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.

Our spot

Balnarring Beach

Maya and I love this little spot, so much so that we think it's Paradise. It is Maya's most favorite spot in the whole world - although sometimes I get the impression with Maya that her favorite spot is where ever I am. Oh the love of a dog folks! It is just so pure and simple. You are just their whole world, their everything.

Maya knows when we are going to the beach. She senses it even before we leave the house sometimes. I don't do anything to indicate to her that we are going. I don't pack a towel. In fact, when we are going for a beach walk all I take is her lead and the car keys. That's it.

But she knows.

I wind down the window for her and she stands up and sticks her head out, ears streaming behind her, big smile on her face. We turn down the road leading to the beach and she starts to whimper excitedly. She smells the sea air and she's just one little bundle of pure joy.

At low tide we love peering into the rock pools that are left behind. 

On the beach she becomes happy and energetic. Lately she's been giving out short, excited yaps and bouncing about.

"You want to run, don't you girl?"

So we run a little way...and for a short while she seems like that energised puppy all over again. Her heart murmur that normally makes her heart thunder in her chest seems to have given some reprieve and she is able to run with me. We don't run far - not even 100 metres - but for that short time it is just Maya and me again, running for the sheer enjoyment of it.

She even loves paddling through the water with me - especially in the water of the rock pools. She won't go in for a swim, but loves a paddle.

I decided last Friday that every Friday for the next 12 months Maya and I will go to the beach - rain, hail, storm or shine. Maybe I'll take the camera with me. Maybe I won't. When we are on the beach I am enjoying being totally present - no phone, no camera, no Facebook, no Instagram. Just Maya and me, enjoying the sun, the sea, the smell of the salty air, the sound of the sea birds and the gentle waves rolling in.

I can't believe I finally live where I've always wanted to be - in a small country town near the sea.

Up high

I love being up high.

I remember when I was a little girl I used to love being up in my Daddy's arms. I would look around and down to the ground and think there was no higher place to be. The world looked entirely new and different.

I wondered what it was like being up that high all the time.

Even now when I'm doing things up on a ladder I like to just pause, look and wonder at that different world.  What would it be like having that view as your normal every day?

One day, I'd like to climb Everest. Can't get much taller than that.

Up in the highest seats in the dance studio.

Acorns

I've always loved acorns.

There's so much potential wrapped up in an acorn. Just imagine! Those enormous, shady trees coming from this sweet little parcel. 

Amazing!

They always remind me of little faces with cosy hats. Sometimes I find my hands longing for a black marker when I pick one up. I want to draw a little face on it...and find a way of fashioning a little body somehow. 

When I was a little girl I loved picking up the little acorn "caps". I would think they were bowls for fairies. I'd fill them with flower petals and leave them under trees, imagining that the petals were sweet honeycomb that the fairies could eat. In my mind I could see fairies and imaginary woodland creatures wherever I went. I believed that the fairylands that I read about in my Enid Blyton books truly existed. 

Secretly......I still do.

But acorns hold a very special meaning for me. 

After my son was born, his Granddad (my late father-in-law) was holding him. He was holding his sweet little starfish shaped trident hands - which is a feature of achondroplasia. As he was holding my son and looking at his hands, my father-in-law said to him in the beautiful, quiet way that was just so him......

"He's a little acorn.
Remember what little acorns grow up to be Tim.
They grow up to be mighty oak trees."

It was one of the most beautiful moments I've ever witnessed.