Grant Hackett

February 15, 2017February 15, 2017 raphaela99Leave a comment

I read the following with dismay yesterday. It is a road many families have walked. I have walked… Some of my friends have also walked this road. It can start gradually, sneaking up on both the individual and those who love them. They don’t want to do what they once loved. They retreat, becoming uncommunicative. They find no joy in anything. You may find that they are drinking more than usual. You may uncover just how much when you put the bins out and see the many empty bottles in the recycling. There is something going on that you can’t quite put your finger on, and they are either refusing to talk or aren’t capable of telling you. It is frustrating, as in social settings, they can be quite animated-jovial even-which masks what is really occurring.

When it all falls apart, it is often dramatic and spectacular. It can be after years of seeking help for the person. Marriage and family counselling, dietitians and alternative healthcare practitioners (to get their diet right and make sure that they have no deficiencies), AA, NA, GP’s, brain scans, blood tests, and so much more. There may be brushes with the law, and unpaid bills and fines. You may feel as though you are grieving a loved one, though they are right in front of you. You would do anything to retrieve their essence.

Thousands of families across Australia are facing the same agony as Grant’s loved ones. Right here and now. Finding appropriate help is time-consuming and exhausting, particularly when you are dealing with someone who denies they have a problem, or who tires of being on the merry-go-round. Who could blame them? Services tend to be dislocated from one another, and having to relay the story of why you came to be in somebody’s office time and again is wearing.

After five exhausting years of not knowing what the heck was going on with their partner, a friend was relieved when a diagnosis of depression came about. It was short-lived, as the antidepressants put them in free-fall. After another year of tumult, it turned out that they actually had bi-polar disorder, and the medication was causing them to rapid-cycle. They are doing so much better today, though life can still be challenging. The whole family or friendship group may have to adapt to a new normal. Stressors which the person may have coped with in the past, may cause them a set-back in their recovery. I hope with all my heart that Grant gets the help he needs, and I hope that his family can feel our support. It highlights the urgent need for prompt and cohesive services.

For urgent help, contact Beyond Blue or the Black Dog Institute.

Flower Markets, Pie shops and Friendship

August 8, 2016August 11, 2016 raphaela99Leave a comment

Some time back, I went through a hellish week. I hadn’t endured such concentrated crap for quite a while. Unpleasant people from the past tried to sneak back into my atmosphere via social media, money that I was assured would be there to pay essential bills wasn’t, and I was devastated by other events beyond my control. “What on earth is this?” I shrieked, to nobody in particular. “I’m a good person!” The week before, I had been blissfully unaware of the universal dump that was about to be bestowed on me. I wasn’t at all prepared. The thing with trying times, is that they are often beyond our control, but not our capabilities, despite stretching us to our limits.

I knew that I was in strife when I couldn’t stop my arms from trembling, and my hands from shaking. I lost my appetite and three kilograms in a weekend. I was exhausted and longed to rest my thumping head. I was on the loo constantly, my digestive system unable to cope with the stress. My heart felt as though it was leaping out of my chest, and I felt numb; disassociated from what was occurring. All the above were symptomatic of the massive adrenaline rush I was enduring. I couldn’t articulate what I was going through, and so I retreated. I didn’t want to burden anybody, anyway. I longed to disappear. I couldn’t see a way out of the situation I was facing. I felt I had let my daughter down, even though events had been out of my control.

There was a little tap at my door. A friend had been working around the corner and had called in to see me. My eyes were rimmed red from crying and sleep deprivation. Upon seeing me, she held me close, then took me for a drive. We stopped at a pie shop off the beaten track, and I ordered a vegetable pie. They began to make our pies, and we were shown to a round table, the linen tablecloth and colored serviettes adding warmth to a chilly day. There were flowers on each table,nestled in bright vases, and we enjoyed the best pies of our lives. The pastry was flaky, and the filling had just the right amount of seasoning. Afterward, my friend took me to a flower market. We were allowed in the cool rooms, and admired the floral displays. My daughter was asked if she wanted to pick out some flowers to take home with her, and her little face lit up. The dear lady who was running the farm even let us look out the back to see where the gerberas were growing in massive irrigated sheds. Watching my daughter play with the little dog on the farm, I felt the oppression of the past week loosen. The lady at the flower market was gracious to this stranger, and I am sure she could sense that I was fragile on this day. As for my friend, well, she did more for me than she will ever know. She enabled me to escape my own mind, gifting me temporary reprieve.

The next 24 hours, saw two other good friends call in, and I cried some more as I relayed the impossible situation I faced. What they gave me in terms of support, love and compassion outweighs anything I could calculate. They are indeed my sisters, and they effectively pulled me back from the abyss, and helped me seek ways to continue on. You can feel overwhelmed when a friend is facing a crisis, particularly when lacking funds, time or the health to physically assist.Let me assure you, that real friends understand all that. I equally treasure the cup of tea I was made, a friend opening her house to me, the phone call I received and the heartfelt messages I was gifted. Just knowing that you aren’t alone is enough to sustain you, and bring you clarity. Each and every kindness shall be recalled and valued always.

I still haven’t any resolutions to long-standing burdens, but at least I have a list of steps I can take, right here and now. I feel a little more empowered, and certainly stronger than I did throughout that horrific weekend. It all started with a country drive, a quaint pie shop and a flower market.

A Jar of Marbles

May 22, 2016June 8, 2016 raphaela9922 Comments

We had seen a video on how to make fairy lanterns, and went to a discount store to find the jars, tissue paper and glitter required for our project. I had felt the need to apply a mixture of turquoise, blue and purple to my hair. Now, when you front up amongst a crowd in a quirky manner, certain people gravitate to you. The artists, the poets, the dreamers…They see in you a kindred spirit. I stood in front of an aisle of craft supplies, discombobulated at the wide array, uncertain of which to choose. I noted a lady facing the same conundrum, next to my daughter and I, and smiled at her sympathetically. She was tall, with bohemian clothing and a funky short hairdo. “Excuse me,” she said, “could you help me?” She had a bag of marbles in one hand and a jar in the other. “Do you think these will fit in this jar?” “Afraid not, especially the bigger marbles,” I replied. She explained that somebody very dear to her was facing a deluge of sorrow, and was hanging on by a spindle. They had expressed that they were afraid they were losing their marbles. “I want to present them with their marbles,” the woman stated. “I need them to know that I care; that what is taken can be replaced.” I squeezed her hand. “You are a good person.”

I guess my fairy lanterns are also thematic. Here are these little fairies, highlighted with a background light, illuminating the way. When I was in the clinic as a teenager, I was privy to many stories. I recall that the term PTSD was rarely used back then. It was called ‘the horrors’ instead. I was fourteen, and quite naïve. I became friends with a gentle fellow called Denis. He was kind and funny, and also severely traumatized. He quietly told me that he had been a vet. “How wonderful! I love animals,” I smiled. “Bless you, kid,” he laughed. I learnt over time what he actually meant as I heard him scream throughout the night; witnessed him slip into catatonia for days on end. I was told I had a strong mind, which bounced back like an elastic band, no matter what I was enduring. I wasn’t even clinically depressed, according to the experts. Rather, I railed against cruelty and abuse, to the extent that I would prefer to leave this world than remain in suspended animation. As my own PTSD began, I thought about Denis often, how despite our generation gap, we had this horrendous condition in common.

My mind takes me to dark places and I regularly fall into deep depression. None is more surprised than I. I am a genuinely happy soul, who can seemingly bounce back from anything life hurls at me. I call myself a smiling, laughing depressive. I have been around long enough to understand what my triggers are, and try my best to avoid them. I have a delayed reaction to triggers. I may explode a day or two later. I need time alone to process what has transpired. Alcohol is a no-go zone at such times, as it leads to dreadful melancholy when I already feel low. I have to get out in the fresh air and walk. I have to turn off the phone and not have too much stimulation. Now is the time to get out my first aid kit. It contains ambient music, books, exercise, essential oils, candles, soup, a fruit platter, gardening, art, writing, playing with my daughter, the theatre and retreat. I am a happy woman with a tortured soul. It is quite the dichotomy. I have had to save my life many times over. There have been mountains that have seemed unconquerable; events too awful at first glance to be survivable. I have had to make that choice.

There is hope beckoning to me outside the bramble where I lay. There always has been. I cut through the brackets to reach my friends, and my life. Life as a smiling, laughing depressive can be confusing. It is concealed from other people, and felt behind the scenes. “You are always smiling and appear happy darling,” an elderly friend once said, “but I see the sadness in your eyes when you think nobody is looking.” I told her she was far too perceptive. I think my spirit animal is the phoenix. Ignited by passion and a love of life, and consumed by the same. Perishing and emerging in an endless cycle. You can be the most positive, joyous person around, and still be pursued by depression and anxiety. The two states eye each other off warily. As long as you have a jar of marbles, you will never lose your own. My fairy lanterns are visible proof of an illumination inside my mind which can never be extinguished, despite the odds.

We are stronger than we believe we are, and can survive what we thought we couldn’t. We are also fragile, and deserving of kindness. If you have been through trauma, your brain has been left battered and bruised. It needs love and time set aside in its quest for reparation. I can’t help being an extroverted introvert. It’s who I am. I love people, and socializing and I also adore being alone. The same is true for being a smiling depressive. I love this life, and have had to reconcile the fact I was almost destroyed by it. My path isn’t paved, and nor is it straight. At least I have my lantern to light my way.

The Reverse

March 29, 2016March 29, 2016 raphaela9910 Comments

I was feeling adrift on Good Friday. Wistfulnes came upon me and I was listless. Thinking of this world and the tragedies which occurred the past week…My mind was insisting that I curl up in bed and not move. I know enough about myself by now to defy this edict. I ended up doing the reverse. I took my daughter down to the river and went for a walk. I was joined by friends and as the kids played, we chatted. On my way back home, I met another mum, who was trailed by two little boys. Her face was cast in sadness, and she disclosed that she had only been at her in-laws for fifteen minutes and already they were irritated by her gorgeous sons. Rather than stay and become more and more upset by their cantankerous behaviour, she walked to the river. The boys burnt off energy and we had a lovely time, picking up sticks and errant treasures.

My daughter was overjoyed to find that the Easter Bunny had been Easter Sunday ! There was a trail leading to the backyard, a little girl with a basket, hot on the scent. We lit a candle at breakfast time, and stated what we were thankful for. Afterward, we went to church, and were greeted by many familiar faces. This place is about love, and about service. You can be real here, and the relief is palpable.

We messaged a friend, and found her to be depressed. She was alone in her unit, and I said that we were coming to see her. “when you are feeling despondent, you sometimes have to do the opposite of what your brain is telling you to do,” I insisted. I know from personal experience. If you feel like isolating yourself and staying in, you have to do the reverse. If you feel like drinking or binging, the same applies. Holidays are a cruel reminder of what you are missing out on, if you are alone. You see the myriad of families enjoying each other’s company on Facebook via status updates and photos. You can’t even watch TV without ads appearing, showing you how it is meant to be. Feelings of rejection, abandonment and fear emerge from the recesses of one’s mind. It is hard to escape.

I mentioned to our friend that we were going to Vaucluse House, so my daughter could take part in an Easter trail. To my delight, this friend wanted to come along. It takes guts to do the opposite of what your mind is demanding. We watched my daughter and her friend playing amongst the ancient trees, and had a Devonshire tea afterward. It was a perfect afternoon. Next time you feel like isolating, or are pressured to stay inside a home with people that make you feel unwelcome, do the reverse.

Beyond Blue

February 25, 2016 raphaela995 Comments

I attended a fundraiser for Beyond Blue last week. Two women spoke, both with differing pathways into depression. The first speaker had been an ambitious executive, which had seen her reach the top echelon of her company. It meant constant travel, 18 hour days and a huge amount of stress. She had jetted interstate a few weeks after having her baby by caesarean and that was but one instance of her punishing schedule. She knew it was time to revaluate her life when she began to weep in her car on the way to work; when, late at night, she thought of ending her life. She is now uncovering who she is and reconnecting with those she loves. So many people in the audience related to her experience.

The second speaker is a dear friend of mine. She was gravely ill, and in hospital constantly as a young mum. Isolated from her peers, and desperate to get better, she fell into depression. I think we all would have, given her experience. She gathered the right team around her to assist her recovery, and through sheer grit, she climbed out of the darkness. The thought of leaving her family was too much to bear. She had something to hold on for.

The talk reaffirmed that depression can strike in a myriad of ways. It can be caused by unbearable pressure or illness, grief and loss. We can have a life which seems marvellous, and still be depressed. We need to look out for each other, and provide a sprinkling of hope. Whether that be pulling up a friend by asking what the hell they are doing, running around like a whirlwind. What are they attempting to escape? It could be checking in with loved ones to enquire how they are doing.

We are as malleable as clay, and as fragile as the glass on our phones and other gadgets. We are strong beyond measure, like intricate iron lacework on old terraces. We are complicated. Depression doesn’t need to have a reason. It just is. A horrible blight on an otherwise healthy rose. I wish I had the answers. I guess we can help ourselves by regularly checking in with our lives, and banishing (as much as we can), that which causes stress and angst. We can check in with our friends, even if only to send a message of love and appreciation. We need to know we aren’t alone.

Please Hold On

September 21, 2015 raphaela9922 Comments

Last night, I noticed a message from a fellow blogger. She implored our community to send comments of support and love to a woman she didn’t know, but was terribly worried about. I went to the blog she was referring to and saw a photo of a gorgeous young woman. Her dark tendrils of hair and the faraway look in her eyes were reminiscent of a model from a Raphael painting. She wrote about being battle-weary, of finding comfort in the notion that she may quietly slip away. She was saying goodbye. Many people were concerned about this stranger. We need her in this world! Messages of love and support were sent. Please hold on. I have been there, sweetheart. I know how it feels to be done with this world and all the anguish contained therein. I wanted to fall asleep forever. I thought that my life would have to expire in order to slay the demons slowly killing me. I never imagined turning eighteen, let alone thirty! My attempts (plural), were executed with the help of a medical manual and many prescription pills. I had to be resuscitated, was in ICU, and in coma’s. Nobody was more surprised than I to awake. It took a long time to feel thankful that I hadn’t succumbed. Before these attempts, I could see beauty. It was presented outside of my realm. In music, art, other people and their pretty lives. It seemed inaccessible to me. I know what you felt last night, for I have felt it too. You get to a point where you feel like you are committing an act of mercy, by setting those you love free of witnessing the torment you have been facing. Setting them free to start anew. That is scary territory; when you believe that you staying is worse for your loved ones than you leaving. I am so proud of this young woman, for telling us what she was feeling and why. That took enormous courage. We were strangers at the beginning of the night, and by the time dusk had smeared the sky with cinnamon-hued light, we knew you.

Many years have passed since I last woke in Intensive Care, furious that I had been saved. Many years have passed since I felt I had no place in this world. My days are filled with wonder and mirth. I laugh at the silliness of some of my encounters. Others have me weeping in the shower. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss any of it. My daughter growing, having a beloved colony of guinea pigs, meeting friends by the river, riding buses with groomed elderly ladies, seeing in another year… The list goes on and on. There will come a day sweetheart, when you shall be glad that you are here too. Keep talking and please keep writing. Life won’t be filled with darkness forever. It is merely the background for the painter. They shall fill it with stars and swirls of blue. You will be in the foreground, in all your Raphaelite beauty.

Stephen Fry sent this response to a young lady who had reached the end of her ability to cope.

Changing Minds

July 3, 2015 raphaela997 Comments

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.

Graham Moore, thankyou!

February 24, 2015 raphaela992 Comments

This picture of an extremely talented man, and the condensed version of his inspired acceptance speech have gone viral. Thankyou, The Bully Project, for framing this heartrending speech. Thankyou for the work that you are doing.

I was thirteen years of age, when I tried to die. I felt different, and had the sinking feeling that I might never find my home in this world, nor a place to belong. I almost succeeded. I look at my life now, and you know what? Every day I feel like kissing the earth over the fact that I am still anchored here. To every kid that doesn’t fit in, and worries that they never will, the good news is that you don’t have to! There is a world out there wanting to embrace you. People needing your gifts and anxious to hear what you have to say. There are ideas waiting to be born, and places to visit. Adventures to be had. To concur with Graham, “I would like this moment to be for that kid out there who feels like she’s weird or she’s different and doesn’t fit in anywhere. Yes, you do. I promise you: You do. Stay weird and stay different.” It has worked for me! Those dark years gave way to a future I could only dream of. People that love and “get” me; a job I love. I am now home schooling my daughter, and seeing her flourish is one of my greatest joys. Thank God I am here. If all you have to hang onto at the moment is an audacious belief in yourself, it’s enough. It’s more than enough. I don’t know where my fellow classmates are now. My path dramatically diverged from theirs. I have found my tribe, and a place to belong. Hold on…You shall too. They are out there waiting for you.

Never Assume.

October 10, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela991 Comment

We have all done it. Assumed that someone has the perfect marriage, family, home, career, life. Time has taught me to leave presumptions and assumptions at the door. I knew a successful couple through a charity I was involved in. The lady was the life of the party, hosting many events, always surrounded by people, a glass of champagne in hand. I heard that she needed to go to hospital, for surgery on what they believed was cancer. “You have to go be with her, Raphie,” a little voice insisted. I told that voice that it was silly, that she would have scores of people at the hospital as she checked in. The voice wouldn’t let me be, so I put together a little pack of toiletries and magazines, and made my way to the private hospital. I had to look twice to make sure the little hunched-over lady in the backless gown was her, sitting all alone. When she saw me, she burst into tears. She was there by herself, alright. It was then and there that I threw my presumptions regarding someone’s life into the garbage, where they belonged. The amount of times I have visited people in hospital, to have them burst into tears that somebody actually came, is astounding. We tell ourselves that we don’t want to intrude. That there will be scores of friends and family surrounding the individual. Believe me, it is often not the case.

Through the charities I have been involved in, I have learnt that many of those folks living in freshly made homes in brand new suburbs are under housing stress. They can’t afford electricity payments to their abode’s, let alone curtains. The necessities are bought on credit, and teeth are neglected, dentists considered a luxury. No life is perfect, and much is hidden from public view. It is not out of deceit. Rather, pride and bravery and temerity. Not wanting to burden others with our darkness. Sometimes, it is hard to find the words to explain what we are going through. I have been through one of the darkest times of my life in the past eighteen months. I have retreated and gone to ground, been severely depressed and had months without rest. Yet I still have commitments. I have to front up to daily activities, my makeup on, dressed in fresh clothes. You bet I smile. I contain the sadness within. I don’t want it spilling out in front of unsafe people, and within the pleasantries of a social event. There have been times I have been down to my last dollar, and wondered how on earth I was going to provide the basics that week. There have been times I have been on the floor, unable to move. There have been days when I have rocked myself on the sofa, curtains drawn. There have been times I have worked on projects for twelve hours straight, for weeks on end. When we ask if somebody is okay, we need to listen for the answer. Often its told through body language, changes in behaviour and routine. Leave your presumptions behind, and gently rap on their door. Go visit the hospital. Befriend the one who appears to have the glittering life.

When you see me about, enjoying a festival or other event, it is because I have managed to squirrel away a little money, and have found a small pocket of time to get out and relax. My child and I need the theatre and art for our oxygen, giving us the focus to stay on track regarding our goals and dreams. It is not a perfect life. It can be immensely painful, soul-destroying and sad, like any other life. So when you see the pictures on Facebook, and read the update about a friend’s holiday, perhaps spend a moment thinking of how long they have saved, what they are needing to escape from, and what is beneath the surface. We have our own Atlantis lurking beneath the image. Be kind and be alert.

Revising Life.

August 12, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela993 Comments

Robin Williams has left us. My friends and I are all in tears. Those that bring laughter and joy are usually the ones who battle in private. Acutely aware of not wanting to burden the people around them, they say little of their struggles. They keep busy, running several projects at the one time, spinning the plates with only two hands. Their social life looks full and one witnesses the happy snaps, reassured that your friend or family member has had a week of contentment. Busy, busy, busy. Loathe to stop and sit quietly with their thoughts. Running harder and faster, with a full calendar and mind. A fleeting sinking feeling might appear, and they acknowledge the hidden anger, grief, pain and sadness within their psyche. Who to tell? Everyone is so busy. Everyone has their own stuff. I have to keep it together. I don’t want to have my depression dismissed by platitudes. It wont help. When I was in the midst of grave depression, what did help was acknowledgement. A hug, and sharing a pot of tea. Going for a walk in the sunshine and talking to a friend. It is a tremendously brave thing to do, to share that you are in hell. So very brave.

One cannot keep depression at bay by running harder. You stumble, and the black dog awaits the fall. Maybe we need to have a revision of life, and how we do it. Simplify, go back to basics. Keep Sundays as a day of rest and of connecting. Give more hugs, be attuned to the subtle nuances of our other humans. Pare down the commitments and be with those who fill your heart. You can’t afford to be punctured, to leak as though you were a sieve. This is your life that is at stake. Anything and anyone that compounds the darkness, must go, at least for now. I regret that life is so difficult, and for some, too difficult. I have lost many loved ones to suicide. My heart still aches. If I could have breathed hope into them I would have. If you are suffering depression, and are dismissed by the first person you confide in, keep going. Go gently in this world, beautiful people. Too much activity is just as troubling as none. Balance. These are things I am learning. Robin, we love you. We cherish the legacy you left us. As I sit with my daughter in the years to come to watch your movies, I will tell her about you. Bless you always and ever, and our love to those whom you left on earth.