Alone Behind a Panel of Glass

July 25, 2015 raphaela9911 Comments

So it began… I didn’t know what to feel. There isn’t a guide-book for this stuff. I am inherently joyous, with a permanent grin on my face, and a naughty sense of humour. That is who I am. It is decidedly at odds with some of my life’s experiences. I haven’t been on social media this week, only to wish people a Happy Birthday. I feel alone, terribly alone. I have averted my eyes from the happy snaps at gatherings I didn’t attend. I feel like I am behind a pane of glass, able to see life occurring, but unable to participate.

It wasn’t a ten second fall from a building… It was also the events leading up to it, and the way my life changed afterward. The sense of loneliness never leaves me. I spent my last week before the fall in a room lit by a bare light globe. There was barely enough light to read by. It was freezing cold and I shivered underneath my threadbare blanket. I was so lonely. I worried about what would become of me. I was fifteen years old.

Last night, I didn’t sleep. I had memories of the 36 hours I was held in a flat, the grills on the windows, the deadlock on the door. 36 hours is an interminably long while to wait to see how your story will play out. I was alone with a monster. Music, smells, sounds, conversations, all replaying over and over again in my mind. The world outside carrying on just as it did in the street outside that flat.

Today, the sun shot through the window of my living room. It speared the sun-catcher, and it shot rainbows throughout my home. My daughter made snow flakes from paper, and delighted in telling me that each was different and special, much like people.

We went for a walk to the park, and I sat in the sun. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, so busied myself on the phone. A few dear friends messaged and asked how I was doing. I appreciated their kindness. Time doesn’t make anniversaries such as this any better. Being a mother myself has actually made it worse. I can’t imagine my child enduring this, any of it. I met these ladies, and we went for a late lunch. It was wonderful to be brought back to the present, to talk about our lives and to show each other funny images of cute bunnies and guinea pigs. To forget for a while.

I am so used to the loneliness stemming from that time in my life, and so afraid of rejection, that I don’t tend to initiate a get-together. I don’t think I could bear being hurt again. These ladies cut through the glass pane. I don’t know what I want at times. I want company, though desire to be alone. It is confusing and tiring. I keep people at bay, fearing abandonment. I love with all my heart, but keep my own counsel. I have developed a whimsical, light-hearted character, but it is merely a part I play. There is a child locked inside my soul, who is facing it all alone. When I look back on that time, it is the loneliness that has had the most impact. Being a child dealing with adults who are playing games you haven’t been taught. Trying to save your life all by yourself. Trying to keep other people from being hurt. Trying to stay sane in the process.

This past weekend, I was attempting to conceal what these days meant. “What is the date Mummy?” my daughter asked as she filled out her workbook. “The 24th of July,” I whispered. I watched her squeal with joy as she rode her bike, ringing her bell along the bike track. Smiling and tearing up, and greeting passers-by and dissociating. It is hard letting it all unravel as it demands to. There’s not a thing I can do to make the pain stop. I have to sit with it, walk it out, play with my daughter and cry in the shower. I am so grateful to the ladies who met with me, and provided balm to my wounds. We didn’t talk about the anniversary and didn’t need to. They knew and I knew they knew. That was enough. I wasn’t alone. That was more than enough. On the 26th July, I will open my eyes and smile, just as I did on that date many years ago. I was battered and battle-scarred, but I was here.

Vivid

May 27, 2015May 27, 2015 raphaela994 Comments

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.

One Day…

March 25, 2015 raphaela994 Comments

I met a complicated lady at the bus stop when my daughter was a baby. She was beautifully dressed, her hair coiffed. She had a cigarette dangling from her mouth and a haunted expression on her face. Our friendship grew over the years, and she delighted me with the wondrous and unexpected things that came out of her mouth. She excitedly told me one day that she had been to a sale at the local chemist shop. “What did you buy?” I asked. She retrieved the bag, and pulled out a tube of Vagisol, “for this old vag of mine!” she roared with laughter. The poor man sitting next to her at the bus stop went beet-red. I gave her some money for her fare, and a few day’s later I found a chemist bag in my letterbox. In it contained a thankyou note, the money I had leant her, and as I tremulously pulled out a box from the bag (thinking it was leftover Vagisol), I found a small bottle of perfume.

She came to my door a few weeks ago, and asked me to put on the kettle. We sat in silence for a bit, before she said “it’s the anniversary of when my mum died. I didn’t want to be alone.” I gave her a big cuddle, and she left with a tin of bikkies. We saw her on Monday. She called out to me in the street. Her arms and legs shook so severely, it appeared as though she were having a seizure. She said she had been in hospital. My little girl was concerned, and I explained that sometimes when people drink too much over a long time, they get the DT’s. “I wish we could make it go away,” she said. I do too. I have a sense that this lady’s mind holds many traumatic memories. She has been trying to drown them in alcohol and the mesmerizing light and sound spectacle poker machines offer. A well-dressed lady with a colourful array of hats, missing teeth, a cheeky grin and a complicated back story. We love you. I pray you are with us for some time yet.

You Sent Butterflies.

March 11, 2015March 11, 2015 raphaela992 Comments

Serena, I remember when you won the pair of purple boots. You were so thrilled. You used to win everything you entered, though in the end, you lost your life. You had an eventful life, and some parts of it were bitterly unfair. You found comfort in butterflies. They were your totem, fluttering about whenever we walked or sat at the park. I gave you a purple butterfly mobile on your last birthday.

Every year we did the Challenge Walk together, me complaining as we reached the peak which held a painted blue tree. Dead, yet alive. You would laugh, and point to the wrong flag, convincing me that I had done more km’s than I had. I fell for it every time. 2014 was to be our last year together on the walk. If I had known that, I would have hugged you tighter upon meeting, shouted you lunch afterward and organized a band. This year, one of our beautiful friend’s and her girls joined us. We acutely felt your absence, and I kept looking for you. So many women with cedar hair looked like you from the back. The girls and I chatted, and we laughed. We fell silent and then talk turned to you. We were followed by butterflies the whole 6km’s. I wanted to cry, and scream at the unfairness of a young woman leaving this earth halfway through her life. I did so inside my mind; silently, respectfully. As long as butterflies remain in the world, so shall you. I anticipate bumping into you wherever I go. Instead, I am surrounded by butterflies and memories. I signed up for 12km’s by accident. You would have found that hysterically funny. When the time came to continue on, or pull out, I hid my registration details under the bag I was carrying, so I wouldn’t be forced to go around again. I had seen my butterflies and that was enough.

We came home and put our blingy slippers on.

The Dawn’s.

October 27, 2014October 27, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

Dawn and I. Didn’t know the camera was on video!

I have the privilege of having two Dawn’s in my life. Both are in their sixties, with artistic leanings and a feisty spirit. They haven’t had it easy. The first Dawn is featured above. We didn’t know that my phone was turned to video! I love her smile, and the spectacular way she dresses. I first met Dawn at the local bus stop when my daughter was a baby. Every time I go down the street, I bump into this magnificent lady. I sometimes loan her money, and a few days later, find it in my letterbox, along with a little gift. My little girl is often the recipient of chocolate or some other sweet treat, and wraps her arms tight around her Aunty Dawn. We gave her a lift home from the supermarket the other night, and she asked us to hold on for a moment when we reached her house.

She came out with this dear little notepad, on which she had written an invitation to her birthday celebrations. Lizzie was thrilled, as was I.

Our other friend is Dawn De Ramirez. She ran away and joined the circus as an adolescent, becoming their trapeze artist, travelling through Europe. Her future husband, Raffael, was the cook, and they married during this time. I met her when she judged the first poetry competition I entered. She rang me and we talked from the heart, something we continue to this day. She is a born entertainer, and an advocate for Aboriginal youth at risk of suicide. Dawn travelled to England a few years back, and was able to fund her adventures by passing around a hat at every pub she stopped at. It is such a blessing for my daughter to have the two Dawn’s in her life, providing colour, whimsy, poetry, art and kindness. The characters of this world shake us up with their authenticity. It is brave to be yourself in all your glory, to like who are and how you go about life.

‘I’m Bored.’

‘Say Cheese.’

#ProjectPositive, September 10th. Friends and Family.

September 9, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

Friends and family say that I’m… I asked my daughter and one of the first words that came to mind was stubborn. She reminded me that in all situations, we look at each other, and state our motto, “the Angelou girls never give in, and never give up!” It has held me in good stead over the years, and I am sure stubbornness shall treat my daughter well too. I must say, that we are flexible, and despite having a fused spine, my spirit is capable of bending like a reed (at least one part of me is bendy!) Not only do I love listening to other’s viewpoints and beliefs, I am able to respect them. Stubbornness and flexibility, a good combo! My friends and family are spectacular! Unconditional love springs forth from them all, and I know I am valued. Great people… Back to stubbornness; I implore you to never let go of what you know you are meant to do. I started writing my book when I was an adolescent. Making notes, getting the events clear in my mind. When I lay flat on the rotorbed for months, I questioned why I had survived. When I slept, I dreamt of holding a book. Writer, I had to become a writer! I sent the book away when I was pregnant with my daughter, and it was accepted. The dear fellow had a small publishing company, and his sister had actually been in the same clinic as detailed in the book. We worked on the book together, then I received a call. My publisher had died suddenly. Crestfallen, the manuscript was put away. I sent it again when my daughter was two, and it was picked up by an international publisher. Then, the financial crisis hit. The accounting department were reluctant to spend any money on publicising a new author. I posted it off again, then moved house. A year later, I woke at midnight, and felt compelled to look in the spam email box! I didn’t know why the hell I was doing so, until I spotted it. It was from the publisher I had last sent the synopsis to. It said that they had tried my home number and address and if I wanted to be published with them, to please call! The spam were just about to be discarded! As I said, stubbornness and never letting go of dreams has worked well for me.

Eccentric. I can’t ignore this one! I dance to my own beat, a beat others can’t hear and I can only detect faintly. Still, it is there, and I must follow it. I talk to animals, and every night, when it is time to put my little birds to bed, I call out “birdie bedtime!” The budgies climb back into their house and onto their double swing and wait for me to close the door. The canaries and finches hop up to their perches and fluff up. I have my funny little ways. My friends can’t miss me down the street, as I am always colourful, even when I try to be demure.

I would lay down my life not only for a friend or family member, but also a stranger. In fact, that has nearly happened a few times. I am glad I did what I felt was right. So there you have it, stubborn, eccentric and willing to sacrifice everything. I make my daughter laugh, and am both irreverent and cheeky. After a long battle to reclaim my core, I like who I am.

Raphaela’s Companions-Nicci Peverill

August 28, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

Nicci Peverill owns Cupcakes in Camden, and runs food tours via her site, Made in Macarthur As if those two endeavours aren’t enough, she is also a resident writer at In Macarthur Magazine She is a whimsical nature spirit, resplendent with colour and art, flowers and fairies. “Often my biggest risks turn into my biggest triumphs!” She was born across the ditch in Auckland, and came to Australia at 27. She moved into Camden three years ago, and everybody has fallen in love, both with Nicci and her cakes! She has degrees in psychology and zoology, and after having her gorgeous daughter Liv, she brought her small business to fruition. She did an inventory of all the equipment she would require, and then practiced and refined recipes. “If you are determined, and have a love for something, anything is possible!”
She has a love of nature, and bakes from her heart, using natural resources. She is a storyteller, and clients open up to her, knowing their hearts are safe. It isn’t just about cake, but rather building a story around this ancient tradition. There is an affiliation between life and baking “Every wedding story that I tell- every event that I bake for- I really try and capture the personality of the people, whether it’s through a colour or a flavour. Food and emotion go together and food brings people together. I try to make the cake interactive. It’s not just about putting cake on the table.” She loves experimenting with flavours, and is a gluten-free expert, baking for local gourmet haven, The Epicure Store

Persian Love Cake and Salted Caramel Brownie.

I asked what triggered Nicci’s love of baking. “My grandmother did loads of baking for her family. It’s always been a love of mine. I looked at the skills that I had, I was pretty determined!” I asked Nicci about how she unwinds, as one of the challenges of running a home business is that you are always accessible. “I have to be strict with myself. I do really simple things. Livi and I go on nature walks after school. We also escape Camden and travel to the city or Southern Highlands, normally outdoors and centred around food, shared with other people. Every morning, gear yourself up with a good attitude. You might not feel great each day, but it is how you conduct yourself. Life is not an easy thing. You need to look after yourself. I see a lot of people not doing that. I think it is the most important thing, as a woman operating in society with all its demands. We have to take time out to look after our wellbeing, physically and emotionally. Most of the time I am pretty good at doing that, but other times I have to remind myself. It is having that awareness there.” There is a family link to depression. Nicci’s father was a Vietnam Vet who came back from the conflict with deep depression. When he passed away, she went through a dark time. She forced herself to get out into the world, rather than retreat. “It’s the natural stuff which helped, exercise and friendships.” She has a very happy life today. “So many people get bogged down with everyday life. You see it and you want to tell them!”

What is your vision for the next year?
“There are some amazing people who have moved into the area. I think it’s really started to change Camden, and we are on the creative map! Growing my gluten-free baking range. I always want to be a small boutique operation where people can come and get an old-fashioned cake. I will continue to experiment!” I have no doubt this cake artiste shall do all this and more. I am honoured to have a friend of such generous spirit, wisdom, love and laughter in my life.

Nina and my Magnanimous Gift.

May 20, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

My bolshy mate Nina had foot surgery last year. She was desperate to get out, after being housebound for weeks. Knowing she couldn’t walk and was on crutches-her foot needing elevating- I decided to gift her tickets to Les Mis on Boxing Day, when we would be amongst the first to see it in Sydney. Nothing was too good for my friend, so I got the best tickets to the Premiere theatre. Envisioning recliner chairs, and ease of mobility, we ventured out. The first hurdle was navigating her enormous foot and crutches up the narrow escalator of the shopping centre. Phew! We were then informed that the “special” cinema was down three flights of stairs, no lift at all. Bloody hell! We were laughing and she thanked me profusely for my “special gift.” I was making her earn Les Mis. She was sweating and breathless from the effort when we completed the task. Snacks in hand, we sat down, only to have the loudest American on earth squeeze in next to us. We had no recliners, and she had to prop up her crutches to keep her foot elevated. The American needed the lavatory right before it started, so she had to reposition herself yet again. He came back and again she had to move. Right when Fantine sings “I Dreamed a Dream,” the American’s food came. “Bloody hell!” she cursed as the usher made his way past. His orders of wine and other beverages then arrived, followed by dessert. It was a long three hours. Nina cried and I offered her tissues. She pondered how much food and beverage a bloke required during a movie. She psyched herself up for the ridiculous walk to the toilets. Nina is a hero of mine. She was an anchor during the horrid year of IVF cycles.
Her daughter and mine will be friends for life, much like Nina and I.

I am at Peace.

June 19, 2013December 30, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

Today, I am at peace. Nothing in particular has happened to procure this feeling. Rather, it stems from the many smiles, hugs and kindnesses my beautiful friends have bestowed on me. I am humbled by their kindness. They ask after my husband, and I am delighted to say that he is not drinking, and is well. To those who walked with me the years in the wilderness, fearing my husband would be lost not only to me, but to the world, I thank you. If I could write your names across the sky, I would. Texts and gifts, meals and lifts. Listening ears and open hearts. It has all meant so much. We still have a way to travel in our marriage and in ourselves, but your kindness has helped make the path easier under our feet. xxx

Birds and women

May 7, 2013June 26, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

I have five little birds. They are glorious creatures, whom live in my laundry. Two are finches, two are budgies and there is a canary. A breeder told me that they should not be put together, that they don’t get along. I left the choice up to them, opening up the houses (we don’t call them cages around here), so they could play freely. They care about each other. The others look on lovingly as the finches gather feathers and celery leaves to assemble a bed. Setrena the canary trills at the window whilst the budgies preen each other. Harmony. Even their songs collect inside a singing bowl like molten honey, the sound concordant. If a little pixie was in charge (me), women might be like these birds. Intrigued by each other’s customs and way of doing things. Lovingly looking on as one of their own is praised or elevated. Sharing from the same seed bowls, and being generous with each other. No gossiping, irritation, cliques or other such nonsense. If women were like birds…