Monday, 21 December 2015

L5 S1


I feel so distant from the pain that was within me earlier this year; both physically and emotionally.
It’s hard to believe it was only nine months ago when I questioned if I’d be able to walk “normally” again- without pain, without limping. I wasn’t very good at listening to my body and would struggle explaining to my GP and neurosurgeon, where the pain was, how it felt and the severity of the nerve pain. I work with universities helping to train medical students in communication, by pretending to be a patient. You’d think after years of talking injuries, accidents, unfortunate diagnosis’ and death, I’d have a handle on the pain scale structure and what information is required for history taking. Yet when it’s happening to you, well, what is real feels very different to what is not.
The medical team suggested I make pain notes. Pain is a strange thing, hard to control, hard to process and at times hard to heal.  I made a conscious effort not to let this pain be a vocal point in my life. 
“This is not going to become part of my identity,” I thought, so only in the margins of my diary I wrote out my pain in red pen:
2.3.15
+hurts
+hurts when I sleep
+hurts when I wake
+when I walk
+standing hurts
+bending down hurts
3.3.15
+same as the day before
+hurts when I cough
+after walking for a while I forget the pain
4.3.15
+a little better when I stood up this morning
+still hurts when I cough
5.3.15
+sore all day, filming all day  = standing all day
6.3.15
+hurts getting up
+cried at the physio
+hurt all day
+pain killers not helping
7.3.15
+hurt in the morning
+hurts holding things
+hurts to walk
+couldn’t pick up car keys off the ground
+new pills from GP
+getting older tomorrow
8.3.15 [#birthday]
+hurts when I sneeze
+hurts when I cough
+used heat patch
9.3.15
+left sign school early because of pain
10.3.15
+NO PAIN IN THE MORNING!!!
11.3.15
+woke in pain
+hurts when I cough
+got sent home from work
+cried on the floor

the following was a ‘to do’ list I had written at the time:
-sleep
-cry
-listen to records
-lay on the floor
-cry
-sleep
-walk
-repeat

I’m glad that I wrote these things out because I’d forgotten, not necessarily the effects but how it felt. It was terrible but I couldn’t be as thankful as I am right now, if I were not able to re-read what I’d gone through. I made a decision to take time and write the specifics about what I was going through at that time in my life and I’m glad I did.
It’s a process and I still have to be careful. Now there are days when I have no pain. I remember thinking “if you can’t feel your spine, it’s a good time”.  I’m hopeful that in time I will be closer to that point.
This morning I had physio-pilates at 7:20am on a pain scale where 1 is the least amount of pain I’ve experienced and 10 is the most; I would rate this mornings session at 2. Earlier this year I would say I’d hit a 10 for sure.
Throughout this year, even when I was on 4 different medications and my health needed to be a priority more than ever; I was still able to finish all my assignments and graduate sign school. I had my first composition performed live, I moved house, continued to work and support myself, drove a bus to Alice Spring, started taking piano lessons and got my taxes done. We are capable of some much more that we think we are.
To my GP, neurosurgeon, psychologist, physiotherapist x2, my sister and my dear friends; to whom without their support, the struggle would have been so much more real, I thank you.
So much has changed and I’m so thankful.

What did you learn?

  • -     Healing is a mystery; it can happen over time or can happen in a moment.
  • -       Writing is a great way to process what you’re going through.
  • -       Don’t let the biggest pain in your life be the biggest thing in your mind.
  • -       Sometimes really hard things happen and all you can control is your response to these things.
  • -       You need other people, you can’t do everything on your own.
  • -       One of the most important things in life are the choices that you make.

Sunday, 6 September 2015

#likeyou

There are still times when I question what is going on in my life- 
"What am I actually doing with my life, with this time i've been given!??"

Soon after that thought, that slightly irrational crisis,  I stop, I calm down and I remember my purpose- #LOVE. I believe if everything thing I do, the way that I treat other humans and the words that I use all come from a place of love, then I am living with meaning. 

Love is complex, it is many things and is represented in various ways and today I was thinking about how love is brave...

Sunday, 22 March 2015

#hisnamewasfrank...

There so much history here for me and there is something very beautiful about coming back to this place; that feeling of home. Open air, old things, old humans and familiar love.
=this is the view from #nannaandfranks backyard= 

If there's one thing i know about family- it's that it's complicated.
Different personalities connected through blood, excepted to love one another. We can't always get it right. My parents couldn't keep it together, although they may have tried. My father- his affair with his secretary, when i was fifteen. My mum- her Nigerian scam fake lover situation. i needed an example and Frank was it. Although i didn't realise it until the night before he died.


=#nannaandfrank out the front of franks shed=

Nanna and frank had six daughters and when the first grandchild came to earth he thought he was too young to be called grandfather so we always called him Frank...he was grand.
Frank grew up in one house, he never left this place. He never went overseas; in fact he never left Victoria. He said "If you want to see the best view in the world, you just need to stand on mt blowhard and look north." Frank died two years ago now, and i know he'll be remembered for what he did rather than what he never did. 
=the old fire station across the road from #nannaandfranks house=

Nanna and Frank taught me that relationships take dedication and forgiveness and hope. 
Frank made jam, from berries he grew. He was a skilled blacksmith; made his daughters a swing, that i still use when i visit. He was never too busy to spend time with a friend or help in any way he could. The post office run out of their house for years, they taught ballroom dancing classes together. Frank volunteered for the local five service and a helpline for people suffering depression. He could re-sight the great Australian poets and serviced all the windmills in his district. When we were little ladies he would pick roses from his garden, rap them up in tinfoil and hand us a little bouquet when we would visit. Every year without fail, he would personally deliver a real christmas tree to our house. In my young mind he became the smell of pine.
 =the truck in their backyard=

 He never talked about all the things he did, never boosted about how much he knew. He was content to sit with his family, while we ate the soup he'd just made and waited patiently for his famous jelly slice. i loved that stuff.
 =Frank's father invented a type of rubber used on the wheels of a horse and cart, one of his family's cart's is on exhibition at Sovereign Hill, in Ballarat.=


Frank was all deaf toward the end but was still altogether in the head. I was thankful for that because that night, as he lay dying, i said "thank you for being a wonderful grandfather Frank" and he still knew who i was. I took a cloth and run it under the tap and gently wiped the sweat off his forehead. Afterwards Nanna said that was the very best thing i could do for him. 

=They still chop wood because they can't cook if they don't have fire.=


The next morning i was waiting for mum to fly in, my aunties has left and i was the only one at the hospital, in the room, alone with the body of Frank. It was the strangest thing, the light coming in through the window and i swear i saw him breathe. But i didn't... i'd never seen so many people at one funeral before. He had influenced so many, loved so many. Frank is the greatest human i have known. And i am thankful for him, for family. 

"Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?" 'It's a Wonderful Life'

i see this as a rich heritage and i hope my cousins and i can always come back to this place for that familiar love.

 inanystillmoment@gmail.com
photos by mish on hasselbald

Wednesday, 25 February 2015

#oneyearagoinvietnam


and when i was alone and said to myself out loud- "it's hard" i also thought "beautiful things can come from difficult times"

Saturday, 14 February 2015

one year ago today...

14 feb twothousand and fourteen 

i have this sick feeling of being full and empty all at once. Its the same feeling i've had for a few weeks now i guess... and i can't work out if it started because that boy stopped talking to me or because my aunty died or just because of 2014... either way, in the Melbourne Airport alone waiting for my flight to Vietnam that i booked last night, i find it interesting- life; who we were, who we're becoming and who we'll be in the end.
im usually the kind of person not to make big plans unless there is some reason or purpose; yet when it comes to something i feel i must do, i seem to act immediately- this is one of those times.
2014 has brought my much heartache so far with the one year anniversary of Frank's death, the injustice of what i know the kids from camp have to deal with. Seeing that boy, loving that boy and losing that boy in such a short space of time. My aunty's death, last week, and the pain left behind, almost unbearable. What my uncle and the boys have to face and they are so young and i can't count how many times i've said to myself "it's not ok, it's not fair"
All this and i'm still forced to care for myself when i have never felt so careless, so weak...
I make myself eat, when im not hungry. Make myself talk about it, when i don't want to. Make myself wake, when sleep calls my name and I hear it whisper "forever".
i can't see forward anymore and i catch myself thinking to not be alive wouldn't be such a bad thing and im too curious about all the things i can't see and what they see now- without me. When it really comes down to it and you're low and never have you felt so weak, you still, i still look up to the sky, the sunset ablaze in beauty and i know the sweetness of His love.
How beautiful God is, how constant and never changing. And what i find is that the strength of pure joy and the weight  of worldly pain are together. Just like it was from the beginning- the hurt that God went through, that sacrifice and yet unspeakable love and passion shown on that same day. He has felt everything i feel. 
i am overwhelmed by all the He is and so i find myself longing to be with Him always, in His midst; complete. The Holy Spirit, my great friend, has struck my with a compassion i have never known before; i am very fragile about the simplest of sorrows and human suffering in life. I feel at any moment i could weep, for all the thoughts, all the feelings, all the mystery and i have already- yes, for strangers, cried for them and i don't understand it... 
All i know right now is that im leaving my country for a short time, in search of more of God, a new aspect of His heart [well, new to me]/
Anything could happen and whatever does i know this much- that i will keep coming back to the only one that freely gives perfect peace. Jesus.



Saturday, 10 January 2015

#week1review...

+new years- footscray 
+camp life
+weekends off
+also dragons played at bar open
+writing letters
+rooftop bar
+g and t
+button making
+church
+jessica pratt played at the toff
+phone fell from pocket into lake- geelong
+wrote a song
+yarra walks
+small electrical fire in the basement; evacuate building- 2:17am
+almond croissant 
+poziable gifts sent 
+docklands sunset when i thought "i want nothing, except forever"
 
#thetoffintown^