Road Trippin' Home

Dad, Mum & Maya - McLoghlin's Beach. Jan 2, 2015

I do enjoy a little spontaneity now and again. Yesterday, on a whim, I decided to toss a few things into the car and head off down the South Gippsland Highway to visit my parents.  For some reason I was really feeling the pull of home. Despite the fact that we left the area in 1974 I still have this sense that the place of my birth is still "home" and it has nothing to do with the fact that my parents have moved back there. Now and again I feel an innate sense that I need to go back there to feel the soil, sand and the sea air. I hop in the car and just go. This was the first time I went on my own.

I wonder why I feel that tug now and again? Does everyone feel it? Is there a place that each of us longs for? You know, I don't even mind that most of the people I knew from my childhood are no longer down there and have moved on. I just love the area, the smells, the feel. I can drive those roads and they're so familiar, so comforting. I drive through the streets of the town of my birth and I marvel that even though things are more modern, everything still feels the same. Nothing has changed beyond recognition and it is all so familiar and so comforting that I feel as though I have been enveloped in a warm blanket each time I go there. It's as though I know exactly who I am, where I've come from and, strangely enough, where I am going. I come back to my current home and it's as though my tanks have been refilled. I'm refreshed and calm and have a sense of my place in the world again.

Yesterday was a best day and I've needed a best day for a while. I'm kind of struggling with this new "Mum but no longer Mum"status and have felt a little disenfranchised - still having the title "Mum"but no longer having the responsibility that comes with that word. I know that this is simply a natural progression of life and my mothering journey, but instead of all my chickens flying the nest slowly over time it was this Mama Bird that flew away, starting a new life. It happened suddenly and although I (and they) know it was a right decision, I am still wandering around kind of lost, not quite knowing what my role is. I know it will all work out with the progression of time and that soon this "new life"will just be life, but right now it's all very strange and confusing.

I think that is why I needed to go home. I needed to once again walk in the place where life began for me. I needed to connect to my roots so that I could feel grounded again.

Since getting back last night I've felt calm, safe, connected. I feel my strength renewing. I'm looking forward to the blank canvas that is 2015.

Owning It

Ok, so not the clearest shot...but whatever...you get the picture.

All my adult life I've felt as though I've been pretending. Maybe it's like that for a lot of other adults too. I'd be interested to hear from other adults after reading this post.

I don't know why this is. I don't know if it's because I occupy this body. I'd love to explore the psychology behind it. I've always said. "I only feel different when someone points it out to me, or reminds me, or tells me I am."

Truth is, I've struggled with feeling like a "real" anything.

I never felt like a real teenager.

I've struggled with feeing like a real woman.

I was never really having sex.

Getting pregnant before marriage was something that didn't really happen "to people like me".

And how could I really be "Mum" to that baby they just placed in my arms and told me was mine?

Of course the natural consequences of certain actions kind of shot those illusions in the face.

I've been a mother for 28 years, someone's significant other for 29 years and an "official" adult for almost 30 years and all this time I've felt as though I've been "playing grown ups". There have been times I've thought, "I'm not old enough for this s#!%!" There have been times I haven't known what to do so have just bungled my way through until I've worked it out the way I think it should be done. When the kids have come to me for advice it's like we're all just trying to work it out together. Sometimes they're the ones to pull me into line because I say and do the most ridiculous things.

Today that all kind of confronted me when someone commented, "You look like a REAL runner!" after seeing this photo.

To which I replied:

"Maybe because I am a real runner. :-)"

I didn't take it as an insult. In fact, I truly appreciated the comment because it moved me towards claiming for myself what is really true. And as I said that I was a REAL runner I felt a sense of pride and acceptance.

I am no longer just pretending, playing house, playing grown ups, dressing up.

I am REAL.

And I am a runner. A REAL runner. 

.

Light House

I've been silent on the blogging front lately. There's always a measure of guilt when this happens for the simple reason that I feel that if you intend being a blogger then you should commit to that somewhat and update at least once a week. Yes I do this for me, my own therapy...but I also do it to be read. I'm not going to deny that. Let's be honest, bloggers write to be read and if you're not going to write people aren't going to hang around waiting until you do - although I must admit I do tend to leave people on my blogroll even though it may be months before they update. I love their stories enough to hang around just in case.

Just because I haven't been writing doesn't mean I haven't been writing some kind of narrative in my head. I'm normally inspired when running. It's like my head clears out all unneccesary dross and begins to see things clearly. It formulates ideas and puts them into cohesive and interesting sentences, attaches photos and even films a video with accompanying inspirational soundtrack and VoiceOver. Silly really. 

Sometimes I wish I could be an observer of my own life, writing notes and putting them out there on this blog so that the "dwarfism awareness" message can be fully told. I guess I'm just busy with the actual doing of a very average life to spend much time documenting that for those people who have just given birth to a child with dwarfism. I know though that our stories - the stories of we adults with dwarfism living very average, "normal", happy lives - are vitally important to these people and their families. We are like lighthouses in the dark, showing them the way and assuring them that all will be well. 

And it's the fact that we live our "average" lives that is so reassuring. I don't really think they care about whether or not there are short statured people in parliament, or leading in their field of medicine or surgery, or the managing director of their Very Important Company. No. These parents want to know things like, "How did you learn how to tie your shoes, negotiate the playground, cope in a public restroom, drive a car, cope with people staring, conduct yourself in an interview?" They want the daily things, the mundane, the things that most people take for granted day by day. They're interested when I post a picture on Facebook showing the type of seat that I find the most comfortable on a train. They feel reassured when they read about me participating in a Fun Run along with 22,000 other Melburnians. They want to know where I buy my clothes and who alters them to fit me.

Over the past few weeks I've been reflecting on my past tendency to almost withdraw from life simply because I was tired of being noticed. I realised I didn't do myself, my family or the community any favours. The kids and I have discovered that since coming out of a "safe" private school environment and entering public school and a more public arena we receive less harassment and more friendliness. The more we're out and about, doing our thing, participating in community and public events, the better it is for us. 

I have become more confident as a result. In the past I would have been scared to participate in a Fun Run and would only reluctantly do so if I had company. Now I register because I love to run and I don't mind that I do it on my own. I don't care about what people might be thinking. Why was I once so presumptuous to believe that I knew what they were thinking? They could see me and think, "She's short. I wonder if she'll last the distance?" or "Good on her!" or "I'm glad I wasn't born like her!" or "Oh! Great haircut!" or they may even be looking right through me and are wondering what they'll cook for dinner. My point is, what does it matter anyway? I'm here! I'm alive! I love it!

And I guess that's the face I want to show to the world. I want to show the face of a person who is filled with more light than she could have possibly imagined, who lives and loves and adapts to a physical world that isn't always built to her specs. I want to show them someone who is getting out there and being "average" in a not so average body and ROCKING it! I want to show that I'm approachable, friendly, teachable and that I deserve respect in the same way every other soul on this planet does. 

I believe it's possible; in fact I know it's not only possible but is actually happening right now. 

Promoting Dwarfism Awareness just by being me.

Authenticity and the blogging community.

Image source

Authenticity (philosophy) - is the degree to which one is true to one's own personality, spirit or character, despite external pressure. 

Over the past week I have been thinking a lot about the word authenticity and what I believe it means in regards to being true to the self. I have been thinking a lot about this in response to a blog I read, written by a woman I very much admire as a mother, a woman and a seeker of truth. 

This woman has been through things I cannot even bear to think about, and yet in the face of this she chooses to walk in love and gentleness - seeking to respond to the situations she is in, her children, life and people she encounters along her way with love and acceptance. She chooses to blog about her journey and the journey she and her children make each day. Yes, her lifestyle is alternative as she seeks truth for herself and strives towards living authentically, but this makes reading her blog all the more interesting. I am challenged and inspired each time I read her writings and come away with many things to ponder and meditate on in regards to my own life and how I live it. I have met this woman before, albeit briefly, and I found her to be very much as I read her - gentle, full of love and giving.

Each day she works towards being her authentic self and allows her children to live authentically as possible as well. She allows them to choose their own clothes, what they learn about, hairstyles, what they eat, when and how much. She doesn't enforce her own agendas on her children and I know that she has been challenged more than once to remain silent and let them choose for themselves how they wish to present themselves to the world. I find it all wonderfully facinating to watch the process play out. 

But, when you reveal some of your life online and have a blog where you write about the process of becoming authentic, living authentic and your lifestyle choices, it inevitably attracts the readers who watch your every move and pounce on anything they deem as contrary to your own philosphies. I cringe in horror as I read comments that reveal judgemental attitudes, criticism and this seeminly insane desire to catch her up when she stumbles. As time has gone on, she has blogged less and less and I wonder if it's due to the fact that each time she does, even though it may be a lovely piece about their latest travels and discoveries, there will be more than one someone who will criticise her for something. More often than not these comments will be insanely petty.

The latest two that saddened me came in the form of criticising her for shaving her legs. The reader deemed that this was not "authentic". The other was a criticism of her referring to herself and her girls as Gypsies. 

No. Really?

So what if she chooses to shave her legs!? In my mind she IS being authentic to her real self for doing so! Maybe she likes the feel of shaved legs? Maybe she likes the look of her legs when they are shaved? Whatever the case, she shaves them. This is her choice. If she didn't do so because she thought that hairy legs were the trademark of a hippy gypsy and she should do so because this is what everyone expected of a hippy, regardless of how she truly felt about it, then she would not be authentic to her real self. Instead of bowing to this seemingly relentless pressure, she listens to her inner self. She knows what she likes and doesn't like and responds accordingly. She knows her children intimately and fosters their growth and development in a loving, gentle, non-judgemental way. Who on earth are we the reader for criticising her whatever choices she makes? She makes them after careful reflection and thought. Why should she have to live up to readers expectations?

And why should she have to explain to her readers why she took an overseas trip and left her children in the care of others? None of our business! Yet there are readers who seem to believe it's their right to know why. 

Sometimes we as readers seem to think it's our right to appoint ourselves Judge, Jury and Executioner. Trial by Readership....and it's ugly.

So, after pondering these things I have come to the conclusion that being authentic does not have a specific look on the outside. A well groomed woman with immaculate hair, makeup and fashionable attire may be being JUST as authentic to herself as the woman who just lets her hair grow and hang in a messy ponytail, wearing no makeup and wears loose flowing shirts and jeans with bare feet. It's all a case of responding to your own inner values, not anyone elses. That's what being authentic is. 

I really hope she keeps blogging. I have learned so much from her. I hope she doesn't bow to the pressure of her readership forcing her into their ideal of authentic living. 

Watching them fly

Chloe is studying Film and Television at a local academy. I am excited for her because she's on the path towards her dream. She has always loved film; not just watching them, but the process of making them, the art behind them, lighting, sound, production...everything.

For one of her assignments she had to write a synopsis for a four minute "postcard", including a run sheet, a call sheet, equipment list, prop list, cast list. She had to scout for locations and organise the cast.

She was in her element.

Unfortunately, with the weather and sickness and people being unavailable, the synopsis had to undergo several re-writes, locations had to be changed, cast had to be re-hired. She was in despair but kept soldiering on.

Today she started filming. I was honored to be among the cast of The Gesture and spent a couple of hours on set with Chloe and the crew. There's more to film-making than I first thought. I learned a lot.

Brad and Alessandro set up the camera for another series of shots.

But what I loved most of all was seeing my daughter interacting with others and they with her. I loved seeing them defer to her when it came to the creative process, consult with her about how the shots should be set up. I loved seeing her make decisions with confidence and with a goal in mind. She was managing her cast and crew with professionalism and tact. The crew interacted with her with dignity and respect. I was so proud.

Consulting on the creative process.

All I have wanted was for my children to grow up and find their own place in the world; a place where they will be valued for the people they are and the contributions they make.

This year I have seen that dream slowly take shape. I am so proud.