All posts by deborahm

Re-Purpose & Re-Learn

Leaky Bucket, ,

I like certainty. Knowing what’s going on. What to expect. I like to be able to manage the variations. It’s been my survival mechanism, and one that has served me well.

When that environment changes, it unsettles me.

The bottom of my leaky bucket fell apart in 2012 and there was no management plan. All I was left with was the splintered handle and sheer confusion…what just happened? I have the receipt somewhere, I can get a replacement.

Simple, rustic, functional and a couple of dents for character
Simple, rustic, functional and a couple of dents for character

My bucket design rebuild has been long, well-intentioned but poorly designed. I’ve tried to build more flexibility in the design so I can hold more. Not more weight. More variety. Just like my farmers’ market bag.

In this bag I can throw my apples, lemons and pumpkin at the bottom with no fear that it’s going to drop out of the bottom, but I still have plenty space on top for my more fragile items – the herbs, the wild mushrooms and bright berries.

Unlike my trusty bucket, my farmer market stash looks ‘alive’

Previously I would have crammed as much as I could in my bag, and bucket, to the point it was overflowing. I would struggle to lift it, let alone carry it very far. But I would persevere, this bucket will not beat me!

I’ll be honest, I still struggle with my selection and packing process. In my 20’s I backpacked across North America, where I was dutifully taught to roll my clothes to create more space, avoid daggy creasing and, in my mind, justify those ridiculous heels!

I never learnt the packing technique taught to a check out chick – always assess weight and never trust the plastic bag!

Today, I try to make more conscious decisions. And it starts with what my three priorities for the day. That’s right, only three, and when one is non-negotiable – meals and snacks to keep me fuelled – that leaves me two priorities. Two things I can do, not must, to feel alive – conscious, mindful, engaged.

This often includes walks with Franki with an attempt at mindfulness whilst I am out with her. Observing my feet as they hit the pavement, hearing the leaves rustle in the trees or hearing the cockatoos squawking. Sometimes, the mindfulness simply extends to be alert to what else she has tried to sneak into her mouth.

On a good day, practising a simple 20 minute home yoga sequence feels right and rejuvenating. Walking to my local cafe and catching up on Sunday paper inserts is soothing. I get the sun on my back and a chat with the cafe owners, staff, random dog owners.

On a particularly leaky day, when I cannot bear the 45 stairs I must walk down from my 3rd level apartment to reach the outside world, I lay on the verandah amongst the canopy of the eucalypts and just try to breathe, and remind myself “it’s easy to be heavy, hard to be light.”

Of course on really great days I throw my mantra out the door. Not on purpose, I am just so excited to feel good, pain free (for me).

I am excited that my knees aren’t on fire or that the waves of fatigue haven’t hit, so I take a walk, do some work, eat without chewing properly, hit the local cafe, read a little, google too much and by mid-afternoon it hits me. The adrenalin rush will soon convert to an adrenalin hangover.

I’ve left no space in the market bag for the fragile goods, I’ve crammed it all with the exotic veges I don’t know what to do with, fresh crusty gluten-loaded rolls and those great looking salted caramel macarons that I love so much.

It’s a work in progress. I’m only just working out the right packing technique…and there are days where I simply misjudge quantity for quality.

Surely I’m not the only one?

Postscript: It appears I’m not the only one who uses a top-three priority list, it’s also used as a productivity tool & for peaceful zen…perhaps I’m on to something!

Connection is Crucial

Daring greatly, ,

One of the things I never expected to lose whilst dealing with auto immune dis-ease was friends.

Not acquaintances or people I had known for a couple of years. But friendships I had developed since my “I’ll travel the world in 18 months and be back”…6 years later. People that I would call if I needed to vent, or needed to go out for a drink….my wing women.

To be clear, it’s not like they all stopped ringing because I was “sick.” In fact, it was quite the opposite. In the early days of diagnosis, the phone would continuously tweet and ring. There was no doubt, that for an emotionally constipated individual, I had clearly had some success maintaining interpersonal relationships.

But as the days become weeks, and weeks become months.

Interest wanes and life resumes for all, except the “sick”

The first 10 weeks of my diagnosis were hell and they were the weeks where I kept to myself the most. My then-partner (now husband) Lee, would answer the phone, respond to friends’ concerns and questions and speak to my mum, who needed an update every 3 hours.

I felt like I was imploding and I didn’t want anyone to see it or for anyone else to have to clean up the mess. It was my long held party trick – hold on and let it all go once no one can see you. I’m pretty sure it also contributed to the rusting of my trusty bucket, the vessel that keeps me together.

I then started to question myself, “Do they even want to hear from me?” “I’ve been a slack friend” or “I don’t want to talk about being sick.”

It’s the same awkward feeling you have when you’re in high school and you’ve started a chat with one of the cool kids, you feel like you’ve made a connection…but of course, no one has witnessed it, and now they’re with their harem of mates….you may as well forget it.

It’s human nature, the need to connect. Researchers at Harvard just released their findings from a 75-year longitudinal study on unearthing the secrets to a happy and purposeful life.

A good friend is a connection to life - a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world _ Lois Wyse
A good friend is a connection to life – a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world
_ Lois Wyse

It appears that connection is crucial. George Vaillant, the Harvard psychiatrist who directed the study from 1972 to 2004 and wrote a book about it confirmed “the more areas in your life you can make connection, the better.”

The study followed 268 Harvard graduates from 1938-1940, ironically they were all male students. And I suspect in a post Depression era, guys weren’t so keen to chat about their feelings. But it appears the connection with other human beings is the strongest predictor of life satisfaction.

So yesterday I dropped an old friend a text, “Hey Stephen, hope you’re doing well. Has been a while but would be great to catch up when you’re next in town. Catch up soon.”

And today, the phone rang.

Puppy Love

Puppy Love, , , ,

The best thing my fiance could have ever given me amongst the dark days of an auto-immune crash, was something I had always wanted and never experienced…to be a puppy parent.

I can hear it already.

You’re crazy…It’s a puppy! It will chew everything.

You have CFS…you can barely make it around the block!?

A rescue dog? You’re insane, it will come with all kind of problems! What are you thinking?

Who exactly were they talking to?

A beacon of eternal health?

Franki Trimbole (true to her Griffith roots) has taught me lessons that no therapist, book or meditation class has. The act of mindfullness.

Franki has basic needs. Feed me, rub my belly, please take me on walks.

Uncertainty, boredom and peace....all part of the package
Uncertainty, boredom and peace….all part of the package

Every day, they are the three things she needs and reminds me of as she pleads with those big brown eyes. I often wonder what else she thinks. I wonder if she realises how much peace she has brought to my life. I wonder if she knows that her entrance into my life changed its course.

I was on a slippery slope of despair. I didn’t know how I would get out of it. I couldn’t see how to.

Of course, there have been days where she has driven me crazy. Decided to urinate on the rug or the carpet, as if this is the usual locale. Started barking indoors, not conducive to apartment living. Has been so excited to be off the leash, she sprints in circles as a homage to Olympic sprinters, and then has run off after a seagull, oblivious to my calling.

But overall her unconditional love and affection has squeezed its way into my heart and into Lee’s. I see him hold her with a glint in his eyes and a smile on his face, as he rubs her belly until she’s in a relaxation coma. They walk together down the street, Franki bouncing with those long legs and Lee proud to have such a well behaved and lovely natured best friend.

Every dog owner knows what I am experiencing, but I’m only discovering it. I’ve discovered a joy I have never experienced before. It’s magical. Her excitement when I walk in the door, after a couple of hours or five minutes. Her hello’s are genuine, not because she has to, but because she wants to. And she also makes it clear when she is unhappy with me, sitting with her head down low between her paws, all she needs to do is start tapping her tail, and I know I’m in for it.

I’ve lived in my coastal suburb for 10 years (there’s that magic number again) and I’ve met people I’ve never seen. I’ve had young kids, teenagers, mums and dads, retirees and random people come and greet Franki. And she laps it up, like she’s never received any affection in her life!

Franki has taught me some life lessons. How to be more open to other people. Not to hold back feelings.

One day she’ll also teach me about how to find my personal strength, as her long legs no longer carry her as far as she used to.

She’ll teach me to appreciate the broken heart I will nurse when she’s no longer here.

But in the meantime, I will always hug her, play with her, talk to here and teach her to always stop at a kerb. I’ll try not to be angry with her (for too long) as she chews through yet another lead.

Friendships are all about love and forgiveness, in equal doses.

And this is where it starts…

Leaky Bucket, , ,

The last six months of 2012 were life changing.

My life was turned upside down; and I was shaken, not stirred.

Shaken so very hard I didn’t know where I would land. What abyss would I face?

I was hanging onto a final thread, desperate to not let go of what was familiar, despite the fact that it would most likely kill me.

It was like a out take from the Lord of the Rings.

Perhaps Frodo should have let go as well?

I’m a slow learner you see, I’ve learnt that 10 is my magic number. It took me 10 years from the time I could speak, before I could find the words to leak my childhood secret. And at least 10 therapists since then to keep me sane, assuring me that my responses, behaviours and thoughts were ‘normal.’

10 days before by 35th birthday, I experienced debilitating fatigue before my body collapsed into a heap. 10 days after my 35th birthday to accept that something was wrong, and I could no longer push through. 10 weeks to hit absolute rock bottom, wondering if it was all worth it. And just as long to let go, if only just one finger, off that ledge peering into the abyss.

Bottom of well_canstock

How did I get here? God knows. I am the overachiever, type-A personality. I suffered childhood trauma, that has never really been resolved. Is it meant to? I’ve learnt to stay under the radar, work hard and people will notice your efforts. Mistake #1, of volume 10.

I’m not very good at asserting myself. At the back of my mind I don’t think my opinion is of any value. Again, childhood conditioning contributed to this.

I avoid conflict. I don’t think I was ever taught how to disagree without taking it personally or fearing I will hurt the other person. Whether it’s a debate over the dinner table about refugees and their right to seek asylum or whether I should tell my mum, 4 calls a day to check on my welfare, is a little over the top.

So I either avoid conflict, a difference in opinions, or if I’m really worked up…it usually ends with me in angry tears, feeling uber-tense and/or infuriated or leaving the recipient/s bamboozled. Not quite conducive to interpersonal relationships. This also explains why I was single for so long.

As you can see, I’m pretty au fait with my weaknesses. I just don’t know how to turn them around. And you can be as enlightened as possible, but without the ability to transform…it’s just a choose your own adventure book with only one option.

I’ve now been diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Lupus and Hashimoto disease is rearing its head.

No point asking how I got here.

The question is: how can I move from understanding my emotionally constipated state to adding some fibre?