The pull of home.

As I headed down the South Gippsland Highway yesterday I felt the old, familiar tug of my heart that tells me I'm going home. Past the rolling green hills, through the little townships that are so pretty with their huge flower plots in the middle of the road and their sweet little shops and houses, around the windy roads through lush, green bush. The roads are so familiar, even though I haven't driven myself very often. I remember riding them with my family, my Dad at the wheel. Still, yesterday I felt sure of the way; my heart being the navigator. This was the country I was born in, the places my brothers and I explored, the place that my heart longs for and has done for so long. Thirty four years of longing...

And it's the place to which my parents are returning. I think they've always longed for it too. I received news on Thursday that they had bought a fully furnished little cottage in McLoughlin's Beach - 20 minutes out of Yarram, where they both grew up, went to school, worked, got married and had the first five of their seven children. They're going back home and I haven't seen them so excited for a very long time. Yarram will be their closest town. They will do their grocery shopping there, go to church there. I'm so happy for them.

I visited them yesterday down in Port Welshpool where they are preparing my Nanna's house (Dad's mother, who died 14 years ago) for sale. It is the right decision. The house would need too much work for my parents to live in. Over the 14 years that my Nans defacto was living there he allowed it to disintegrate to an apalling state. The bathroom wasn't cleaned one so the walls were black with mould, the soap scum in the shower was so thick that Dad had to scrape it off with a paint scraper. And the junk! Nan was a terrible hoarder. Some of the things would have been quite valuable at some stage, but things haven't been kept well and they've been allowed to rust and rot and break till there's no point keeping them. Sad really.

Nans house is a mystery to me. It stirs memories that I can neither understand nor make sense of. They come from somewhere dark where I think the little me of back then filed them away so I wouldn't have to think of them. Memories of people I choose not to think of too much, names I'd rather not remember, a dark night with a howling wind. I can't make sense of the memories, so I choose not to. Always have. I think it's better this way.

I took Mum and Dad for a drive into Port Albert. I wanted to see the boats and the jetty, another place that holds golden memories. It was beautiful. We ran into my Dad's brother Bill, who we found dozing in his car, watching the water & the boats. My Uncle Bill is a fisherman, always lived boats and fishing and the ocean. He told us that he's been having trouble sleeping, so he heads down to the jetty to watch the sea & the boats and it soothes him to sleep. The pull of the ocean is strong.

We drove into Yarram and passed a house that my Nanna's best friend owned. My mother, my brothers and sisters and I stayed there for a week once while the woman was on holidays. Yesterday I told Mum, "There were ghosts in that house." She kind of scoffed at it, but I know it to be true. Children know these things. My Nanna's friend had lost two sons quite tragically. All of us kids could feel them in the house. It was a sad house.

I'm sure that one day the pull of the ocean and the rolling green hills will take me back there again. The yearning has always been there, since I was eleven years old and we moved here. I'm looking forward to it. No plans as yet but somehow I know that I'll be there one day. My parents look content and happy. Dad looks flat out excited. The stories just poured from him yesterday and the hope was once again shining in his eyes.

Another golden day.

Journey

I feel as though I took a journey, completing the Art & Soul course - a journey of self discovery and expression, spiritual discovery and processing a lot of things that have happened over the past 15 years. I feel as though I was stuck in the process of grieving for the past 15 years and now I'm in a time of awakening and celebration. Simple things are now filled with such appreciation and gratitude - the food I eat, the running I do, the blissful sleep that tends to fill my nights these days, the simple act of appreciating people for the small acts of kindness they bless me with; time with my kids and learning more about them, what interests them, engaging in conversation about things they contemplate, the passions they have, their dreams & inspirations. My mind is filled with seeds of dreams and plans I want to see happen.

Happiness is a journey, not a destination; and happiness is something I'm now choosing on a daily basis. I feel as though I'm being given a second chance - to do all the working out of who I'm supposed to be that should have happened many, many years ago in between being someone's daughter & becoming someone's wife. The act of buying my own car being the first of many experiences to come. I catch myself in the process of contemplating a trip to New Zealand, realizing I'm "free" to do this and my planning to make this happen is not dependent upon someone else's opinion or agenda. It's a freeing feeling.

I love being single. I haven't been "single" ever. Maybe this is the reason I found the separation so hard. But now I'm ok and will continue to be so.

Fly little birdy

I've just left my big girl at the departure lounge of the international terminal at the airport. Today she's winging her way to Los Angeles. This is her first international trip on her own.

I am unafraid and so incredibly proud of her. Over the past 18 months since she moved out I have watched her work out her own way. I have no longer been able to hover & anticipate problems. She's worked them all out for herself, so much better than I ever could do for her. She's learned to (figuratively) stand on her own two feet, stand up for herself, work out her own way, search for her own path. She's made mistakes and learned from them. She's had incredible triumphs, some failures...but none that have left her beaten.

As I travel back to the city on my own, leaving my girl winging her way across the ocean, I feel as though my mothering role has come to an end today...and I am not sad, but rather left with a feeling of complate satisfaction and a sense of pride. I will always be her mother, but we are now equals and friends. She can fly on her own now, and I am glad. Maybe this is the ultimate goal of parenting; to see them fly free to discover for themselves who they are meant to be. She will always be mine, but she also belongs wholly to herself, and that makes my heart soar

The Precious...and more running

Hey guys,

I bought a new car yesterday. Me! The owner of a BRAND NEW, silver, Ford Festiva XL! I've never bought my own car before. Ever! I've never even been the part owner of a new car...so this is a big one for me. I'm as excited as a kid in a candy store. It's a good feeling.

Yesterday I had 8/9ths of my family here for afternoon tea. So fun. So lovely to see those who came. Emotional batteries have been recharged. I've been grounded again. I've been with my people. I feel a sense of belonging again.

I ran again today - even further this time. I finished off the run with a lap around the 1.1km reserve across the road. I think I'll be ready for the 5km course for the annual Run For The Kids next March. I'm going to enter. Then, if I do well at that I might train for the 14.5km course the year after. Goals. I need them.

More than running

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This would be my ideal run. I wish....



This morning I ran my entire running circuit for the first time. Usually I schedule a couple of small breaks, and I look forward to them so much. My goal though, has been to get to a point where I run the entire circuit, no stopping.

Today I did that.

I hit the wall early in my run. I always have. The wall hits around about 200m into the run. My breathing seems erratic and I'm sucking in oxygen for all it's worth. My legs tell me that they don't want to do it. My mind says, "Oh God! Today I can't do this!" and then I argue with myself, "Yes you can! It's just the wall. You know the wall! Keep going!"

Today I hit the wall and I had all the same thoughts....and then my mind drifted off and I started thinking about mundane tasks...like making a battery cover for my daughters wheelchair....organising transport to the airport....the Opening Night I am attending tonight....and I forgot about the pain and the discomfort....and I got to my first walking break point and I thought, "Hey! I'm feeling good. I'm going to keep going!"

So I did....and my mind kept wandering and meandering around all the things happening in my life lately...and I was distracted from the protests of my body....and I continued to feel good. My breathing was controlled and regular, my form was good. And I kept going...and going...until I got home.

My running is more than just running. It is my grounder, my sanity saver, my anchor. It helps me put things into perspective. It clears my mind. It soothes raw emotions. It makes me feel strong, alive.....and most of all, in CONTROL. When all else seems to be going haywire, this is the one thing that enables me to see that I have a measure of control over myself and what happens to me.

I don't know why I have let others have control. I don't know when I learned that behaviour. I guess it comes with being the eldest of seven, the one who was supposed to get it right, be responsible, show the way, be good, be an example. People mattered to me. People's emotions mattered to me. Being "good" mattered to me. Being liked mattered to me....and it still does. I know I have no control over that...but sometimes it feels like I should...and that if someone doesn't like me that it is somehow my fault...that I have done something wrong...that I am bad. When did that happen? How did I get that message?

But running gives me reprieve from that...and I start to feel strong again, and good again...and right again. It's like I've conquered something more than the distance and more than my body. It's like I've started to stand up and challenge those strange and false beliefs.

Nowhere close

I'm nowhere near ok at the moment. Not even within cooee of it. Maybe I'm putting on an ok face at the moment, maybe I'm not. I look in the mirror and see this skinny little sad eyed person who looks eons older than she should be. I can tell I'm not ok. Can anyone else? Does anyone know how often I look into the streaming traffic and wonder how quickly it would be over if I just walked into it?

I'm walking around as half a person. That's what it feels like. The other half of who I was has walked off and just despises me for breathing I think. Do you know what that feels like - to have the person you used to love more than life despise you like that?

I know there are billions of people who are infinitely worse off than me, but I feel bereft right now, loveless, terrified, discombobulated, strange.

In which she reviews the situation

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Today has been one of "those" days. I didn't think we'd ever get to a situation where we'd have one of these days but we have.

I need to take serious stock of how we are going to move forward into total independence and set myself a timeline as to when it will all be achieved.

Some of these things will be totally out of my control as they rely on the decisions of others that I definitely have no control over - funding bodies for example, people building a wheelchair according to our specifications. Unfortunately, the wheelchair funding and building will be the biggest catalyst for us becoming fully independent.

And being fully independent is what we need to get out of a rapidly deteriorating situation right now.