Single Same Sex Supporter

One thing people ask me when they have not seen me for a while, is always the same. The ‘Have you met anyone?’ question, and it is prompting me to write this post under a rainbow screen banner representing this site’s support of marriage equality. I know people in general mean well and want me to find love, but after 12 years of being on my own, I feel like society cannot accept that I am a complete person if I don’t have a partner, and what if I found someone who was a woman?

The facts are I have been a single parent who has brought up 3 children on my own and did fine without a male partner managing day to day in life. My kids are what I could classify as normal, well adjusted and intelligent adults and all have excelled in all they have chosen to do. I have a career, a house and a worthy life but apparently I am not a complete success as a female unless I have someone to hang on my arm and attach myself with. Sometimes when I correct my salutation to Ms, I can see a rising chagrin and judgement in the person I am dealing with. You might laugh off such simple observances on my part, as being hypersensitive but when you are used to being judged and discriminated against as a single parent it is no surprise to me that the ‘we think we are the moral majority’ are largely representatives of the less tolerant in our society.

I am a strong, single woman who would welcome someone to care for me emotionally but I really do not need a man to make my life complete, better or fulfilled. In contrast to my  increasing acceptance of being on my own I have been observing and listening to the arguments put forth to thwart the marriage equality campaign and it saddens me that many Australians cannot separate church and state, and that there is an argument that children need male and female parents AND this really gets to me! Ask some of the single mothers or fathers out there in Oz if single sex parenting damages children, and the answer is no. Sure we wish our marriages had not broken down, ended in divorce and that our kids had the opportunity of two committed loving parents  living together raising them but the argument for no in this postal survey based on children needing two parents of different sexes is shameful. The denigration of every single parent in Australia is made with the voicing of these reprehensible opinions. Voting is simply a personal indication of whether the marriage act should be changed.

I hope the $122 million dollars spent on the postal survey demonstrates that Australians value their role in commencing a bill in parliament where the government will eventually change the Marriage Act to define marriage as- the union of two people to the exclusion of all others, voluntarily entered into for life.  Love isn’t mentioned in the legislation as law is not emotive but factual. Guaranteed, if the law eventually is changed that couples will not be vying for Cardinal Pell or any other ‘in the news’ Catholic priest to conduct their marriage. Those who are gay and christian, I hope you one day find a religious minister or chaplain who will be privileged under law and with blessing perform your marriage.

November 15 the postal survey results will be released and we will see if now is the time for witnessing a social revolution in Australia, and we may witness a change of attitude in our nation, where discrimination is lessened, that love is seen as love- inclusive, tolerant and accepting. However, I think we have a long way to go. But amazingly in my lifetime, the Berlin Wall did come down, Nelson Mandela was freed, many world borders changed, and many wars began, ended and millions died as a result of ethnic cleansing, genocide, disease and starvation. Voting to join 23 countries around the world- such as Canada, Spain, Norway, Ireland, France, Denmark, England, Sweden, South Africa and close by our neighbour, New Zealand, in legally supporting same sex marriage is not going to cause devastation.  Even in Trump’s strangely conservative USA, same sex marriage is legal. So value the opportunity to celebrate love, and vote with deliberation and reason,  not discrimination. In 23 other countries discrimination in regards to being homosexual and in love is legally not tolerated and changing the law to allow same sex marriage might aid greater acceptance and tolerance in our community. I hope.

Gratitude

Sometimes it is a few special people in your life who teach you more about yourself than you had thought.  Gratitude is the emotion of thankfulness and rather than being what I would call “happy” being grateful is what I am. I have experienced so much joy in my life but also sadness and this past week I have found myself at the beach, at some of the most stunning on the east coast and as I have sat and felt the sun on my back, I am reminded and prompted to be grateful. Health, family, friends and nature are the ingredients in my gratitude journey and I am grateful for all of them in making my daily life wonderful.

1. Health- At the moment I am experiencing what it is like to get older and not be able to do all the things I used to easily do.  Using my hands for nearly everything I do I have had to change many of my daily living habits and my teaching job and how I manage it is suddenly in question. My hands can’t quite do what they used to and going to the bathroom, washing my hair and even writing have been a challenge of late, so I’m grateful I can one finger tap on my laptop and phone. Doing up my bra, cooking like a chef, stacking the dishwasher and basic housework are suddenly debilitating and I’m like an 80 year old literally in my success in the pinch and hand grip tests at the physio.  The culprit is arthritis and why I’ve had a massive flair up I’m sure can be pinned on the flu vaccination I had. Although technically the evidence based deduction is that my flu shot would not cause an arthritic flare up- my intuition tells me the inflammation in my immune system from the vaccination set off an inflammatory trigger. Having had a mild traumatic brain injury two years ago, it tested my health and well being and thankfully clean living, a healthy diet, regular exercise and daily doses of nature have helped me overcome the debilitating mental fog and chronic pain as a result of my injury. It has been little steps every day and some days were dark but the restorative power of sleep, meditation, sun, yoga and time have helped me and my brain fully recover. Two years on I can say I am all good- brain wise at least, then my hands decided to test my patience and make me question what I am doing with my life. Note to self is no more contact with anything that will inflame my immune system. 

Brain and neck injuries are complex and the trauma to my neck and head set off certain triggers in my body. Thankfully I have faith in a few key professionals, like my physiotherapist, chiropractor and massage therapist who all work their own magic to help me live as pain free as possible. There was a time when I was addicted to pain killers. Dealing with and managing chronic pain whilst holding a stressful job is difficult and this past term has been tough, really tough. Painkillers, cortisone and gratitude have got me through some difficult days and I hope that the debilitating days of chronic pain are long gone. The health remedies I take, combined with resilience are so far keeping me mostly healthy and whilst cortisone is seen as a no go by some – the pain in my joints welcomes this temporary magic.

2.Friends- I have lovely friends and they help me through my days in ways that I am grateful for. One of my friends is in a difficult place at the moment and in messaging her,  I in turn have become even more grateful for my health and well being. I don’t have a lot of friends but the ones I do have are gold and each one of them is special in the qualities they bring to our relationship. I have a desire to be the type of friend I would like in my life and not having a sister or huge support network in my life, it is my friends whom have been my angels. 

Mindfulness has been a huge factor in my managing my well being and health and each day I am more in tune with just the moment of time I am experiencing and showing compassion to myself is my new mantra. I am learning to be my own best friend and be grateful for just being. I have always overcome obstacles and telling myself they will pass has always been one way I have managed in my life.

3. Family- I am so grateful for my children. In fact I am blessed. They are the most amazing humans and as I reflect on the awesome people that they are, I can now relax and celebrate the hard work in bringing them up. In fact I have learned to sit back and say wow I did an awesome job but I also recognise I’m exhausted. My body I have realised needs to rest, it has experienced huge stresses in life and my immune system can no longer deal with the demands of a stressful life. As a single mum I have worked fucking hard – there is no other way to say it. There was no time to feel sorry for myself in the past fourteen years and anyone who thinks I didn’t have it tough- just remember sometimes the people who say the least are often going through the most. It also takes a village to raise a child and my village of people was awesome.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger they say and the warrior that I am knows that there are so many things to be grateful for. Humility is one quality I have passed on to my children and the successes I have in my life are not due to luck or good fortune but bloody hard work, grit, resilience and masses of unending commitment. I am a Taurean and being stubborn might be a negative Taurean trait but not giving in and being determined are positives to developing resilience and rather than shoutout my success in dealing with all sorts of challenges in life, I humbly turn up and live my life each day whilst always being thankful for what I do have. I see this in my children and it is a blessing to see them succeed beyond expectation and to be humble in doing so.

Regret is a wasted emotion but there are things in life I would change if I could. My integrity has stood alongside me in many moments and thankfully I do not have any huge regrets. Sometimes, I wish I could tell my conscience and integrity to bugger off and let me do what my head and heart most desires but I know that the person I am does not choose to inflict pain or be deliberate in hurting another and I have the wisdom of life experience to tell me that some choices we make in life are not worth it. Fantasy is always prettier than reality and I have faith in the universe, myself and serendipity, so with my integrity intact I can continue to live with hope and dream.

So, as I ruminate on my life I am so grateful to have lived with my adoptive family in Australia, to have foolishly but resolutely got married at 21, had my children young, and at 51 I know my freedom as an unencumbered mostly healthy person is just beginning and for that I am so very grateful.

Thrive and survive

Stoicism –  in the ancient Roman and Greco world the philosophy of thriving in stressful situations was founded. Zeno spread the word from the colonnades and porches of Greece,  Seneca branded it, Marcus Aurelius battled with it,  relied on it and thankfully penned it, George Washington lived it, Nelson Mandela not only used it to survive his imprisonment he carried and delivered his courage, vision and freedom to millions.

Hedonism is the school of thought that pleasure and happiness are the most important aims in life. Think Caligula, Marie Antoinette and other Monarchs, Jordan Belfort in the Wolf of Wall Street and I know you can think of someone in your life who aspires to hedonism. 

Humanity needs more courageous people following stoic principles and far less egocentric hedonists. Hmm, wonder what world leaders in 2017 we could label egocentric hedonists?  

In every community there are men and women,  who act with courage, use wisdom, show temperance and strive for justice. Resilience is developed out of learning to survive difficult times – stoicism is a defence to manage and thrive in life. Teaching how to be courageous involves understanding it is okay to make mistakes- we learn from them. It’s about not giving up but trying again. As a teacher and also as a parent I encourage having a go, trying and mastering learning often from mistakes. Problem solving is the most fundamental part of learning. Analysing thoughts, life experiences and dealing with consequences is all part of developing one’s own wisdom and being courageous is not about skydiving, although I think anyone who does is, it’s about facing challenges and taking a stand- using integrity and standing firm in your conviction. Yes, it is about overcoming fears but not always. To be courageous in spirit is to give of yourself no matter how difficult, to use the power of will to overcome challenges. 

Viktor Frankl, Holocaust survivor, neurologist and psychiatrist knew the power of will in finding meaning in life, he knew it was essential to thriving. Teaching patients and lecturing on creatively, experientially and attitudinally finding meaning in life rather than hedonistically  seeking pleasure in the pursuit of  happiness was his brand of psychiatry- logotherapy and it applies the principles of stoicism. 

Learning to use experiences, utilising strengths and minimising weaknesses, applying the art of problem solving, using resources available and establishing and creating solutions is how I have sought to live life. It is the premise of my surviving difficult times and what I actually teach to teenagers every day. Practising and training myself in mindfulness allows me to accept each day and experience as it unfolds. I have fought over many years to quell my anxiety and it is focusing on one day at a time that has helped me the most. Learning to just live in the moment and enjoy it is an art and the Buddhist way of life is one in which suffering is accepted, moral principles of integrity are applied and courage, patience, tolerance, intelligence, compassion and flexibility are encouraged and developed. 

Seeing the sunset and watching the sheer beauty of each day slip away ready for the beauty of the everchanging night sky is part of my daily thankfulness. Living daily in such beauty makes me grateful and it aids me in calming whatever is internally troubling me. It allows me to dream and seek new possibilities every single day. Finding a visual or sensory experience that invokes gratitude is all part of thriving. 

Happiness is what we all perhaps hope for in our lives as our nirvana but teaching and learning how to be resilient and cope with challenges and just deal with and get through difficult moments, as unscathed as possible is essential. Teaching and developing resilience is about experiencing hard times, it is about letting students make mistakes and to reward with acknowledgment achievement and encouraging others to persevere to achieve end goals.  It is about learning in difficult times and appreciating that everything is not always easily attainable. Attitudinal flexibility and reflective thinking in our schools needs developing more than ever as does commitment, grit and acceptance. 

As I reflect on the elected leaders on the world stage there are a range of compassionate, authoritarian, democratic  and stoic leaders and then there are the others. The cringeworthy leaders all share traits we don’t wish to encourage. Ego drives too many of our leaders in workplaces, schools and communities. 

Let’s hope we can support and encourage as parents, teachers and mentors individuals who are resilient, compassionate, intelligent, can accept and deal with challenge, learn in difficult times, develop wisdom, manage their emotions and most of all be grateful. Encouraging our youth to live and thrive not just for hedonistic purposes but accepting that there will always be dark and light, joy and sadness and we need to teach that life is about more than finding and seeking pleasure or happiness, it is also about learning to live through emotional and mental challenges. In schools and communities- anxiety, depression, mental illness and well being are challenges that need addressing and also they need to be accepted rather than stigmatised. 

Teaching has become so much more than delivering curriculum to students. In my educational toolkit I have a combination of content knowledge, expertise in design and applying design and inquiry thinking and learning, a mix of stoicism, Buddhism, mindfulness and wisdom. My effectiveness as a teacher and parent comes from years of knowing how to develop relationship in classrooms and to bring out the best in people. My skills will always be secondary to my resilience, or ability to thrive in life. Will power and determination are traits I have developed and with stoicism I hope I empower others to discover their own personal meaning and role in life.

Fundamentally, to thrive and survive in the 21st century the principles of living life with a Buddhist and stoic philosophy and  realising that what awaits you in the future is simply possibility. When you look at the universe and life, no two days or skies are ever the same and dreams possibly can come true, but it does take commitment to achieve any worthwhile goal. 

 ‘For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me want to dream.’ Vincent Van Gogh 

‘Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them’ – Marcus Aurelius

Letting your love out

Famous love stories are full of joy, tragedy, despair, elation, passion, adultery and usually some form of god damn unrequited love. True love, history and life have proven never to be straightforward, black and white or simple. The tempestuous or romanticised relationships of Antony and Cleopatra, Romeo and Juliet, Lancelot and Guinevere, Rhett and Scarlett, Daisy and Gatsby, Mulder and Scully, Elizabeth Bennett and Mr Darcy set standards for measuring passion, longevity, challenges, or the undefinable rules of love. Measurement of love success in my case, my grandparents and my parents is in the failure of enduring to honour the ‘until death do us part’ of marriage. Love I have come to appreciate is not equated with marriage and my generational history is clouded in the prophecies of lost relationships, tragic love stories or non achievement of everlasting love.

Romantic love is rarely ever simple or straight forward but for those of you who have had a Cinderella story, lucky you. Historically I am scripted to enjoy viewing on screen, reading in books, and first hand witnessing beautiful love stories. My favourite love story movies would be an Officer and a Gentleman, Legends of the Fall, Titanic, Love Actually and P.S. I Love You. I empathise with star-crossed lovers, those who have experienced lost love, and lovers who suffer the mental anguish and complexity of duty, religion and culture on the ability to share and declare love and of course the challenges that culminate in the wake of missed love opportunities.

Love touches and warms souls and is the most beautiful, perplexing, interesting and defining emotion that we humans will experience. The theme of plays, novels, movies, art and life, it is the utmost emotion we need to be happy.  Shakespeare was a master of documenting it, as is Woody Allen and James Cameron, Gabriel Garcia Marquez won a Nobel prize for exploring it, Klimt captured it in The Kiss and then there is the female perspective and exploration of love by Jane Austen and the Brontes. Mr Darcy is legendary as is Heathcliff and Cathy, Rochester and Jane. Apart from grief, the loss or absence of romantic love can elicit emotional pain, a loss of joy, vitality and depending on the circumstances, anger, confusion and an irrepressible longing that clouds life. 

I am full of love for my family and my friends, yet it is the elusive missing lover that I hope chances into my life. The real love stories in my life are few, I have experienced great love but also divorce, betrayal, greed and too many ugly moments and interferences that whittled away and destroyed what was once a youthful love, marriage and what I thought would be a relationship that lasted eternally. Yet, my family history is full of love gone wrong and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. As I sit contemplating whether and if ever I will fall in love again, what I know is best summed up by others.

1. “It is better to love wisely, no doubt: but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all.” Thackeray.
2. “The course of true love never did run smooth”  &  “Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none” – Shakespeare.
3. I just wish I knew how to quit you- Brokeback Mountain.

The people and in particular men I have bared my soul to are few. If I have your respect, trust and friendship that to me is worth almost as much as your love.  I love my children with all my heart and seeing them find love as adults, makes my heart burst with joy. If I develop a love with the man of my dreams, I truly will be even more blessed than I am now. As it is the moments we spend developing love, that lasts forever in memory. Life is a lifetime, love is a feeling and as an optimist, I believe that patience and grace will endure and life and love will unfold as it is meant to.

“Age has no reality except in the physical world. The essence of a human being is resistant to the passage of time. Our inner lives are eternal, which is to say that our spirits remain as youthful and vigorous as when we were in full bloom. Think of love as a state of grace, not the means to anything, but the alpha and omega. An end in itself.” – Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera.

 

 

The mental bucket list

Sunday the day of rest, or for me today was a fairly unique activity afternoon spent near the auspicious arches of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. As a birthday present my favourite three bought me a set of dance lessons. As a former child dancer, I have continued to love the world of dance and as an adult it was around fifteen years ago that I courageously forayed and shimmied into the belly dancing world for a couple of years of fitness and entertainment. Knowing that I wanted to again hit the dance floor, yet needed a push, my children gave me a unique birthday present- a dance class voucher. So to mix it up and challenge my mind as much as my body, I booked myself into beginners hip hop.

Learning to distinguish and groove with an upbeat move as opposed to a down, and throwing my arms in a robot cop, to making my feet shamrock, whilst peppering my shoulders, I can now skite I’ve been learning New York hip hop as opposed to popping  and locking such as in LA funk. As probably the oldest in the class, and I’m guessing the only one with arthritis, my grooving is not the most uncoordinated and the mix of beginner hip hoppers truly reflects the diversity of Australia. Lesson two, we looked much improved compared to last week’s debut.

The energy that exudes from those exiting Sunday afternoon studio classes is contagious. Whilst waiting for the 2pm class I was sitting tapping my feet to a blasting  on loop Aladdin track. My body rhythm was psyched whilst hearing the roomful of tappers, clicking and stomping the studio floor. Beginners tap I have promised myself is next on the list.

My mental lust to complete a bucket list of activities is increasing. Life as I know it time wise is on the downside run and in the years ahead I have travel wishes, job wishes and so many things I want to do.

As my shoulders shift from my spine I do the two step with flair and it is the freedom and lack of precise rules in hip hop that appeals to me.  My body responds to music and in my mind I feel like I am dancing even if the mirror lies.

When my kids were little we use to dance around the lounge room with the CD player blasting on a Friday night- the Shrek soundtrack was my youngster’s favourite.  We would close the blinds so the neighbours didn’t see and dance for hours.  I realise that I have missed the opportunity and freedom that letting my body move to the beat of music allows. I know I love seeing bands because I dance, yet really allowing myself to feel the beat of music has been missing, generally because at over 50 I am no longer out clubbing on a Friday or Saturday night.

This year I hit Bluesfest (one tick on the bucket list) and yes, I am heading back again next year, not because I’m a huge rhythm and blues or jazz fan but because I loved being able to move my body to the beat of the amazing talents of the likes of Nikki Hill, Vintage Trouble and Melody Angel to name a few.

I had arranged to meet up with my daughter after my dance class and we walked around the harbour and celebrated Queen Lizzie by catching  up on conversation with margaritas in the Barangaroo precinct. The stares we acknowledged with smiles from the celebrity table near us were either because my daughter is young and beautiful or perhaps it was that I looked like I had experienced the most fun on a Sunday afternoon than I had done in ages. We proceeded to check out Vivid afterwords, and witnessing the flow of light rise up the famous sails of the Opera House as we walked under the iconic bridge was magic. Dining with my gorgeous daughter sharing conversation under a full moon as the city was artistically lit up rounded out the Queen’s birthday Sunday in style.

I cannot help be taken back in my memory to Queen’s birthday weekends of long ago, cracker nights in the back yard with Katherine wheels, roman candles, ground blooms and bungers, the winter chill and fog of cracker night at Brookie Oval, and when as a Uni student I worked in Grace Brothers and of all things was selling firecrackers in the pop up section of the store as the Queen’s Birthday weekend approached.

My mental bucket list is long, the weekend is almost over and when you live in the moment anything can happen. The best Sundays are those that beautifully unfold from an early walk in the morning snapping sea shots and impromptu coffee catch ups with friends, seeing movies that bring you to tears and dining under a vividly lit city. My memory is no where near yet full and the advice to myself is to just dance like no one is watching and get out there and live your life.

Mouse wheel fatigue or menopause?

I lay wondering what it was that had finally tipped me over edge,  down the slippery  slide of my emotions, where I felt at any moment I might fall into a crying mess. As I lay contemplating the innocuous truth of my emotional state I rationally debated with myself  and concluded that it was only some minutes in a day that I spent teetering on the brink of a meltdown, the rest of the time I was too fricken busy to notice. Lately I have asked myself, am I depressed? The inquiry is always quasi present. The answer is no. Rather, I can conclude I am exhausted, burnt out, over dealing with ever present physical pain and simply not used to having my own time. The questions, oh the questions! My mind I have come to appreciate never stops thinking, surmising, rationalising, debating and it struggles with silence and stillness.  Why do I feel so trapped in a world I feel I have fallen into rather than chose and created? Why do I feel so isolated among the hundreds of people I interact with in a day? Why do I feel  so undervalued and lost?

Simply put I am physically and mentally exhausted, worn out, burnt out and ground down.  I am menopausal and facing the realisation that the young woman I once was has been replaced by a menopausal impostor with a multitude of ailments, recurring post-traumatic stress disorder and a yearn to scream at the top of her lungs, it is not f$#51en fair! For 20 years, I have felt like a mouse running on a mouse wheel.  Always a survivor I have dodged the shit thrown at me and juggled everything life has thrown up- divorce, financial stress, death, illness, trauma,  crazy people and when life got hard I ran on that wheel with all my might. My signature is not to just cope but to excel and do everything, and I mean everything, with as little fuss, determination and minimal acknowledgement as possible. Simultaneously with my penchant for seamlessly running on the mouse-wheel of my life,  I have experienced beautiful gratifying soul enriching experiences. The joy in my life has always outweighed the struggles but now, my mind has slipped into a void of routine and monotony, where my daily challenges over ride everything.  As the passionate, fun and optimistic woman (who I know I am inside) struggles, I am forced to slow down and live in the moment. It is that lack of having to run on the wheel that is causing me to falter.

Trauma has always been the trigger of my questioning. My reflective leadership style, level of introspection and intelligence have often been a thorn in my side. A loss in my vitality has me questioning everything and everyone but most of all myself. Having had a mild traumatic brain injury, I know what it is to be discombobulated.  Timing is everything and the hormonal frustration in my world at present is colossal. First world privilege and the successes of my life cushion my being. I am fortunate, blessed and people love me but it is the contradiction in my heart, the comfort of having had and lost that sets my mind in a paradoxical meander into questioning my own sanity and the trajectory of my life.

So, usually I resemble a quiet mouse, just running on my own wheel.  All those truths I never said and held onto over the years well they are starting to bubble out of me. I have always respected that everyone has a right to voice their own opinion and who was I to criticise, well, suddenly I am saying my truth and people are not used to my honesty and to be frank, nether am I. The physical pain I am enduring has allowed me the freedom, or in my mind, the excuse, to voice what previously I did not. My mid life hormonal crisis is allowing me to be honest, most of all with myself and I need to channel my energy, speak and live my own truth and  try very hard to practice the art of mindfulness.

Learning to notice my thoughts, quieten my mind, accept my feelings and crazy emotions and rejoice in the space of my hormonal changes will take time. In the meantime I think I need to exorcise the mouse wheel, ditch the routine, discover who I am minus the circus of my life and ostensibly chant Om.

 

No more second fiddle

The light over the ocean is far away and the blueness that pervades is sombre but beautiful. It is May, the air is cooling, and the scent of salt in the sea air fills my lungs in a soothing autumn way. I breathe it all in, the view, the salt, the beauty and I walk, one foot in front of the other along the cliffs. As my feet follow the path, I reflect on the vastness of the ocean and tears well in my eyes. I am feeling the colour of the water and sky, dulled and grey and it dawns on me, the weight of an emptiness, an ache, a heaviness. I am submerged in the feeling of a lack of being valued. It is a facing of the realisation that I am not any particular special person’s first thought and have not been for a very long time. It is a tough life being a single parent and an even tougher one when those children, you have parent-ed on your own have left the nest. As I walk, the automatic self-soothing meditation of my feet plod along, I think to myself, I am always steadily moving forward, in the rain, wind, sun, storms, whatever the emotional and real weather of my life. Every single day in my life, I have risen to the challenge no matter how hard it has been, tenacity could be my middle name. This morning I notice my feet and hands are cramping, my toes and ankles hurt and the my heel pain is intense. My hands I notice feel the same way in that I can no longer grab things easily and typing as well as writing is becoming a chore. I extend and stretch out my fingers, thumbs and hands to lessen the pain and as I walk I also stretch my mind.

I am a capable self-sufficient woman who has everything life can provide, beautiful children, friends, a job, a lovely house, reasonable health and I make my own world as enjoyable as I can every single day. Ultimately, I always see the glass as half full, I am a realist and optimistic, full of hope, think the best of everyone, and believe that all have their own cross to bear. So, why is it that today I feel the undoing of the zipper that it is on my heart. Why the strolling tears and why do I want to scream to the ocean that it is not fair? I realise I have succumbed to feeling undervalued and alone. The physical arthritic pain in my body is making me face the emotional pain seeping through into my bones.

My life has been about putting others first, not deliberately hurting anyone and making sure any suffering of those I love is minimal. My needs and desires have always come second fiddle and I have garnered much of my worth through making sure everyone else in my world is having the best life they can. Martyr, with a capital M, maybe?  Always the mother and mentor, forever magnanimous, yet it is the fact I am not cherished by someone special, an equal, that strikes today at my heart. It is weighting on me and I know my eyes behind my sunglasses, bear semblance to the pain I am feeling. I have lived through emotional and mental trauma; my cards are clutched close at my chest. In the past few months, I have come to understand that the family domestic abuse I lived through as a child still haunts me. The positive is the pain of what I experienced as a child ultimately has led me to be an advocate for equality and to be the best mother, teacher and human I can be.

I hide my vulnerability. Few often see it. It is a rare occasion that the zipper to my heart becomes bare, raw and fully exposed. I am blessed with a fair degree of intelligence and empathy and sometimes I crave the celebration of who I am from a loving partner. Today is that day and it just happens to be Mother’s day.

My ideal male partner, I have come to hypothesize is probably a male like Atticus Finch. Yes, he is fictional and I do not think there are too many single eligible men like Atticus shopping at Coles. I ask myself often, where are the respectful, genuine, non-judgemental, upstanding men of my age who have integrity? For  a start most of them are married or  screen written for Hollywood movies and definitely not mingling in my daily realm. Having had my heart broken too deeply, once too often means I have almost given up on men, so to risk taking a chance on someone whose standards and values are not equitable with mine is becoming more and more unlikely. Long ago, I thought I married someone who was moral, courageous, compassionate and cherished me, I was so very wrong.

The challenge for any man I would date, is do you have what it takes, on a mental and emotional level to be with me? If you do not have the courage to ask me out on a date, I know you will not have the courage to deal with difficulties in life. I find it bemusing that only one man has actually had the courage to chivalrously ask me out on a proper real dinner date in the fourteen years I have been a divorced woman.  I think I am too independent and perhaps to secure in my oneness to appear date-able. My standards are high and if it means I am on my own, so be it.

So as I walk, with the wind blowing on my back I am propelled to look inwards and instead of focusing on not having a special male in my life, I consider the remarkable women in my life and the others in my life who do value me.  I uniquely have two mothers, one who raised me and one who relinquished me, and both have endowed me with the best qualities and wisdom of themselves. I decide that any problems I have in my life are few and they rest mostly in my heart, so really they are not problems at all but rather wounds that have made me the most incredible strong resilient and capable person that I am. Those wounds have made me a warrior and I have raised three incredible humans as a result. It is then that I proclaim to myself  amongst dried tears, that flying solo is really #freedom in every sense of the word and I hope that like a bird I soar to wherever the wind, life and hopefully love eventually takes me.

Discrimination is a dirty word

It’s Sunday and I relish the opportunity to sleep in, read the papers, do a bit of gardening, go to the beach, catch up with friends and hit the gym for a Zen session. The weekend is also an opportunity to partake in one of my favourite pastimes- the movies. Hidden Figures with Kevin C, plus the trio of Janelle M, Octavia S and Taraji P. H, playing the inspirational women – Mary Jackson, Dorothy Vaughan and Katherine G. Jackson, was my choice. Last week it was Lion and Manchester by the Sea but it was the brilliant women who worked at NASA that ignited the simmer of my frustration. I actually loved it, as did the audience. As I watched the women’s involvement in the NASA space race unfold and, I felt and it is only my opinion, but not much has changed in fifty years in terms of the number of women in leadership or powerful positions.  There were moments of disbelief, empathy, tears of joy and pride and I left the cinema empowered and inspired but I also felt a rise of nagging frustration.

I often garden when annoyed and it is a great diversion that gives me thinking space and as I gardened I started to reflect on the movie and how challenging and frustrating it must have been for the three women in the story, to have continually dealt with oppressive racial and gender discrimination.  The scene where Katherine returns from the coloured bathroom wet and unleashes her fury resonated deeply with me. The discriminatory themes painted in the film, I realised are just as ubiquitous today. Yes, we have anti-discrimination laws and gender equity reports that account for how many women are in the workforce and top positions and yes some things have changed, thankfully for the better. Finally, we have a female Justice of the High Court, and we had a female PM. You may argue that racial and gender discrimination are much lessened. Women can vote, African Americans win Academy Awards, but how many? And some Indigenous Australians win AACTAs or you may not care but covert and overt discrimination, elitism and ignorance are rampant in Australia. Attitudes, perceptions and our individual actions need to change.

Racism is escalating in some echelons of our society, it is not a new world problem, and after two thousand years, two World Wars and witnessing the horrors of ethnic cleansing, you would think that as humanity and particularly as Australians, we would not tolerate the notion or practice of racism in our country. The pervasive tone of racism is present and disgustingly echoed in many of our elected politicians and that is worrying. As I flicked through my paper after my morning walk, several articles made me pull those weeds, ever so efficiently. Ray Martin is tackling the question on SBS this week of, ‘Is Australia racist?’ If you did not read the promotional story, I am sure you will not need to watch the episode on Feb 26, to answer the question. If you are not aware or worried about the widening divide of attitudes and derision towards certain cultures in communities of Australia, you should be.  If you watched Q & A last week, you would have witnessed the vitriolic spouting from Jacqui Lambie. You may remember the prejudicial exit of Adam Goodes from AFL and let us not forget that Australia’s treatment of refugees is contrary to the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights.  The future of multicultural unity in Australia is severely at risk.  It is 2017 and the discrimination that we watched and abhorred on news broadcasts from the 1960’s and 1970’s should be long gone. We struggle with saying ‘Sorry’ as a nation and our treatment of Indigenous people in our lucky country is appalling.  One day we may ALL rejoice for being young and free.  But at present, it seems discrimination is surging with force and we need to end the rising tide of, judgement, assumption and elitism in our suburbs, schools, workplaces, states, and in our country. It starts with each one of us. Respect and non-judgement irrespective of culture, race, gender, age, sexual persuasion, disability and religion is what anti-discrimination laws are founded on, yet anti-discrimination is not universally practiced and is problematic to enforce.

I’m not black, indigenous or Muslim but I am a woman and it seems that either cultural, religious, gender, sexual discrimination or harassment of any marginal subgroup in our society is becoming increasingly prevalent. If you are a Muslim, wear a burka, hijab or niqab, are over 50 or happen to be a single parent beware. I have recently entered the zone of what I am coming to terms with, as the invisible customer. Is it because I am over 50, or is it just I am a menopausal? Let’s remember I am also lazy, ugly and clearly not worthy of being married to as I am a divorced woman and a single parent. Is the problem, how I look or dress, or is it the suburb I live in? Is it the clothes I wear or don’t, or is simply the fact I have breasts? Discrimination based on gender, marital status or what women choose to wear should not be an issue in Australia. In relation to recent discriminatory comments concerning Muslim dress, Sharia is not law but an ideology that encompasses Islamic life and if a Muslim woman as part of her religion or culture wears a hijab that is her right. If I choose to wear a bikini or a short skirt, that is my right and I do not want anyone telling me that I should not wear a bikini at the beach. Of course, then there are the covert discriminating clan that would regard a short skirt or a bikini as a sign or advertisement of my promiscuity. Slut shaming is as common in Australia as vilification is for wearing a hijab. The line is fine and the quandary for me is, I am mostly irrelevant and invisible to men, but if I wear something revealing or sexy or were to have a Tinder profile, I risk being slut shamed either through words or through thoughts.

Normalisation of covert and overt discrimination, elitism and sexism is treacherous. Normalisation of racism is perilous and the collective conscience of Australians needs waking up. I do not want the likes of, Jacquie Lambie, Pauline Hanson or Rob Culleton in Parliament. It disturbs me that these people as politicians actually have supporters. It distressed me that Julia Gillard was treated and evicted as a Prime Minister in the manner she was. The scepticism I have in relation to politicians is mainly due to their behaviour witnessed on television when they are sitting in parliament. They are the public officials leading our country, and the example they set our youth and community often is woeful. The system is broken and as our elected representatives, they need to treat one another with respect and act with integrity. Each one of us needs to show empathy, compassion and non-judgement in what we do, what we say and what we think.  And as the song goes- from all the lands on earth we come…and I hope one day sooner than later that we can sing with one voice- I am, you are, we are Australian.

Serendipity

I watched her relaxing among the warmth of translucent bath water, tanned legs and elfin feet angled upwards to rest gracefully on the white lip of the bath. Nestled in her nightly routine, small glistening beads of sweat formed over her forehead, and her pale face glowed. The sun kissed skin of her body languished beneath the depth of water and her closed eyelids, flickered ever so slightly. Her closed butterfly like eyelids made it easy to thoroughly and watchfully examine the map of her face; a dusting of faded freckles covered her cheeks and nose, laughter lines alongside her mouth and softly etched lines neighbouring her eyes hint to her having lived a spirited life. She opens her eyes and gracefully removes herself from the bath, wrapping herself in a white bath sheet, proceeds to towel herself dry and with the caress of her hand, she uses a round makeup pad to remove the final traces of sweat, and the day’s worries from her mask and face. She slides into her bed releasing herself from mundane life into the world of dreams.

A late Saturday night party in the distance and the stifling warmth of the summer night keep her tossing in her usually comfortable cocoon of bed. There are moments where she wakes and I contemplate if she is alert to my presence. Once morning gently rises through her eastern window, she arouses from sleep. Motionless I continue watching. The morning noise of dogs barking, amongst the summer cicada symphony is layered with the warbled chorus of sulphur crested cockatoos, noisy black koels, colourful rosellas, kookaburras and lorikeets. In the distance the din and whirr of traffic and noisy leaf blowers escalates. An early morning shower of rain exemplifies the ethereal majestic trees that fringe her room-the huge Blackbutt, Turpentine trees and a single gnarly Red gum tree rise above her nook in suburbia. It is her haven and home to herself and a vast colourful array of bird life who are delighting in the freshness of moisture and the new day.

Time and its void had slipped between and beyond us.  As she opens her almond coloured brown eyes to face the day, I smile. Her smile I notice embodies and is a reflection of my own. She swings her legs to the floor, rises with morning tiredness and pads her feet across the yellow tongue and groove pine floor. Carefully, I slip out of her way. You might think I am her lover, admirer or a voyeur. I do love her, admire her and at times, I come, listen and watch.

The darkened shadows and stillness of night is when I usually decide to emerge. I observe the routines of the woman who is a personification of myself. She is alive, candid and her life has been lived. She has made mistakes and errors in her life yet has also loved ferociously and for the same reason lost much; she is a warrior mother and yearns to be loved passionately as the dreams that besiege her. Her facial lines platform a loss of youth and her subtle ageing narrates the wounds of her soul.  She has recounted thousands of stories in her life and unlike me, she chats endlessly, excitedly interjecting, and altering the direction of many conversations. Her smile warms my imperturbable soul. Recollections of a unique visit together, where we shared French champagne, stood side by side on wide steps of majestic buildings, and posed for photos captured on 35mm film that were rush developed at a two-hour photo laboratory, and now  lay buried in boxes on dusty bookshelves, suffusing my essence. Chances long ago allowed us the shortened pleasures in an English summer.  Watching Wimbledon is the quintessence of English summer spectator sport, it is when England is lush and green, strawberries and cream are delectably devoured, and the scent of lavender wafts into the air as you wander with delight around the numerous outside grass courts. When I whiff lavender in the space of time between us, I feel tears drop into the air. However, they are never my tears, as I cease to cry.

One day, I suspected she would seek to find me. That day happened in 2003 when she wrote a letter seeking information and the whereabouts of her birth mother.

Pregnant with my first child, my sister boarded a plane and travelled to London to meet me. Twelve months of penned sisterhood in our thirty-something years of our own lives was how our relationship began. Biologically we were sisters but had grown up in different families on opposite sides of the world. I had grown up with our parents in London and she with her adoptive family in Sydney.  Our mother relinquished my elder sister, whilst young and working in Australia. Years later our mother returned to England, became engaged, married our father and produced two more children, our brother and myself. These details are what bind us in the familial world.

Her serious and investigative genealogical quest began in 1991 when she was first pregnant. The new life developing daily within her stirred a maternal wondering of her own biological mother. She imagined the difficulty of relinquishing a baby. The Adoption Act had changed and allowed her the opportunity to apply for a non-official birth certificate that defined the particulars of her birth, namely her parentage. Two years of continual pondering passed and with a second baby nestled tightly in her uterus, the timing was impeccable. The day was a Friday, when she received the envelope that provided the name of a woman, who twenty-seven years prior had been pregnant with her. Three days later, she gave birth to a daughter. Knowing her own mother’s name, age and that she was English provided a much longed for and desired connection to the woman who gave birth to her.

 

Our life together, however, was not ever meant to be. It would always be lived through thoughts, imaginings and longings. Sometimes wants, wishes and desires do not align with what we hope to determine. Through the universal network of fate, destiny had brought my sister and I together, however for a second time fate determined that we eternally be kept apart. Cancer was the ruin of our newly kindled relationship. I am a mother but no longer exist. I was a wife and no longer am. My earthly roles of, mother, daughter, sister, wife, friend, and niece were extinguished by my inability to beat the insidiousness that invaded my blood, the bone marrow transplant I endured although successful, my body had battled enough and no longer could combat infection. With the ventilator detached, my life, relationships, hopes and dreams abruptly ceased.

As I transcend to visit my sister, I sense she is aware of my energy; her fleeting memories of our moments together, are what draw me near. The affection she exudes as she contemplates, a once shared conversation, our visit to the majestic Brighton Palace, lunch in a quirky English pub in the historic Laines  or our last extended and celebratory family dinner together permeates and radiates over me, albeit, my light lives on. I visit when she least expects. I grace those that I loved. I am the aroma that lingers in a memory and the sensation of a presence when the hair on your arms stands on end. You rationalise that I do not exist but I am within your heart and mind, I am the energy that helps you live. I am not palpable; my soul subsists despite my body succumbing to leukaemia. I left to this world a son who now is in high school. I visit to watch him too.  He was nine months old, when my body yielded to the obliteration of cancer. I do not want my dying to define his life. He does not remember me but I am his semblance, witness to his hopes and dreams. As the unknown, the intangible and non-matter, you cannot visualise me, however, a sixth sense or your gut expresses to you that I am possible and here.

My curtailed life was serendipitous; especially when the woman in the bath, my sister, chose to seek something, she felt missing. Her connection to something else, greater than herself, caused her to find the other family members that she knew somehow, somewhere existed. The little girl within that woman long ago, trusted a feeling in her soul, she in some unique unfathomable manner sensed that she had other family, perhaps a sister someplace and vowed that one day she would find out. Thankfully her wilfulness, courage and tenacity to search for me was fortuitous and life gratifying.

Life in all its glory- fate, destiny or the determination of events, allowed a small window of opportunity for us to meet. The woman in the bath took years  to ultimately discover her origins. At times, like Pandora’s Box, voluminous good things resulted but also many a far-reaching emotional consequence erupted. She is a survivor and the thoughts, feelings and vibes in the depths of her soul are her illumination. Her energy is contagious. Her days are lived, breathed and I am glad that she sought to meet. As Hannah’s spirit, I hover in time among great mythical goddesses in the Milky Way.

Viewing photographs, that line the cream hand worn walls, assorted images of children smile happily, the nieces and nephew, I never encountered and yearned to know, I reflect that her eldest daughter is an altered and modern image of myself, a doppelganger. The two dimensional images depict my lost family, screening eerie family resemblances and the inherited connection of both blue and almond brown eyes, fair skin and mousey brown hair. The rhythm of ballerina feet in my sister and her daughters and the mannerisms they exhibit as they perform daily feats is hauntingly beautiful. The essence of myself is encapsulated among the fragrance of white lilies and lavender that scent her front garden.

Sisters have an uncanny, timeless, unique and universal bond that transcends hemispheres, time apart and life. She is part my bones, part my soul and my long gone attachment to life. She understands what I unwittingly, cruelly, under duress and unfortunately suffered, that priceless memories of an anticipated motherhood were never to be lived. She is living my vanished life. My sister, our mother’s first daughter, was the first granddaughter, however, the related ancestral family, went to their own graves naïve to her existence. The determination she afforded in finding us,  her biological family transpired to result in the most exceptional family meeting for our mother, brother, now deceased father and myself. She had a sliver, a spell of time, a sliding door into our English world and those of us, who had longed to meet her, encompassed the moment of serendipity.  As orange and pink hued sunsets magnificently cast beauty over the western mountain range and days fade away, I hope she appreciates and recognises that what she rightly sensed in her soul, years ago and does still today in the present is worth trusting.