#ProjectPositive, September 12th. I feel good about myself today.

September 11, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

I feel good about myself today because…

Something just hit me. Do we need a reason? Do I feel good about myself because I lost 20 pounds, or because I am having a good hair day? Those things are transitory, and the thrill is lost within a short space of time. Does my feeling good about myself come down to such detritus, and if so, why? There has to be more; a solid foundation for self-esteem to flourish. I feel good about myself today because a friend (a very devoted friend), called out that she loved me from her car. I called back my adoration, and it left me with a smile. I walked two little girls into school, and enjoyed hearing their banter and giggles. I feel good about myself today because I actually remembered to feed myself breakfast, and felt I was worth the effort of preparing a juice. I feel good about myself because I cleared the calendar and have a day in the office to get paperwork completed so I don’t feel overwhelmed. I always feel good about myself when I look to the future and make preparations. There is nothing like laying your head on your pillow at night, knowing you have taken steps to prepare the road ahead. I have life insurance so my child is provided for, I have a budget for next week. I have my social plans on the calendar. These things make me feel good. I feel good that I caught myself this morning. I was watching the morning news when the Oscar Pistorius verdict flashed onto the screen. Not guilty… My breath caught in my chest, and a tightness gripped my lungs. Tears sprang in my eyes. I was overwhelmed with emotion, for Reeva’s family. I caught sight of the hurt and angry women’s right’s advocates gathered outside the courthouse. Some of these women had endured horrors of their own. One glimpse into their faces was all it took. “I got you,” I assured myself. I listened to Sia, and sat for a while, gathered my thoughts and concentrated on my breathing. I feel good about myself because I know what my triggers are. I know how to soothe the pain that bubbles up, and I know how to temper it. I refuse to turn away and be uninformed because of it, so I have had to devise tools to cope. The reasons I feel good about myself today have nothing to do with appearance. In fact, I am wearing mismatched socks (the only ones I could find), a men’s jacket found in an op-shop and old boots. The reason I feel good about myself is that I am hearing what I need, and providing it. Love, security, peace of mind, comfort.

#ProjectPositive, September 9th. Confidence.

September 8, 2014 raphaela993 Comments

Confidence isn’t what occurs after a haircut, manicure, purchasing new clothes. Those things are transitory and chewed up within a day of receipt. It cant be bought, and doesn’t depend on weight, nor a makeover. To have any lasting value, it must stem from within. If you don’t have it, that’s okay. A clean slate can easily have beautifully-scripted writing imbued on its surface. Make a list of all you value about yourself. Doesn’t matter what it is. Look at the positive qualities you radiate each day and all the great things you do, rather than the stuff-ups. When I see a confident person, I am mesmerized. It’s in the way they walk, the projection of their voice, the way they look you in the eyes. You can tell this person feels at ease within themselves and thus you relax too. They have a way of being. Every day, think about how valued you are, and the wondrous ripples you send out to us all. You are valued and treasured and this world would just not be the same without you. You can have complete confidence in that!

5th September, #Project Positive. Mirror, Mirror…

September 5, 2014 raphaela991 Comment

When I look in the mirror, I see…
A strong woman, and an impudent child. I look into my eyes and affirm, “look love, I know you haven’t had much rest. I know all about your pain. You can do today, you can! I will talk you through the steps, and even estimate how many hours it shall be before you get to have blessed rest. Remember how good it feels to lay down after a productive day? You can do this! You can!” That is the first thing I do every morning when looking in the mirror. I refuse to pay mind to creases and sags and wrinkles and pimples. If I wanted that sort of attention to detail, I would be sitting beneath either a cosmetician’s or plastic surgeon’s microscopic mirror. The eyes, and the smile, that is all that matters. As long as they are set for the day, the rest can be discounted. I pat a little jojoba or rosehip oil onto my visage, and off I go. I first saw my daughter studying her face in the mirror at six. Really studying it, as though they were becoming acquainted for the first time. I have her art and pretty hairbands and clips arranged around the rectangular bathroom mirror. I believe it is time to put up some affirmations too. I have practiced a lot of self-loathing in my time. I have starved myself and binged. When I was underweight, my parents said nothing. Scars and a rotund tummy were commented on, after weeks in bed after surgery. The state of my being after exiting a body cast. The puffiness of my face after steroid injections. Was I going to join the critique and wound myself further? No! I decided the most rebellious thing I could do was to discount the commentary, and certainly not join in. I have loved myself with stitches in my face, with black eyes, teeth that have fallen out due to medications, a body that gained a few stone and a body that became a puffer-fish. I decided that I had to love it all, or I wasn’t practicing self-love, rather conditional approval. It is tough and uncomfortable to look into your eyes at first. To say kind things to yourself. It won’t feel natural. I promise you, that if you keep doing it, it will become a ritual, performed without thinking. It helps to seal the wounds this world inflicts upon us. This world has enough critics. Become an encourager, and start with yourself!

September 4th, #Project Positive Challenge. The most valuable thing I’ve learnt is…

September 4, 2014September 4, 2014 raphaela991 Comment

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I have learnt many valuable things. The lessons bleed into each other, and are multi-levelled. You know, I think I understood more when I was younger. I think kids naturally "get it." We then get dulled by the world, our perceptions tarnished. Breakthroughs happen after breakdowns, big and small, and we are washed clean. Rainbows appear as does the knowledge that was always ours. Here are some valuable things I have learnt, re-learnt or am still learning.
1.You are going to be okay.
I wish I could travel back in time and reassure the girl (who was always afraid), that the life she dreams of will be hers one day. I wish I hadn’t spent so much time worrying. Now I say to myself, in three months (or three years), will this still be problematic? Everything comes to a conclusion.
2. Your perceptions are right.
I listen to my instincts when meeting people now, as in hindsight its always been proven correct. If I want to teach my child to follow her gut, then I have got to do likewise!
3. Everybody needs quietude.
We cant be all things to all people. I have tried! We need a quiet moment to ourselves regularly, just to check in.
4. I need to approve of myself, and there needs to be self-love, rather than self-loathing.
Intent is everything. I can exercise to flog my body, or to release endorphins to make myself feel great. I can raise a toast in celebration at a friend’s occasion, or drink to obliterate myself.
5. Regret nothing, as time is never wasted.
A love affair gone sour? It was sweet for a while, and provided nourishment for a time. Now it’s gone, its time to release and go onto another adventure. I have had the privilege of being with many folks, young and old, whilst they were letting go of this life. Sometimes I wonder if its only at the end that we can fully grasp the bigger picture of our lives and what it all meant. The people and places suddenly make sense. Hindsight can be a wonderful thing.
6. If I feel lousy, I must do something for someone else.
Whether that be a simple text message, sending a card, making a meal…
7. When depressed, I have to do the opposite of what I am feeling compelled to do.
If I feel like having a glass of wine, I have to have water. If I feel like eating nothing but crap, I will make soup. If I feel like climbing into bed, I will go for a walk. It speaks to the rebel within to defy the black dog’s compulsions.
8. Listen to other people, only when what they are saying resonates with you.
If I had listened to other people and taken their simplistic advice throughout the years, Raphie would have been kaput a long time ago! Nothing wrong with listening to yourself first and foremost!
9. Stop and rest.
You cant notice majesty when rushing around. You were made to be in this world, not do in this world. When I make time to stop and have a cuppa with a friend, walk or play with my child, my day is so much more pleasant and my head contains more clarity.
10. Ask yourself what it is that you want to happen.
Sometimes, I feel shocked when I enquire this of myself. Without unrefined goals and purpose, we can float along in a sea of inertia, overflowing with everyone’s input but our own.
11. Life can be bloody hard and really silly at times.
Find people who make you laugh, and whom you adore. At the end of it all, love is what’s real.
12. It’s okay to be angry.
Use it as a mighty force for change. Righteous indignation is a great energy to unfurl when we witness injustice. There are things happening here on earth that just aren’t right. We are allowed to be peeved. I was pissed off every day during my stint in rehab to learn how to walk, and it helped!
13. Be kind to yourself.
I think we are both stronger and more fragile than we give ourselves credit for. No more negative self-talk!

The Fountain (part two).

September 24, 2013June 26, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

I had been to a church service, and the people seemed friendly. It was mother’s day, and they had given each woman a lovely pair of earrings, which someone had made by hand. It warmed my heart. I was contacted by a lay preacher, and she invited me to a morning tea at a café with the ladies. I wanted to be connected, despite it being an evangelical church, with arms raised and eyes closed. Not a scene I was familiar with. Despite only being able to mumble, having my face bandaged, bruised and stitched, I decided to go. Hubby was going to drop me off, and mind our three year old daughter. The ladies gasped at my visage as I sat down, and smiled at this fragile creature. It was as though we were from two different planets. I was given a gift of a book written by one of their members, and said my thanks as I ordered a water. My back was turned to the fountain behind. A woman shrieked, “look at that little girl! Where on earth are her parents!” I turned slowly and saw my child completely saturated, in the fountain. “The water is dirty!” someone else chimed in. Hubby was trying to coax her out, to no avail. My free-spirited child was having the time of her life. In his flustered state, he finally handed over our dripping, shivering little girl to me, and hollered over his shoulder that he was going to duck into the shops to get her fresh clothes. He disappeared, and I shrouded my child in my coat as all chatter ceased. Awkwardness reigned, as did judgement. I felt exposed, not cut out for this particular group. I surveyed the perfect talons, the coiffed hair, the diamond rings and pressed outfits. It seemed like an age until hubby returned. It was the same week that he came back from an errand to the electrical store to buy a new speaker, and came back with a flat screen television and brackets, so our daughter could watch her shows from the comfort of her bed. He took it back on my insistence. As I slowly rose, I called out a meek farewell, and went off with my two ragamuffins. I drank wine that night, knowing I would not be courted by these ladies. I thanked the fountain, knowing that it had washed me clean. Clean of the misguided notion that I didn’t belong. Three years have passed. My scars have healed, and these two ragamuffins are by my side. These women are still having their coffee meetings. I was never invited to another.

The Fountain.

September 24, 2013June 26, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

I love how time allows us to revisit experiences that were cringe-worthy at the time. Those bloody-awful events which made us want to curl up in a ball when they happened. Three years ago, I had plastic surgery after removal of some tumours on my face. Long story short, I had been on high doses of hormones to try and reverse the premature menopause I found myself in. We wanted to try IVF, and give our daughter a sibling. Instead, I found myself with what I thought were warts. “Great, I really am a crone now,” I thought to myself. I thought they would be frozen off, but instead, I was sent to a skin specialist, and then found myself receiving plastic surgery. I was chattering in a deep and meaningful manner, under light sedation, completely off my trolley. Not helpful when one’s surgeon is attempting to do a flap repair and remove a tumour to one’s chin. “We will need to knock this girl out,” I heard. Then, they knocked me out. Over the next few days, I couldn’t speak, as I had stitches to my chin and forehead, two black eyes and a bandaged face.

I was waiting to see if these tumours were a nasty cancer, and also whether the HRT I had bombarded my system with had worked and I would be able to do IVF again. I would find out both sets of news at two different places on the same day. Feeling as though I had absolutely no control over my life, let alone the outcomes, I became desperate. Desperate to find my place. Desperate to feel connected. What happens next is why I view fountains with fondness.

My Book Launch.

August 14, 2013September 4, 2013 raphaela992 Comments

As a little girl, I had big dreams. I had a mighty future ahead of me. My family was fractured, and I hoped that if I was responsible enough, loving, kind and silent enough, we would get through the darkness, together. It was not to be. I could never have envisioned what was to come. The drug and alcohol abuse, domestic violence, sexual and physical abuse. The threat to send me away for finding my voice and relaying what was happening. The day they actually went through with their threat… This book wrote itself throughout those years. Scribbled on pieces of paper were each wound, with dates and times. Stuffed under my mattress. If I lived, I would tell. For the sake of condensing my story, I couldn’t relay all that went on, and there was a lot! What was more pressing was to relay that a young girl was hurt, desperately. At thirteen, she tried to take her life for the first time, such was her despair. She was treated as rubbish, and ignored by those who could have helped her. Rubbing two cold stones together, she produced a spark. From that spark, grew a flame. She wouldn’t listen to these people, abusing her, stripping the marrow from her bones. What the hell did they know about faith, about love, about her? Nothing. They knew nothing of themselves either. She decided to create a rich internal world, where the good guys win, and girls like her actually get to grow up. The past two decades have been a tumultuous ride toward healing. Nightmares and scores of operations. Pain and hope. The one thing that she never did was listen to the echoes of her abusers, the stinging words, which rattled about in her mind. What the hell did they ever know about her? That frightened girl, who used to lock herself in the linen cupboard whilst waiting for the police to arrive, who dreamed of leaving and being adopted into a stable family. That girl is me. I got to grow up! I have a wonderful husband, who has been through the inferno with me, often charging in ahead to take the brunt of the blows. I have a miracle daughter. I am blessed. I pray that this is never allowed to happen to another kid. Last year, I discovered that two other girls, one nineteen, and one sixteen, were abused in this clinic. One suicided. This is why I am speaking out. I got to grow up, and so many that I shared this story with, didn’t. I speak for them. Thankyou from the depths of my soul, Jo and Barry. I sent a proposal off, moved house and a year or so passed. One night, I was awoken with a deep need to check the spam box in my email. I was scrolling down, when I saw an email from JoJo Publishers. They wanted to talk with me! If I hadn’t checked my spam, I would never have known… Thankyou to Anne Van Alkemade, an amazing editor and now dear friend. Thankyou to beautiful Meldi and Ariel bookshop for all of your work and incredible kindness. Thankyou to Don Smith from the White Ribbon Foundation for speaking tonight, and Brian Bell for your wondrous poem. Thankyou to Suzanne Grae for supporting the White Ribbon Foundation, and dressing me for the launch. Thankyou to all my beautiful family here tonight. I love you all deeply. Thankyou to Tommy and Lizzie, for always believing in me. I am a blessed woman. I got to grow up.

PTSD.

July 31, 2013June 26, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

As a toddler, I had night terrors, the peculiar feeling of being cognizant of forces at play which can be felt in sleep. Terrorized to the point of screaming. They faded as I grew. Now, I suffer PTSD, as a result of having lived a dark dream. To confront the places of terror, and rewrite my own endings, was my weapon of choice. Many years ago, I revisited places of trauma. Instead of being left bloodied, broken and half-dead, my husband could recite a poem, I could leave flowers, and I could walk away. Not a speck of blood upon me. It rewrote the script, and I felt stronger. Over many years, I began to heal. It is a process, a series of steps. Walking to the letterbox whilst an unfamiliar car with a driver was parked outside was a moment of triumph. Listening to a song which once hooked me into the past was cause for rejoicing. Climbing a staircase, picking up my phone… Learning to be a functioning human.

The past few weeks have been tough. I have retreated somewhat, which fills me with pain, though not surprise. I have had a book published which details my dark dream. The media have interviewed me for hours on end, dredging up every painful moment, then leaving me to deal with the fallout. I was on a train with my daughter, travelling into the city for a day out. As we approached the station in the suburb where one of my villain’s lives, I could suddenly see his face. I could smell him. I recalled his deep guttural voice and the hollow eyes which contained no depth. He was there in that carriage. The other day, it was the anniversary of my fall. The day that changed everything. The reason I have had to pay a few home deposits to surgeons, the reason my kidneys are damaged and I self-catheterize. The reason I had to have a caesarean and was in unbelievable pain in pregnancy. The reason my daughter has to adapt to having a mother who needs to lie down mid-way through the day and can’t do all the physical activities other mums do with their kids. The reason I cry in the shower each morning from pain, so my daughter can’t hear.

A friend met me at my gym and we worked out together. We screwed up at our noses as a smelly, muscle man lifted weights, then had lunch together. I was so grateful she was there with me, my friend. I took my daughter to her singing lesson, and delighted in hearing her practice her scales. I chatted to the teacher’s grandmother, and revelled in discussing the frivolous subject of candles. I had dinner at the shopping centre with my child and husband and did the groceries. Songs from the past came over the speaker, and I was furious. Why tonight? Why are they playing songs he collected and strung together in a cloying, threatening mix-tape? I got home and burst into tears. The distraction of the day was over. I was here with my soul and my body’s cellular memories. Grateful and sorrowful at the same time. How could I not be thankful? Somebody wanted to kill me and yet I am still here. I have married, and had a spectacular child. I have a multitude of friends who love me deeply and I them. I laugh often and much and am resilient. Nothing much shakes me, certainly not the little hiccups in life. Thankyou! Thankyou! Thankyou!

Sorrow… Hmm, I have that too. As a mother, I grieve for that child, put in an impossible situation and left to fend for herself. She did the best she could. She screams within my heart that somebody hurt her, and it’s not fair. No, it’s not fair my darling. I will spend the rest of my life loving you, and protecting you as best I can. Memories get stirred up, songs are played. Something on the news reminds me of yesterday. I try to take each moment as it comes. Right now, my husband and daughter are playing with our baby guinea pigs, and I am in the office, listening to the sweet trill of my budgerigar, Cuddles, who has decided to join me. This moment is all that matters right now.

The Myriad Ways.

July 29, 2013June 26, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

Writing my book was one of the hardest things I have undertaken in life. I am a dreamer, a poet. My friends call me a fairy, and it is true. I have a tenuous footing on the earth, and feel more connected to the stars. I love kid’s movies and art. Having the pull in my soul to write a book fused in stark reality, stripped of fairy-tale nuances has been hard. A big message within the pages is to never let anyone measure your worth. Whether they be the flatterers or the persecutors, they have an angle and it is skewed. I have tried to allow my worth and merit to bubble up from a well deep inside my soul. Yet, upon reflection, there are myriad ways I, and many others, sabotage that clear spring filled with self-belief and self-worth. The fears that come up at night. The coffee I drink when I am already jittery. The choice to drink that extra glass of wine that leaves me feeling retched the next day. Not putting aside time to meditate, to exercise or even breathe deeply into my lungs. Picking up junk and ingesting it when my body needs nourishment in the form of a decent meal I actually sit down to eat. So many unconscious acts which pollute that spring. I am tired of sabotaging my energy, my clarity and health. I don’t wish to go through life habitually. I shall do what I can to make the best choices for my body. Despite everything, despite the wounds rained down on this body, I still believe in it and the soul it houses. I have to start proving it.