Small things

Over the course of last week I received word of another friend who had sadly passed away at a young age. Although we were not really close, we re-established contact over the last couple of years. It was kind of complicated, this friendship. We were not friends on Facebook (which seems to be the benchmark for marking friendship status these days!) but I did consider him a friend regardless. I hope he knew that. 

Sadly, he passed away last week at age 53. It's a sobering thought. Of twelve friends that met together as teenagers in 1980 we have lost a quarter of our group over the course of the last three years. Sobering indeed. 

This weekend I spent the time centering and spending time doing things that were nurturing to my soul. On Saturday morning I went for a good run; an 8.5km circuit around what is known as The Esplanade. I live in a lovely area, rich with beautiful birds. On my Saturday morning run I was thrilled to see two rainbow lorikeets feeding from blossoms in one of the flowering gums. It was good to get out there in the fresh air and challenge my body again, emptying my mind of distraction and focusing on breathing and technique. Breakfast always tastes heavenly after a good, sweaty run. 

For the rest of the day I worked on my Angel Story Quilt. 

My cat Gypsy seems to think this quilt is for her!

Block A of Angel Story all put together!

I signed up for Angel Story as a Block of the Month quilt maybe......10 years ago? I had most of the embroidery and piecing done but it had been sitting in a box in the cupboard for the longest time waiting to be put together and finished. I don't know why I do this - start on a project and never finish it - but something kind of clicked recently and I knew it was time. I've been working on it ever since and feel a growing sense of excitement and achievement watching it all come together. 

Doing things with my hands and creating something beautiful during tricky times has always been a go to for me. I remember immediately after the events of 9/11 I avidly stitched a Friendship Quilt and found it soothing and healing. Since moving into my own place I have found that focusing on my creative side has helped soothe my anxious heart and mind and find a sense of home and belonging in this place. As my quilt comes together so does my confidence and sense of self. I am going to be ok. 

Gypsy is actually interested in the program The Secret Life of Cats!

I find myself slipping into a peaceful rhythm of days, even though my working week involves lots of commuting taking up many hours. I get home and peace just settles over me. I go about my tasks slowly and quietly. Even cleaning is pleasurable as it is though my little house becomes more mine as I do so. There's a place for everything and everything seems to be falling into place. In the evening, my dog and cat give me companionship as I sew and watch documentaries on TV. Even Gypsy was fascinated by the program The Secret Life of Cats! 

Small things mean so much to me and mark my days with contentment.

Sunday strolls - Balnarring Beach

This morning Maya and I went for a stroll along our beach. As always she was excited when I reached for her lead and told her we were going, and even more so when we turned onto the road that led to her favorite spot in the whole world.

The tide was out, revealing so much more than what we normally see. We picked our way over the rocks as the water trickled over them and into the myriad of rock pools left behind by the tide.

Mountains of weed piled up on the sand. They remind me of tea leaves - not fun to swim in but fascinating on the sand.

I picked up a few shells for my collection as Maya paddled through the shallow water. She's not normally one for getting wet but there's just something about sea water she doesn't mind. The beach is full of strange and wonderful smells for her and she spends a lot of the time nose down investigating them.

I wonder about the vegetation that grows nearby. The little purple flowers I have seen since childhood. I wonder about the fruits and berries growing on branches. As children we were warned not to eat any berries we found, but I find myself wondering if these are actually bush tucker and a rich source of food.

The sky is moody and broody but as I sit here and write the sun begins to peep through the clouds, illuminating everything with a different light. Maya rests from her wanderings and sits at my feet, looking out at the distant waves.

I love it here. It feels like home.

The little boat to the right serves as a marker as to where I have parked my car!

The tide is out today....

...leaving piles and piles of weed that reminds me of tea leaves. 

I think Maya likes investigating the rock pools almost as much as I do!

Barnacles and snails clinging to the rocks, waiting for the tide.

This exposed rock reminds me of the head of Smaug the Terrible from The Hobbit.

Moody, broody skies. 

I wish I knew more about botany....or identifying bush tucker!

Interesting smells everywhere! Maya often has her nose down. 

I've seen surfers riding waves in this little inlet here. It's empty today. 

Memories of childhood beach adventures.....

My hair and challenging beliefs

Please excuse the grainy-taken-on-my-phone-in-the-bathroom photo. One day I'll get around to taking good Nikon shots and playing around with them on some kind of photo editor!

I am growing my hair. I've been doing so for a few years now. This is the longest it's been in....forever. My daughter, Chloe says to me whenever I get her to brush it for me, "Mum! Your hair hasn't been this long since the 90's!"

She's right. I think it was this long back in 1996 when I had my youngest. After I had her I left it a couple of weeks and then I lopped off my hair. I think lopping it off meant that I had one less thing to take care of! Caring for a newborn and three other children was enough!

My hair has been a kind of mental battle ground for me. Most of the time when I was growing up I had short hair. It wasn't something I wanted. I loved long hair and wanted it so much, but prior to becoming a teenager I didn't really care about taking care of my hair so the person who had to decided that short hair was best.

When I was old enough to take care of my hair and cared about how I looked I was often told that, "Long hair is too much on a Little Person. You need to keep it short." I was a people pleaser, so I did what made others happy.

In the 80's I had my fair share of TRAGIC tight perms! We had a mobile hair dresser who had cheap rates and would come to our house and take care of all our hair-care needs. Trouble is she only knew how to do ONE kind of perm - cut it in short layers and curl it within an inch of it's life!

Ok....ok....ok....because I love you all so much I'll show you......

Photo of a photo of me at 18 in September 1985. I'm being silly and pretending I'm pregnant. A year later.....I was!

Like I said......tragic!

But it was still short, because that's what I was led to believe looked best on me.....because I was short. Short statured people like me weren't supposed to have long hair, regardless of the fact that my best friend at the time (who was also short like me) had the most gorgeous, long, wavy hair and I thought it looked absolutely beautiful. Others agreed that she had beautiful hair, but she should've kept it short....because, in their opinion, it would look better.

Over the years I have challenged those voices and the belief in my own head of what fashion or look I am limited to.

There are no rules, there are no limits.

I don't have to stick to a particular style just because someone else said it looks better.

I have learned the difference between fact and opinion.

For far too long I have been led by the opinion of a minority of voices. I am free to wear my hair in whatever style I want - even if I want to go back and do another one of those horrendous 1980's perms! (not on your sweet Nelly!!!)

I've stopped thinking that I shouldn't wear this because of my size or I'm too old for that.

I like what I like, and that's ok. I love exploring what I like. I like discovering what I don't like. I'm led by my own eyes and my own thoughts and feelings. I'm learning to trust myself. I'm learning to be ok when others have a different opinion. I consider them and then decide if it's right for me rather than just automatically give in to the need to people please. What's the line in that old song?

"But it's alright now. I learned my lesson well. 
You see, you can't please everyone, so you got to please yourself."

Garden Party by John Fogerty

I'm growing my hair because I love the feel of it. I feel feminine and sexy with long hair. I may keep growing it and then dreadlock it.

There are days I want to shave it all off to a #3 all over. I will do this one day. Not right now though, but when I do it'll be because I want to, not because someone thinks I should.

My useless post

Source

This post is in response to Maxabella's and Alison's - just for the complete fun of it and because you know, I love jumping on a bandwagon now and then.

I've been working on the Quality System here at work. You'd think that would be a useful thing. You know, making sure things are streamlined, using the same fonts, things filed and archived and referenced with hyperlinks to corresponding documents and the like. It should make things easier for people.

You know, a place for everything and everything in it's place - registered and referenced and updated.

No one uses it. Or so it seems.

"Leisa, how do I.........?????"

"Leisa, where is.....?????"

"Leisa, what's the password for.......?????"

"Leisa, who is our contact at.....?????"

It's all there, black and white, clear as crystal.........you stole Fizzy Lifting Drink! You bumped into the ceiling which now needs to be........

Oops.......got carried away. Willy Wonka up there distracted me.

It's all there in the Quality System. There's a Work Instruction for practically everything, No one uses it though.....which is kind of disheartening because that's a whole heap of work hours spent on something no one uses.

Whatever. It pays the bills.

And that, dear friends, is my useless post!

Days end

At the end of the day I am grateful for:

•    a wee furry face who greets me with adoration, hugs and doggy kisses.
•    a place to call my own, at least for a while, as I work out where to from here.
•    for the stars that are so vivid, numerous and bright, away from the harsh lights of suburbia.
•    for the chance to relax and unwind and ponder deep thoughts.

What are you grateful for tonight?

All is quiet

It's been quiet around these here parts.

I've been struggling. A lot.

I've realised it doesn't take much to tip the scales. I guess I've always been a fragile little thing. That may come as a surprise to many of you. I inhabit the outward persona of a fierce warrior Mama, ready to defend her kids, stand up for herself and not take too much bullshit. Truth is, all that's a facade, erected to protect the very insecure mouse - type creature that lives within.

Fact.

There have been some things that have happened lately that have done more than slightly tip the scales. They've kind of up ended them, swung them around a few times and hurled them into the wide, blue beyond. It's taking me a while to set them right again....and I've entertained some dark thoughts.

Some people in my actual life wonder why I expose my vulnerabilities so publicly on a blog. Some of them feel uncomfortable; reading their own parts in my story as I write, feeling exposed, even though I carefully and mindfully make sure I keep their stories out of my writing. Their stories are, after all, their stories and I have no right to write them.

So I don't.

It wasn't until I saw Caroline Bowditch's show Falling in love with Frida a couple of weeks ago that I saw the power of owning and telling one's own story in whatever way one chose to tell it. There, on stage and in front of an audience, my friend Caroline told her story in as much detail as she wanted. There were things that I'd heard whispers of...but there she was, telling the stories in all their glorious truths, in her own words, in her own way.

And I felt empowered to do the same.

Tell your story Leisa. Tell your story and own it. For too long others have done it for you and mashed it up to a pulpy mess.

Tell it so that you have power in the words.

As an avid reader of blogs and other people's stories I am constantly in awe of people who tell their warts and all tales and own them. I read myself in their words and I realise that I am not alone and adrift in this sea that sometimes threatens to take me away. There are others who wrestle with the same demons in the same darkness...and in telling their stories, in exposing themselves so openly, so honestly, they show me that no matter how dark it gets, I'm not alone and that things will eventually be ok.

So that's why I write like this. Because you might be reading this and you might just want to read those five most hopeful words:

"YOU'RE GOING TO BE OK!"

You might be a person with dwarfism and you might need to read the story of another short statured person who, even though she is loved and healthy and happy-ish and has accepted herself and her condition, would take that magic cure in a heartbeat if she could.

Because I would.

And that's OK!  That's my story. It's ok to feel this. It's not ok to deny it and feel bad for feeling it. I haven't "let the side down".  It's my truth.

My truth today is that I'm struggling.  I'm sad and grieving intensely for a life I thought I had and a life I always wanted ever since I was a little girl. Sometimes there is no happily ever after,  no matter how much you might want it and work for it. Sometimes you have to know when to stop working and just let it go.

The fight has gone out in this petite warrior and she now just has to feel all the feels and work out where to go from here.