Stories from back in the day - Finishing HSC

Source

As I drove into work this morning I heard DJ's talking about the fact that results for the Victorian Certificate of Education (VCE) were being released today. Young people were ringing the radio with great excitement after having received their results via text message this morning, wanting to share with the whole country the fact that they had passed.

Wow! They get their results via text message now.

Back in my day young whippersnappers! Back in my day......we had to wait months for our results to come out on the horsedrawn coach that would often be delayed because of the droughts and flooding rains.........................

Well...no, not really....but almost!

Back in my day, the VCE was called the HSC (Higher School Certificate) and I did mine waaaaay back in 1984.

When Madonna looked like this.

And we went to the movies to watch stuff like this:

Who you gonna call.....???

And Dolly magazine told us all the important things we needed to know:

You bet your sweet life I wanted to meet Ralph Macchio!

I think the passage of time has sweetened the memory of my HSC year somewhat. My memory recalls that it was the school year where we all sort of grew up a bit and I found that people who wouldn't give me the time of day at the start of the year would sit and chat on occasion by the end of the year. We all thought we were it and a bit being the seniors of the school, having our own Common Room and HSC jumpers that "we" designed and wore. I say "we" because the decisions for the hideous jumpers were not made by general consensus. We had a choice of lemon and mauve. *shudders*

Like I said, it was the 80's - and the colours were either pastel or fluoro. (see above Dolly cover)

But I do remember the workload. Oh the workload! I studied English, English Literature, Biology, Human Development and Society and Art, which compared to the brainiacs who studied English, Pure Maths, Applied Maths, Physics and Chemistry seemed like a breeze, but it wasn't. The essays were brutal, the pracs were insane and the amount of time I spent on my artwork and the backup work for the artwork almost did my head in. There was a lot of time spent in the art room after school, nights I didn't go to bed and classes I didn't attend simply because I was sitting in the Common Room madly finishing assignments and essays and assigned questions to hand in by the end of the day. I even remember running to one of my teacher's staffrooms at the end of the day to hand something in and she was actually standing at the door counting down the seconds before she wasn't going to accept the work. Pressure!

Study? What was study? I was just doing the work. 

Still, on that final day, when the final bell sounded I cried like a baby. (and we hadn't even had the exams!) School was finishing and life as I had known it for twelve (13, if you count Prep) was about to change.

It was a strange thing finishing school. For a week or so after the exams I kept thinking that I had forgotten to do something; that there was a piece of artwork I hadn't handed in, or an assignment to finish or an essay to write. It took a while to just relax.

The results of our exams didn't come out until January - and back then they were POSTED out. You know....snail mail.....before the internet. 

Unfortunately, our family was on holiday somewhere up in the mountains so our neighbours were instructed to forward my envelope to the caravan park where we were staying. This meant that I was going to receive my results a few days after my friends, but at least I wasn't going to have to wait until we got home from holidays to know.

The wait was excruciating. What made matters worse was that bushfires had broken out around the area we were camping and we were all on alert, waiting for the word to evacuate. I remember laying in the hammock in the middle of the night seeing the glowing of the fires on the mountain. There was a chance my results wouldn't reach me.

We asked every day at the Caravan Park Office if I'd received any mail. 

Until, one day.....there it was. 

My heart was thumping out of my chest. With trembling fingers I opened the envelope. 

"I PASSED!" I screamed.

And promptly burst into tears!

I didn't realise until that moment the stress I'd been under; how anxious I had been. I never assumed that I was good enough to pass, but pass I did....and I did better than I expected. 

We celebrated that night. My parents, who never had money to spare, took us all out for pizza (back when pizza wasn't as common as now) and the best icecream I've ever eaten. All the tensions of the past year dissipated. I didn't even think, "Now what?" It was all over and I was glad.

Now we live in a world where students know their results so quickly it makes my head spin, but I feel for them because they are facing more competition for university placements and employment opportunities. I don't know if the world is any easier these days. 

What was it like for you at school?

Did you do HSC/VCE?

Out of bed, actually remembering my own name.

Unfortunately, managing to get out of bed to remember my own name is cause for congratulatory pats on the back at the moment. A friend once likened grief to skipping double-dutch; constantly jumping to avoid being tripped by the quick succession of ropes. This week I've had to agree

The primal wail has not happened. Silent tears, yes. Most times I'm just getting on with it; doing all the things as it were. However, this old bod' is letting me know its under some duress. I've lost a kilo I possibly couldn't have afforded, the flip flops in my chest have been uncomfortable and the dizziness annoying. Please don't worry though. This is all very normal for me and everything will find some kind of equilibrium eventually. A very dear psychologist said to me once, "For a person who feels things very deeply you are actually quite out of touch with your own emotions." I didn't really understand what he was trying to say at the time. I do now.

Despite wanting to hold every single one of my loved ones close over the past week I have watched them all embracing their own independence and autonomy. Grabbing life and opportunities with both hands has been the order of the week and I've watched them connect with others, form new bonds and become more sure of themselves  I wish I hadn't been so frightened and protective when they were younger. I wish I had've let them fly sooner.

Over this week I've become connected with so many other people that I knew by name simply because we were mutual friends with Stella but hadn't really taken the opportunity to connect with. It seems that my world has expanded in some way, and again, I am embracing and being embraced by a whole community of people I am proud and privileged to be counted amongst, simply because I occupy a non-normative form. How lucky am I? Never before have I been so thankful to be different.

And that statement would've prompted Ms Young's face to crinkle up, give a squeal of glee and earn me a high five. But it's totally true. It's honestly how I feel.

Finally, after 47 years.

That, Nanna, is your miracle.

The horizon is nothing

And a horizon is nothing
Save the limit of our sight.

- Carly Simon Life is Eternal

I have decided that I no longer fear my own death.

Being amongst those left behind is the thing I struggle with. 

All of us facing the endless stretch of life without that loved one. 

Day after day of one foot in front of the other.

Which I guess, in the long run, is all we can do and what is expected after such a loss. 

I do fear for those left behind after I'm gone....

Feeling this ache that may diminish through the passage of time but never goes completely.

Stop all the clocks, you broke the internet Stell.

November 2014. She and me.

Dear Stell,

I first met you ten years ago. Ten years. Really, was it only ten years? It feels as though I've known you all my life....but I know that's impossible. I am after all, fifteen years older than you....and yet you always seemed so much wiser.

You came along to an SSPA convention to run a theatre/performance workshop at the request of our mutual friend Carly. You and I hit it off immediately, but you know what Stell? That was you. You hit it off with everyone you came in contact with. You genuinely liked and were interested in people and in your presence, each of us had your full attention. Your eyes would light up, you'd smile and laugh and you'd make us feel that we actually meant something to you - and we did! And those hugs! Oh my gosh! When I first met you I was so scared I was going to break you, so ignorant was I! I soon learned that you too, were capable of great, smooshing hugs that felt warm and heartfelt and so I hugged you without reserve.

You turned to me during a rough patch after your beautiful heart had been crushed and wounded. We would talk for hours when you felt life just couldn't go on and you didn't know where to turn and what to do.

"Breathe Stell...." I gently told you. "Just breathe....."

And that's what you did. And your heart healed and you got stronger. Hell....you didn't just get stronger, you became powerful and feisty and I loved you even more!

Later, when my heart felt crushed and damaged beyond repair and I didn't know what to do or where to go or how to live you held me and said to me,

"I'm going to give you the same advice a dear friend once told me. Breathe, Leis........just breathe..."

And so I breathed....and my world went on. I became stronger.

You were the first one to be by my side when I called you desperately from Intensive Care at the Children's Hospital that cold, windy day. You were the first one there to hold my hand after watching my child come back from the brink following an unexpected complication from surgery. You dropped everything and just came, letting us know we weren't alone. You opened your home as a refuge from that nightmare and you held my hand through the night, stroking it, giving comfort.

I'll never forget that. Ever.

I loved it that you and I had opposing views on some things. You, a staunch atheist, me a woman of faith. Not that we ever butted heads about it, but we respected and loved each other enough to simply leave it alone respectfully. We both loved each other too much for it ever to come between us by having endless, pointless arguments about it.

You know Stell...when I got the opportunity to be there on the red carpet at the premier of X-men: Days of Future Past with the possibility of interviewing Peter Dinklage (The Dink - as you so affectionately dubbed him) I felt so hopelessly inadequate. I kept thinking, "It should be Stella doing this! She's got a much higher profile than me; she's more popular and most of all, SHE'D KNOW WHAT TO DO! I'm just a NOBODY!"

But Stell, you showed me that I'm not a nobody and that I'm just as capable as you at getting the word out there, challenging, questioning, provoking and connecting. I love you for that.

After some time of radio silence between us we both managed to catch up twice within the last month at some celebrations. You, in your incredibly generous way encouraged me by being so excited at the changes you saw. Instead of being this non-self-accepting, ableist person you once knew (and loved just the same) you saw a woman who talked to you about the pride she felt at identifying with a rich culture where diversity, difference and disability are not only accepted but celebrated vicariously! Your eyes lit up, you grinned and you high-fived me in celebration of how far I'd travelled in the last ten years. On Saturday 29th November we caught up and danced like wild things together, both of us throwing ourselves around with reckless abandon - not as a political statement, but because we loved to dance. We sang loudly and badly and affirmed to each other just how much we meant to each other.

Before we parted that night you told me that you were hoping to come to The Other Film Festival and attend the On The Road With Snow White forum that I was facilitating on Saturday 6th December.

That Saturday, as I led the discussion I looked out into the audience to find you. You weren't there. Little did I know that you had already cast off. The news had not yet reached us....

On Sunday, the girls and I were talking about how good it was to see you. On and off I'd blurt out a random, "Crips Ahoy!" as I'd heard you exclaim when you'd spy a group of wheelie crips out and about.

The news still had not yet reached us.....

The news reached me on Monday morning...and my life turned inside out, upside down and 'round the wrong way. I cannot fathom it Stell. I really can't. I've taken a huge deep breath in and I can't exhale. It keeps hitting me over and over again....and yet I feel like it hasn't hit me at all. It will. I know it will....and then there'll be this primal wail of this terrible, horrible grief that is gnawing away at my insides.

And yet I hear you, somewhere in the In-between......

"Breathe, Leis'........just breathe........"

My Sarah said yesterday that you broke the internet. Tributes are flowing from all over the globe Stell! All over the GLOBE! Do you know that? I hope you do. I hope you know what a huge, crip-shaped hole you've left. I could write here about all your achievements and what an impact you made in so many different facets of the community.....

.....but I'm not going to.....

I'm going to be selfish.....

This tribute I am writing is what you meant to me. I am writing about the Stella that I knew. That wonderful, gregarious, cheeky, generous, inherently flawed, feisty, vulnerable, beautiful soul that was simply too big for the body she inhabited. You facilitated change in ME Stell. A little bit of you lives in me.....

And the wonder about all that is that you gave everything of yourself to everyone else you touched too......so that all of us left behind can connect with the little bit of Stella that is in each other.

You're not gone Stell. To get through, I'm thinking that you've just gone off to do your work elsewhere and left us to carry on what you were passionate about. I for one, will keep the flame burning.

I'll just keep breathing ok Stell? It's all I can do.

I love you. Always and ever.

Thankful Thursday #2

1. For parents who are approaching seventy and are still healthy, happy, vital, interested and involved (and sometimes very silly!). Not only that, but they have been married for 48 years and still the example of what a loving, healthy marriage looks like. Selfless, hardworking and generous are these two who also managed to wrangle seven kids without losing their minds and are the wonder-wranglers of sixteen grandchildren! I love them dearly.

2. Coffee - that has kept me going this week. I have to admit to falling asleep within fifteen minutes travelling on the train in the morning. Picking up a cup of coffee on my way into the office has been essential for functioning most days. I hate the fact that I need it, but I do love my one cup of coffee a day. Yesterday I tried a latte from the Left Handed Chef. Highly recommended!

3. My bloke. He really is a love. So good to talk to and a fun sense of fun!

4. Excellent performance reviews. I can breathe a little easier knowing I'm doing a good job. New things will be happening in 2015 that will be helping me financially. Watch this space.

5. Being able to see a vision of loveliness even when loveliness is not a reality. I have plans for this backyard. My kids say I am my parents daughter in that I love making unlovely things lovely/ 

What are you thankful for this week?

Slowly sneaking happiness

I'm reading The Happiness Project again. Actually, now I'm really into it I don't believe I actually finished it last time I started it. This time I am totally engrossed. I'm writing notes and thinking about everything I'm reading. It's coming into a time where I am beginning to think of my theme word for the upcoming new year so with all the notes I'm taking an idea is beginning to form. I love really getting into a book and working out what the authors visions and suggestions mean to me. How can I apply the principles suggested in my everyday life. What does Happiness mean to Leisa as opposed to Gretchen Rubin?

Regardless though, happiness seems to be sneaking up on me again. Not that it ever left mind you, but I've found myself getting overwhelmed by the sheer busy-ness of life again and had forgotten to pause and reflect on how good life actually is. Over the course of last week I had opportunity to sit and listen to some beautiful, creative people who have so much passion for their craft that it just fanned the flames of creativity and possibility in me and my world once again opened up into a whole new realm of possibility.

I'm constantly reminded every day from this voice within that attitude really does dictate how one sees the world. On days where my attitude sucks then the world sucks.  I notice all the people staring, things just don't seem to go well and I walk around like a sad sack with a scowl on my face. On the days where I am actually looking for the goodness, then it is goodness that I find. I can feel the lightness of being. And is it my imagination that things go well?

Sometimes I get very overwhelmed by the big picture. Recently we signed the lease on a new rental property. I was incredibly excited about it until we got the keys and did a walk through of the property on our own. Is there such thing as renters remorse? Well, if there is, I had it. Taking our time to walk through the property gave us opportunity to see everything wrong with it - the missing door knobs,  the badly plastered holes in walls and doors, the chipped boards, cracked tiles, dirty floors, missing fence palings and weeds. What on earth had made me believe that I could possibly live here? I want clean! I want neat! I want perfect!

Between you, me and the gate post,  I started to become pretty depressed by it all.

But then I started spending some time at the property on my own. I put on some music and started scrubbing. I've scrubbed down walls and slowly started going through the place, getting acquainted with it and looking at all the things I could do with it; seeing the unseen, planning possibilities. As marks started coming off the walls and I started to build a picture of a garden free of weeds and full of healthy vegetable plants I felt the hope and excitement rising.

This could be good! Happiness is slowly sneaking up on me.

A friend recently posted a quote on Facebook that said:

"Happiness begins with the decision to no longer feel sad." - Steven Aitchison

I don't know if I subscribe to that thought. I do believe that happiness can be a decision, but I don't think happiness is the absence of sadness. I am aware of a sadness within that stays with me always. It is a sadness born from many things that I can never change; things that I wish never happened and things that I wish were different. But they can never be different, and I have accepted that and moved forward. I choose happiness. I choose to seek it everywhere...and I find it everywhere. Sometimes it sneaks up on me, even when I least expect it. 

Thankful Thursday

Let's mix things up a little and do a Thankful Thursday, huh? What if I made this a regular thing and then we got a whole lot of other people wanting to take time out on a Thursday and think of things to be thankful for - big things, little things, seemingly insignificant things.....ALL THE THINGS! How's that for an idea? Ok, ok, ok.....I know it's not an original idea and I can't patent it or anything....there's nothing new under the sun, according to Ecclesiastes.

So without further ado......

Thankful Thursday!

1. Ecclesiastes. 

Have you ever read this? Regardless of how depressing it might seem at first glance, it's actually not. I kind of like the conclusion it comes to....that the best thing you can do is enjoy the time you have on earth. Simple really, isn't it? It's all about the journey. I think about Ecclesiastes a lot and it brings me great comfort in some strange way, so I am thankful for it. In fact, I might go home and read it again tonight. I think it's my favorite book in the Bible. If you're interested, you'll find it after Proverbs...which is after Psalms....which is after Job.....

2. Bean Boozled Jelly Beans

My daughter Chloe introduced these to us. Similar to Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans from Harry Potter, these crazy little beans have proved to be a fun family activity. Last night we went to the beach for a fish and chip dinner and decided to have these for dessert - with the added bonus of a daring guessing game....made even more daring when you're eating them on the beach in the dark! Not your typical delicious, sugary snack - pop one of these in your mouth and you never know what you're going to get!

See what I mean! I think the grossest one I have had has to be BARF! It honestly has the acidic taste of vomit. Our family has a theory that the makers of Bean Boozled have deliberately left out Barf's yummier counterpart, Peach. As yet, every Peachy looking bean has been Barf in the boxes we have consumed.  The best of the gross flavours has to be Baby Wipes. It's actually quite nice.

Try them if you dare!!! They have provided our family with.....enjoyment??? If not enjoyment, then a lot of laughter!

3. My job:

I know I have to commute and that the commuting tires me, but gosh I'm thankful that I have a job and that I actually do work with some lovely people. I am thankful that the management team are understanding of the fact that life just happens and that there are occasions where things come at me from left of field and that I have to change things at the drop of a hat sometime.

4. Having just enough:

I don't earn much. I really don't. There's nothing left over at the end of a fortnight....but I have just enough...

I know how to do "just enough". I've been doing just enough all my life. Just enough keeps me on my toes. It keeps me thinking. It helps to sort out priorities. It encourages gratefulness. 

5. Books: 

I am so grateful for the chance to sit with a book and be transported to an imaginary world, or inspired to take on new projects and ideas. My world is expanded with each book I read. I am reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin at the moment which is inspiring me to think about my goals and theme word for 2015. I have always been a reader, love reading and have passed that love down to my children. 

What are you thankful for this week?

Alone In A Crowd

Source

I've decided that I have chosen to pursue a very lonely sport.

Maybe I just came to that conclusion as a result of being in a bit of a funk, but it's something I've been thinking about since I participated in The Color Run last Sunday.

Honestly, I don't mind running alone when I'm....well....running alone! Getting up early in the morning and running before everyone else is awake and the day is still fresh and new is something I enjoy very much. It's my time; a time where it's just me and the road and my thoughts and by the time I get back home I am invigorated and awake and set to take on the day.

Events are a different matter.

Most of the events I've entered into are Fun Runs, although The Run Melbourne I did earlier in the year was a little more serious. Fun Runs are normally done as a group and they're supposed to be...well...fun! You and your friends get together and run, take selfies, engage in some friendly competition and generally encourage each other to keep going to the end. Trouble is, I don't have a running partner, or a friend I run with so I normally enter into these Fun Runs as a solo participant, get there, run, go home. The end.

Standing on my own in a field of over 20,000 other Color Run participants last Sunday was a pretty lonely feeling, I must admit. It made me wonder why on earth I do this....

But I love it. I love to run. It's as pure and simple as that. I've chosen to do something that people I love are unable to join me in....and I've chosen to do something that I have to participate in on my own level, not trying to keep up with others, which means that I slow people down if I'm running with people who want to make a good time.

I'm getting faster. After three years I have finally started to run under 8min/km. Today I really pushed and ran my fastest yet - 7.31min/km over a 2km distance. Something has finally clicked. I don't know what...but whatever it is, it's making me faster. I'm going to keep practicing these short "sprints" until I can try pushing harder over longer distances. I think the frustration of trying to get around walkers at The Color Run on Sunday might've done it because when I got a break I ran like the clappers to make up some time!

Why I made it all about the time during a Fun Run I'll never know. I just wanted to get out of there to be honest.

I was a little emotional when I got home. It was good to be not so alone anymore. I've asked for some company when I register for the next Run for the Kids.

I've set myself some running goals. These goals have been on my mind for a year now but for some reason I have baulked at achieving them. Over the past week one of my fitness idols (who is also short statured) achieved a pretty amazing feat, inspiring me to push further, train harder and showing me that it is actually possible.

Watch this space.

The One Thing

I saw this list of questions over at Random Acts of Zen and felt inspired to ruminate on them myself.

The one thing I should do less often is: Doubt myself. I find myself thinking that there's always someone else so much more qualified than me to do practically everything, so when anyone asks me to do something really terrific I am always scared that I'm not going to live up to their expectations. Fact of the matter is, I'm always encouraged by others after all is done. The only one who doubts me is me.

The one thing I should do more often is: Take the time to spend with people I love most. All work/committments and no play makes Leisa a very dull....and lonely....girl indeed.

The one thing that makes me smile is: Hearing, "Mum, I had such a good day." Still.

The one thing that does my head in is: Passive-aggressive comments. Please! If you don't really mean something, don't say it. Passive aggressive comments also make me doubt myself. "Do they really mean that the way it sounded or am I just being too sensitive?" GAH!

The one thing I should eat more of is: Protein (plant based) and foods high in iron. Sadly lacking here...

The one thing I can do to make the world a better place is: Smile and believe that everyone is just trying to do the best they can with what they know in this journey called life.

The one thing I need to remind myself is: Don't compare my achievements with others. Just do the very best you can with what you know and the resources you have been given.

The one thing I should do for myself right now is: Release myself from the pressure of making a decision either way. All in good time, my dear. All in good time. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

How would you answer these questions?

Tiny House

We've had one or two people over the course of our lives who wonder about our house and our furniture and have held the assumption that everything is scaled down according to our size. When our current house was being built fifteen years ago there was one particular lady who was almost squeeing with delight at the thought of EVERYTHING being scaled down - not just the lower benches, light switches, door handles, a walk in shower with lower taps and a clothesline that had been sunk into the ground a little more so we could reach it - but all our furniture as well. She imagined us sleeping in smaller, shorter beds, sitting at a table and chairs built for children and on a lounge that was lower to the ground. I wonder if she imagined that the ceiling would also be lower? I never asked...

This couldn't be further from the truth. Yes, our home does have lower benches, door handles etc, but that's where it stops. Come into our home and the average statured person would be quite comfortable with the furniture. Washing the dishes? Maybe not. We've had taller-than-average friends actually choose to sit on a stool if they offer to do the dishes for us. There are times where we muse about having a Japanese-style table where we sit on cushions...mainly because this is how we are most comfortable, and I love that style!

But oh my goodness! I would LOVE to have a TINY HOUSE! Not because I am short, but because I dearly crave a minimalist lifestyle! To only have enough room for the absolute essentials would be a dream, and would encourage living mindfully and meaningfully without the excess clutter and possessions that we really don't need.

And on wheels too! Perfect for being a nomad in comfort!

For those who want to put down some roots.

Ok...so maybe it's not very accessible for those who have mobility issues...hmmm....

Images taken from here. 

I've been thinking a lot about this lately as my partner and I are on the verge of moving into a smaller place so I have been starting to sort through our possessions and divide them into those things that can stay in the "family home" and those that can come with us. I am learning to let things go. I even have a large, plastic storage box that contains baby clothes from when the kids were little and have decided to donate them to The Salvation Army. I've only kept them for sentimental reasons and realised that all the box is doing is taking up space...so I'd rather give them to someone who could use them.

It's going to be hard letting them go though!

Isn't it incredible, the amount of "stuff" we all accumulate over a lifetime? Why do we do it and why can it be so hard to let it go sometimes? I find that when I do declutter, simplify and let go it's like a weight gets lifted from my shoulders and I begin thinking clearly. I can actually do more with less!

So yes, my dream is to have a Tiny House. Not just for the cute factor, but to help me become mindful of the simple things I need to have the simple life I dearly long for.

Video Killed the Radio Star

l-r Hayley, Carly, Michelle and me. (it's only when I see photos of myself that I think, "Gee! I AM really short!)

Now that title may be a little misleading...or narcissistic. Yes I am on radio from time to time, but I am in no way a star. It was just the title that popped into my head and I went with it. Let's give a round of applause to The Buggles for penning that little earworm....or karaoke favorite...

On Saturday I made my way into the city to the studios of Channel 31 to film an episode of No Limits. My dear friend Carly Findlay recently asked me if I would like to come into the studios and sit on a panel of other bloggers to talk about our experiences of blogging from the perspective as a person with a disability. I was thrilled to be asked, regardless of the fact that I struggle with the fact that my blog is in no way the calibre of Carly's or the two other wonderful bloggers I shared the panel with - Michelle from Living With Bob and Hayley from Rellacafa.

(Please head over and give these bloggers some love. Great reads and you'll be educated in the process - just like I was!)

Filming No Limits was such as positive experience. Everyone was just so friendly. It was a real experience having my makeup done for the harsh lights of the studio. Although I love it when I have a makeover my eyes inevitably start streaming when someone approaches them with a mascara wand, undoing a lot of the beautiful work! The atmosphere on the panel was relaxed and friendly - more like a chat than an interview. It's so easy to forget cameras when the conversation is so interesting. I learned so much from the other writers - particularly in regards to just getting out there and writing and telling my story. 

I think that's my biggest struggle - feeling as though my story is mundane; or sometimes not really feeling as though I can share the harder, more personal stuff. My life is so very ordinary, filled with work and commuting, crafting and cooking, catching up with friends and contemplating life, so I find myself wondering, "What exactly is the short statured perspective in all this?" I consider myself very blessed - a family of origin that modelled nothing but acceptance, a body that is fit and healthy without many of the issues that can be  associated with achondroplasia and a workplace that is diverse and accepting - not just of my difference, but of ALL difference. What is there to blog about?

But then I realise that that's exactly what I want to blog about and why I started blogging in the first place. I was tired of news stories, media coverage and newspaper articles about people of short stature taking one of three different directions - wildly inspirational, focusing on the problems that can be associated with being "four foot tall in a six foot world" or capturing a short statured person in the role that ridiculed both the condition and the person and didn't do anything to educate the public in any form.

I wanted to tell my own story. The story of a woman - who didn't even get to the lofty four foot in a six foot world (I'm only 3'10.5") but who just does life and is sometimes confused by a world who still has this tendency to discriminate and judge by appearance. For the most part though, I realise that on a daily basis, most people are just letting me do my own thing. I choose not to look for the people looking or staring or smirking or giggling. Is there a look of surprise when I walk into a business or shop and a customer service person encounters me? Possibly...but I've chosen not to see it, which means that I am free to simply go about my business and perhaps educate just one more person about difference in some small way.

I've also realised that by telling my stories I'm also putting things in order in my own mind. I'm exploring the impact some of my past experiences have had on my own journey towards self-acceptance. Hopefully these stories will help others out there as well - not just people with a condition of dwarfism but for others who struggle with accepting themselves and their appearance.

Encounters: Lady

Source

Your hands were what I noticed first. They reminded me so much of my grandmother and the last moments I spent with her. I had taken my camera that day, capturing the last few images of her. I took one of her hands, clasped together under her chin as though she was in prayer. Someone had painted her nails I noticed.

Your hands were like hers, spotted and wrinkled with age. Hands that had possibly done a lifetime's worth of honest work, held lovers, stroked a baby's newborn head. I couldn't help but look and be somehow comforted by them; hands so much like hers.

My eyes drifted to your face. I noticed you weren't wearing glasses yet you were reading the newspaper. Your mouth was relaxed; the corners turned slightly upwards as though smiling. Your eyes reflected that smile. Did I imagine a twinkle as you looked up from the paper from time to time, taking in your surroundings and the people in it? They were kind eyes; ones that reflected an inner peace.

Your skin had relaxed with age, settling into wrinkles that possibly held countless stories. I wondered what your young face had been. I'm sure it would have been beautiful and I felt glad that you seemed to be content to let age have it's way and create a new kind of beauty that time can never erase. You were dressed warmly, so much more so than me but I could tell that you had dressed with care. Perhaps a hint of your personality was revealed in the ruby red earrings that twinkled from your ears?

All too soon my tram ride was over and I disembarked, leaving you to continue your journey. Where were you going? Were you meeting with a friend? Your grown child? A grandchild? I can only wonder.

You crossed my path for ten minutes yet I have spent the morning thinking about you. We did not speak yet you seemed to tell me countless stories. You taught me the value of relaxing my face into a subtle smile and to let that smile extend to my eyes to shine out to others. You showed me that aging is nothing to be feared but something to accept with grace and love, for not all of us are gifted with longevity. The lines and wrinkles that come can hold many secrets and come almost as a reward for a life well lived.

Thank you dear lady, for all you imparted to me today. I will remember.

Rolling with the punches

When I was a younger mother I would say at the end of each year something like, "Surely next year will be the year where things will get better!" There was always something going on. Someone would have to have surgery, someone would be out of work, we would lose someone we loved. Life just seemed to be in a perpetual holding pattern of coping. 

These were the years our specialist would see me in clinic and ask me, "And how are you going with it all Leisa? " and I would answer with a stoic, "Yeah, I'm doing okay! "

And then there came the years of, "I-can-no-longer-deal-with-this" and, apart from feeling like I was losing my mind, I had a very unhealthy hatred of everyone and everything. I succumbed to the rage of, "It's not fair!" and, "Why me?" Well meaning platitudes of, "God only gives someone as much as they can handle!" only served to fuel the rage because I was NOT coping. Not by a long shot. I was surviving. 

Surviving is not living. Trust me on this one.

There were many offers of help from people I loved. Looking back on it all now I can see I should have accepted more help, but truth be told I couldn't specify exactly how they could help or what help I needed. I'm really not good at delegating tasks. 

And deep down, practical help such as getting someone in to clean the house or even take the kids places was not really the thing I needed. Having someone there to do all that stuff wasn't going to relieve the pressure of emotionally and mentally coping with everything. I can physically keep going forever (or so I keep saying) and I'm pretty good at "doing all the things" (because it actually helps me by giving the illusion that I have some kind of control!) but the constant worry and stress I had in my head almost did me in.

How does one get help for that? How can family and friends relieve that? There just seemed to be so much of it that I felt as though I couldn't keep leaning on the inner sanctum of trusted souls for fear that it would all get too much for them and eventually they'd all bail. One by one they'd jump ship. 

Because they all could. Trusted others, as involved as they may be, still have the luxurious option of jumping ship. Not that I'm suggesting they would have mind you, but somewhere in my stressed out mind this was something that niggled at me from time to time. I needed them to hang in there on the sidelines so I guess I protected them from how much I was struggling so they would actually stick around.

I realized that the other side of this is that when I did and do actually lean on trusted others and let them know stuff, that's when the floodgates open and I break down, lose the plot, can't hang on anymore, drop the bundle...take your pick. I've only got to get a phone call from one of my sisters asking, "How's it all going?" and I become a blubbering mess. I don't like it when that happens...so I remain closed and come across as this able, capable woman who has her shit together...

...when in fact nothing could be further from the truth. I don't have my shit togther. There are days where I'm like a li'l duck swimming in a pond - looking calm on the surface, paddling furiously underneath.

Furiously is a good word. Deep down I think I was furious. I was brought up in a church that preached "pie in the sky when you die, steak on your plate while you wait," meaning that if you followed Jesus then your life would constantly be wonderful, joyous, full of blessings, healing, deliverance, prosperity...all those nice, powerful words. After Googling that phrase I can still find pastors/teachers/evangelists who preach it. *headdesk* I was furious because no matter how much I prayed, how much I believed, how much I tried to have faith, attend church, tithe, learn...there was still another surgery to go through, another meeting to have trying to get schools to understand our specific quirks, another unsuccessful job application. If there was a God, I felt like He defininitely wasn't interested in us.

I think things started to turn the corner when I started seeing possibly one of the most incredible psychologists to ever grace the planet. For the sake of anonymity, let's just call him Peter. Peter was as tall as I was short. He too was a Christian but was open minded and curious about lots of different alternative ways of thinking. Instead of feeding me the same lines I had grown up with he offered me the idea that most of life is actually mundane, some of it is hard and it's all about finding the peace and joy in the everyday routine and simple pleasures of each day. Life isn't about going from one peachy keen moment to the next thanks to the grace of God. It's about just getting by and making the most of what you've got. I spent a lot of money going to see Peter, but I don't regret a cent of it. Our sessions together helped me to unlearn what I had always believed to be true and start searching for my own truth. 

Since then, and since really contemplating and grasping that concept I have had a lot more peace. More peace than I could have ever imagined. I've let go of the striving and the hoping and the wishing and just accepted that this is what life is for me, for us. 

And I'm ok with that.

That doesn't mean to say that things have all of a sudden got easier. There are days where I feel I am still rolling with the punches. Some days bring about a new thing to cope with and I find myself thinking, "Really? Another one? Enough already!!!" But after a brief time of getting angry and maybe even shaking my fists at the heavens I find myself once again squaring my shoulders and trying to use these new opportunities to grow, learn, gain understanding, wisdom and empathy. I'm far less judgemental than I used to be. I find myself looking at people and wondering what their stories are; what they are struggling with and end up cutting them some slack. 

I think we all need to do that sometimes.

If I'm honest, I can't say that I've reconciled with everything my family and I have been through, have had to walk through, crawl through and hang in there through. A lot of it has been bloody hard and there are times I sit there and think, "What did I do so WRONG?" There are times where I have wished I could have just crawled over broken glass and walked through fire rather than go through some of the things we did...but we did, and still do...and we still manage to come out the other side. Maybe we come out a little battered and bruised, but the point is we come out and we're still alive. 

And we still love and laugh. Last night as I was washing the dishes I listened to my four adult children sitting around the table talking about Christmas plans. For a short while they even started singing different Christmas songs, experimenting with harmonies and melodies together. It was the most beautiful music I'd ever heard. One of them became a little emotional because things are starting to change in regards to our living arrangements and soon they all won't be living together under the same roof. They all came together in a group hug, all lending support to each other. 

I see the beautiful close bond that they have and I wonder if it's been because it's been forged through fire that it's so close and so loving. Maybe they've banded together because they've walked through fire together all their lives?

Maybe I am grateful for the punches and the fire after all....

In which she gives Eve a break.

But the Lord God warned him, "You may  freely eat of every tree in the garden - except the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. If you eat its fruit, you are sure to die."

Genesis 2: 16 & 17
The New Living Bible.

I've been listening to Triple J for a couple of years now. I like that I am hearing different artists than the usual Beyonce, Brittney and Bieber offerings of other radio stations. A few months back I heard Hilltop Hoods, Cosby Sweater and liked it from the start. I liked it because...well...I don't know why. It was different to what I normally like, it was catchy...and I liked it. I didn't even know the lyrics apart from most of the chorus. This is most unlike me. I like knowing lyrics. Always have. In any case, I enjoyed Cosby Sweater every time it came on.

Recently one of my friends posted about Cosby Sweater on Facebook, saying how much of a good song it was until she discovered what it meant.

I tried to resist folks! I wanted to keep singing along to that song and believing that it was simply referring to the sweaters the Huxtable family would wear on The Cosby Show.

But there it was - that tree of the knowledge of good and evil, in the form of Google.

And I couldn't resist...and now I know what kind of Cosby Sweater the songwriters are referring to...one that I never knew existed until half an hour ago.

*blinks*

Ignorance actually is bliss sometimes, and I find myself wondering if all we do is lose our innocence in the relentless pursuit to know things. Once you know the truth about something then you're no longer innocent...and then...guilt comes in simply because you think, "I shouldn't like this." Well....that's what it's like for me.

(I think I'm working out the Genesis stuff as I ponder this.)

I remember as a child singing the original words to Eenie Meenie Minee Mo, Rock-a-bye Baby and Ring-a-Rosie with reckless abandon. Choosing who was "It" in Tiggy or captain of a team was always decided by the Eenie Meenie Minee Mo method, and back then we didn't sing about a Tiger being caught by his toe...it was something else. None of us had any idea that we were singing about something from the days of slavery, nor did we know that we were singing a song about the Black Plague when we sang Ring-a-Rosie.  It was all innocence.

In the 1980's I heard Led Zepplins Stairway to Heaven played backwards and heard the infamous line about "My sweet Satan". I still can't hear that song without thinking about it and feeling terribly guilty and sinful if I listen to it. (Although I have been known to bellow along to it out of defiance from time to time!)

Going to hell in a hand basket...

And yet we relentlessly pursue knowledge. We just have to know what's behind the curtain, what it looks like,  sounds like, feels like, tastes like. What is there that lies beyond ignorance and innocence? Maybe it's ok not to know. Maybe it's ok to remain blissfully innocent and ignorant of things we don't really need to know about.

At our place we give up this exasperated cry from time to time;

"For goodness sake, Eve! You had ONE JOB!!!"

We shake our fists at the woman who legend says, took the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil even though she was told she shouldn't.  She took it and ate it simply because she just had to know what it tasted like.

I think we can all agree that we would've ended up doing the same.

Sorry Bill...I don't think I can look at your sweaters anymore...

In which she berates herself for being a bad blogger

Well, no, not really.

I posted a status on Facebook the other day that read:

  There honestly is no place like home. I need to set myself up a little business from here. 

Travelling over an hour to get to work is really starting to grow mould. I've been doing it since 2007. Don't get me wrong, I like the organization I work for, the people I work with and even the location; but I really don't like the commute.

And, as I have said a billion times before, I would much rather be home doing things here and somehow earn money to support myself.

Akash said to me that I could totally do it, considering all the pies I have my fingers in, the things I am interested in, working on or good at. He said I should earn money from my writing because I'm good at it.

That may be so, but the problem is I write too sporadically and I tend to procrastinate when it comes to writing. What makes interesting writing? I probably think of many topics a day but I just don't pen them. Maybe one day we'll have some kind of chip implanted into our brains so that when good, cohesive thoughts come we can somehow save them and then download them for editing later.

Scary stuff.

Another part of me is extremely private and baulks at having the interwebz reading my thoughts so that when I meet people they know more than I realize. In fact, I've consciously cut back on posting daily status updates on Facebook for that very reason. I keep an online diary but I don't write in it often. Having a private-ish online diary is one thing. Having a public blog is a whole new ball game.

I guess I'm yet to learn the art of blogging whilst keeping my Leisa-ness just for me and those I love.

Speaking of earning money as a result of blogging, I have my second ever paid speaking engagement coming up soon. This proves to me that earning money from this is indeed possible if I just put myself out there and connect with all the right people and places. I'm both excited and nervous about it. Excited, because I really do enjoy public speaking and nervous because I just feel like this very inexperienced little fish in a very big pond and I don't know anything about anything. I have to keep reminding myself that people just want to hear my story and I alone, am the expert when it comes to my story.

It reminds me of something a doctor said to me once. He explained that as a person with achondroplasia I am one of the experts in the field and all the scientists, geneticists and doctors are learning from me; learning about the nuances of the condition, how it works and how to treat it. It was quite humbling.

(That was quite a little detour we took there, wasn't it?)

Anyway, I'm berating myself for not blogging like I should because if I don't tell my story then how's it going to get out there with any form of accuracy and truth? Time to be making sure I carry around a notebook and pen everywhere I go to make sure I write, even if all I write is just streams of consciousness. 

Be excellent to each other.

You Told Me

You told me to believe, have faith, trust.
You told me to ask, seek, knock,
You told me that the door would be opened.
You told me that I was loved so much that I was enough to die for.
You told me that heaven's riches were mine...
Health
Wholeness
Healing

Healing
healing...

That I only need ask
have faith
believe
You told me it would be mine.

You told me that I would not be given anything beyond what I could bear.
Endure.
Enduring
Endurance

You told me
I believed
trusted
hoped.

With the passage of time the endurance
and patience
and hope
and trust
Eroded and fell into the dust.
Pleading, ferverent prayer gave way to angry fists shaken at the silent heavens.
Heavens that offered no deliverance,
comfort,
solace
or relief.
Just the echoing silence of unanswered hope.

The anger burned and the fire raged,
pointless in it's severity.
For heaven was silent.
Even rage prompting no response.
Rage gave way to resignation.

The yoke was not easy as promised, nor the burden light.
Mine to carry, not His.

Wisdom was gleaned from the fathers of old
Those who went to the pits of hell
to wallow in the shit
for dreams never realised.
Abraham
             Isaac
                    Jacob
                            Joseph
                                      Moses
All believing in dreams
and dying without seeing them realised.
Never knowing if the dream was real or the delusions of madness.

Believing something contrary to ones own truth is madness.
Is it madness to believe in a benevolent god when the reality of existence screams the truth of the contrary?
To believe in divine healing in the face of death

Day
      after day
                  after day

A gamut of things contrary
                                          to
                                           what
                                                  one
                                                      has
                                                          been told.
Until I no longer believe in the goodness of the benevolent god
And it becomes easier.
logical
intellectual
to think of it all as meaningless and random
and the task is to let go
                                   enjoy
                                          and simply exist
                                                                   and end in blissful nothingness......
And yet...
When I let go of all you taught, told, insisted was true...

Something calls
Promising nothing
No visions of the future,
No riches
              nor health,
                             healing
                                       nor deliverance
Nothing.

Just the gentle calling of Spirit to spirit
Logic to logic
Heart to heart
Expecting nothing, assuring everything.
I breathe, slow, cease
and become part of something bigger than everything

Nothing is confusing or contrary.
I breathe and again face the reality that remains unchanged
but has somehow become less burdensome.
The yoke still not easy
nor the burden light,
but the delusions have gone;
the hopeless hope released and scattered to the four winds.
And I find peace in what is beauty in the journey.
Strength in the struggle.

Sunday earthing

Today has been the day I needed in such a long time. Life has been go, go, go. Busy, busy, busy and concentrating on the have - to's. Nothing wrong with that, mind you, but I was slowly becoming disconnected. Yes. That's the word.  Disconnected.

I didn't know how important being connected to the earth was to me until I found myself disconnected from it. I've been longing to just get out into my yard and garden and just dig and weed. I got filthy dirty, sweaty and a little bit sun - kissed.  I weeded and hauled logs, found lots of juicy, fat worms. I chatted away to the dogs who kept me company. I felt my over - active mind chatter just quieten and then stop. I felt peace again.

My Mum and Dad stopped by for a visit on their way back home from house sitting in the city. Dad came out to the garden with me and together we pulled weeds and chatted away about memories and family. Mum busied herself inside, helping me by cleaning up the kitchen.

I am so blessed.

Simplicity. I love it. I love reconnecting to what really matters. Family and earth. Simple things. All the dirt from my gardening endeavors has been washed away now but I feel the connection to the earth once again and feel ready to face what this week will bring.

Wanderlust

"I want adventure in the great wide somewhere."

Belle - Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

Back to the mundane sameness of the everyday.

I sit here in the train and wonder again who I am, where I'm going and what my dreams are. I seem to have lost my Leisa-ness somewhere. That wide-eyed hippy girl (yes, I still think of myself as a girl) enamored with the amazing-ness of life, contented to just potter amongst the veggies, create new things and just sit and breathe seems to have flitted off somewhere, replaced by this person who is again so bogged down by sameness, overwhelmed with the "have to's" and so very, very bored.

Disappointed is the word that comes to mind. I'm disappointed that I have once again slipped into this funk without warning. 

As usual I have tried to analyse this and what I kind of think is that I have had too many fingers in too many pies and have been too busy. I haven't been able to just centre in at home and breathe. Being centred is a very necessary part of my mental and physical health. It's well known that I am a homebody. Nothing makes me happier than pottering about at home; putting things in order, making my space (our space) a place of order and calm and peace. Over the course of this year I haven't been able to do that at all. Too much going on. Too many things jumping out from left of centre to cope with, deal with and manage. 

My mind is cast back to about eighteen months ago when everything seemed to be flowing smoothly. The house was neat, ordered, clean. Everything was done by 8:30pm - including a wipeover and disinfecting of all bathroom surfaces, vacuuming, mopping of the floor and all laundry. We had healthy dinners at the table. 

These days I can't remember the last time the bathrooms were cleaned. The animal hair and dietrus lies thick on the floor and the carpet, people fossick in the laundry basket for clean clothes and mealtimes are pretty much, "Get your own and come and eat it at the coffee table in front of the TV." I don't function well like this. I'm functioning, but not well. I don't feel grounded, I don't feel connected to the earth and those around me. I no longer know where I'm going and what I want. 

I've always said that the state of my physical environment is a direct reflection of the state of my inner world. 

Still, there are a lot of exciting things happening out there and I am a part of them and happy to be a part of them...but my heart is longing for quieter, simple times and my mind is starting to plan towards how to make that happen once again. I'm thinking of taking the entire month of January off work. A whole month of reconnection and reflection seems like balm to my soul even just thinking about it. 

Images out there

I'm usually hesitant to share images on this blog. Let me clarify. I am hesitant to share photographs of myself, my partner, my children, my family and my friends. I'm not really au fais with how this internet thingo works but I am kind of becoming pretty aware that whatever you post on this big webby thing is permanent. Even if you delete something people are able to access cached files somehow and gain access to what you no longer wanted them to see.

I know that sounds so very naieve, the way I have described it....but I'm a wordsmith, not a computer programmer, mathemetician or scientist......which reminds me.....did I ever tell you about the time I got 4% on a Maths exam once???

That's for another day.

But yes, I am very aware of what I post because I know that there are people out there who think nothing of right clicking, Saving As and then using my precious images for their own means... And I am no longer a firm believer in the goodness of all mankind. There are some nasty people out there. Go have a look at GOMI if you don't believe me....but then again....no, don't.

The fact that people can use your own images without permission for their own means came screaming out at us in technicolour this weekend. My eldest daughter became aware that her image was being used on some kind of health information website. The image is a nice one, don't get me wrong, but the point is, somehow someone Right Clicked on one of her photos from back in the day when she wrote a blog, saved it and then used it to add to their rather dodgy information about dwarfism. I'm not going to link it here because the information isn't accurate at all. This image is being used without her permission.

She then Google searched the image and found it has been used in other places as well as being someone's Avatar on a not so very nice forum which seems to dedicate itself to bashing Christianity.

Wow.

So...what to do?

Personally, I'm rethinking the images I will post here. I'm asking my loved ones if it's ok to post their images and how they want me to edit them. I'm considering just head shots that reveal very little of people's conditions. Although we like to think we live in a world that embraces difference I am very aware that living with a physical difference, particularly dwarfism, can still evoke the worst in people and making fun of people with dwarfism seems to still happen on an alarming level.

I'm still learning. I wish I didn't have to be shocked to learn though.

DwAM four days in

It's Dwarfism Awareness Month.

It's four days in and I haven't posted a thing about it. Not a sentence. Not a word.

I kind of feel guilty about that.

I also feel frustrated about it.

Months ago I was all fired up and sought out people to tell their stories right here on this blog. I wanted stories from short statured individuals, parents, siblings, average statured children of short statured parents, friends.

Only one person responded.

To say I was disheartened would be an understatement.

Then I thought that perhaps I could interview people who were in my life about their experiences of knowing, working with and dealing with short statured people. I was going to interview my personal trainer, my chiropractor, my best friend, my hairdresser, my sister.

I didn't do any of it. My sister is writing her reflections and they've been a great talking points over coffee. I do hope she finishes what she's working on. She's so articulate and I'm sure you'll enjoy reading her beautiful words.

But here it is. Dwarfism Awareness Month Day 4 and I've not written a word.

Until now.

Did you know?

● Achondroplasia,  the most common form of dwarfism occurs once in approximately 20,000 births.

● There are over 200 different types of dwarfism.

● Dwarfism occurs as a random mutation of a gene. (I'm an X-man - mutant and proud!)

● 80% of people with dwarfism have average statured parents and siblings.

● Dwarfism is not a disease that needs to be cured.

● The life expectancy of a person with dwarfism is the same as for an average sized person.

● People with dwarfism have careers and jobs in all fields - doctors, nurses, midwives, accountants, nutritionists, mechanics, actors, architects, psychologists, vet assistants, teachers, shop owners, computer programmers, entertainers, truck drivers, pastors, painters, editors...you name it!

● People with dwarfism are able to drive.

● They can also be parents.

● People with dwarfism would prefer to be called short statured, "a person with dwarfism" or as a "Little Person"...but most of all we would prefer to be referred to by our names!

I'm hoping to have other posts up this month that will help to raise awareness of dwarfism - not only in Australia, but around the world.