you could? I haven’t been able to skate, ride a bike or horse since my spine was broken, and really wish I could do those sort of things with my daughter.
If you were to have one thought every year on your birthday, what would it be? ‘I am incredibly blessed.’
If there were a day every decade you could indulge in any vice, habit or hobby with no consequence, what would you choose? (Caveat: You can only indulge in it one day every decade, but as much as you want that whole day.) Probably try my luck with a flutter! In everyday life the consequences of gambling aren’t worth it.
What’s the best part of growing up/getting older? Feeling comfortable with who you are, and not accepting any nonsense.
What’s the worst part of growing up/getting older? I have to work hard to keep my bones strong. I definitely feel more pain due to prior injuries.
If you were forced to stay one age forever (a la Kirsten Dunst in Interview with a Vampire), what age would you choose? The age I am now.

Here are my nominations:

An Ordinary Miracle Day

Van by the River

Never Less than Everything

Musings of an Old Fart

Your Questions:

1. Describe what a perfect day would look like to you.

2. What is your favourite animal and why?

3. Favourite piece of music?

4. Favourite film?

5. What is your favourite beverage?

6. What is your favourite colour?

7. Tell me about your blog; when you started it and why.

8. Do you like driving?

9. Which season do you prefer?

10. What is your favourite meal?

11. What is the motto you live by?

My Morning Rituals

September 25, 2015September 25, 2015 raphaela9915 Comments

The only time I have been to a hairdresser in the last few years.

We have read about people’s morning rituals with great interest. They seem seamless, calm, orderly. My world is the opposite. I have scores of de-cluttering books standing forlornly on my bookshelf (and under the bed). Despite my best efforts, my house isn’t orderly. I blame the fact it is tiny with no storage. At the end of a busy day, clothes are thrown in a heap on the floor, toothbrushes and hair brushes are abandoned by the bathroom sink and a pile of books and magazines I intended to read are scattered around the bedside table.

I swear at my alarm, usually set for 6am or earlier. I stumble to the shower, where I perform a sacred ritual. I crouch over and let the steaming water hit the stiff and agonizing points on my spine. “You can do this. You are going to have a beautiful day,” I state with determination. I process whatever abstract imagery has been brushed into my dreams, then stagger to the kitchen for my instant coffee.

Yep, instant coffee. Quick and easy.

I grunt as I survey the piles on what should be a dining table, and sit down to sip my coffee.

The tiny lounge room is full of errant treasures. The birds are tweeting for their breakfast, and the guinea pigs are squeaking. I fill their bowls with yummy food, then get my daughter her breakfast. She has the same thing each day, soy rashers cooked in olive oil and a glass of milk. She is a radiant bundle of energy as soon as she wakes. My breakfast consists of whatever is easiest. Sometimes I will make up a container of energy balls in advance, consisting of dried fruit, seeds and nuts. If I have been too busy, I may throw some veggies and fruit in the blender and have a smoothie. I remind myself to take medication to keep my sugar levels even, sustain my bones and keep my pain levels under control. If we are at home all day, I wont bother brushing my hair, nor changing clothes. I iron about twice each year, carelessly tossing crinkled clothes into an ironing basket to be dealt with later. I gravitate toward clothing that doesn’t require ironing each and every day. I refuse to look at the ever-growing piles pocketing the house. We have to get to work. Mid-afternoon, a quick clean is accomplished. More often than not, we are out of the house by 7.30am and on a train. We may not get back until late, and the cycle of discarded clothes begins again. I have had to let go of any ideals of perfectionism I previously had. You can have everything you want, just not all at once. The time will come all too soon when I have an orderly home, and my chick will have flown the nest. Educating, writing and being together is what matters at this point in time. She won’t remember (I hope), that she couldn’t properly see herself in the streaked wardrobe mirror, nor look out of a clear window. Sometimes, I am called to dress up for an occasion. This means I throw an outfit together, brush my hair and put on some makeup within twenty minutes.

The chaos is the same as the orderly, you can’t have one without the other. Often, they are both on offer in the one day. That’s okay. I know that I am advised to chant and meditate, do forty minutes of yoga and cardio. I know I am meant to plan my day and start off calm. I know too, that it creates stress when I hold a vision of what a morning should look like. I just roll with it now, and the mornings are okay, as am I. It’s enough to wake up. It’s more than enough.