This exploring oneself stuff is very uncomfortable, quite unsettling and very liberating. My focus has been on healing myself, and doing whatever it takes to do that. But its been mostly external. Surgery, medication, whatever it took. An enforced slowing down, being still (ok, well a bit stiller), attempting to reduce my overachievement stress and focusing on all that is beautiful and here and now has helped me heal. But I have very neatly avoided dealing with the why. B knows how wonderfully I deal with things that make me uncomfortable. Not now. I’m too busy, too tired, too whatever. Ignorance can be bliss. Fear is not. I do believe an accelerated growth of cancer cells is triggered by something. I also do believe that with a depleted immune system due to excess stress, lack of exercise, an A type personality, control freakish tendencies, putting others first, a lack of focus on myself created a fabulous environment for the cancer to thrive. And then some. But still there is the why. The pull the rug from underneath me thing that set it off. Because I do believe it is conflict about something. Something that mattered the world to me.The point for me about exploring the why is not to dwell on it but to understand and release it all and move forward. So in the words of another I lovingly forgive and release all of the past. I choose to fill my life with joy. I love and approve of myself.
Monthly Archives: August 2012
two hundred and twelve
Arienne and I had a giggle as we glimpsed ourselves in the future. These two wonderful women were having a delightfully animated discussion punctuated with peals of laughter on the grass verge next to main beach today. Just like we were. The one had a bun, the other lovely curly hair, just like we do. They were as delightful in reality as I imagined them to be. And loved that I wanted to photograph them. I am grateful for the wonderful reminder that no matter your age or your story, there is always beauty in a moment shared with a friend.
two hundred and eleven
I rushed in to do a quick grocery shop today and found myself mesmerised by this wonderful older couple. They chatted and discussed every little purchase with much intensity and care. I overheard as she told him she’d found some of his favourite mints which she thought he’d enjoy on the journey home. He thanked her. He wandered off on instruction to return a packet of fresh beans to the grocery section. I must admit I was loath to leave their sweet presence but I had to make my selection and move on. I was down the next aisle when I noticed the gentleman shuffling past heading in the opposite direction looking down all the aisles for his wife. I went back to where she was and told her he had gone past looking for her and should I get him for her. She sweetly told me not to worry and headed off after him. Next I saw them it was whilst unpacking their trolley at the checkout and I had to capture them. I didn’t want to intrude by asking for their photograph. Hence my slightly voyeuristic shot. But it was more my observation of them that I was grateful for today. For a little flash of hopefully how B and I will be one day. They were so caring of each other, it genuinely brought tears to my eyes. On leaving the centre I spotted them again, in a little sedan with the elderly gentleman in the driving seat, as he very cautiously backed out of his parking with his precious cargo. Too cautiously for the lady in her 4×4, who rushed past, hooting at him. This threw him a little. I wish everyone would realise that they too will be elderly one day and hopefully somebody will treat them with care, patience, tolerance and respect. I am so grateful to this wonderful pair for unknowingly sharing a bit of their lives with me today. I will hold it dear.
two hundred and ten
This morning as Jem was about to take a shot of our favourite pelican (we are convinced its the same one that comes back to our favourite spot and nothing anyone says will convince us otherwise) a beautiful black labrador frolicking in the river barked with sheer enjoyment and the pelican took off as if shot. The fright Jem got and the laughter that followed was just priceless. I am grateful for this moment of silly spontaneous hilarity.
two hundred and nine
11 August. I’m not superstitious, well not really, but things do come in threes. And especially they say, catastrophes. I love that word, its wonderfully melodramatic. And it has been fairly catastrophic (in a thankfully mundane way but nonetheless) me losing our house and car keys (because I need to tell our mean landlord for the umpteenth time that I’ve lost keys and it seems it’s not a simple matter to replace them but mostly because I hate being in the wrong when it comes to officious difficult people), then smashing my iphone (for the third time, funny that). So today I am grateful B dropped the so very precious spare house key onto a deck, and with my luck, the damn thing fell between the wooden slats. I mean, really. Thankfully to be retrieved but with some effort. But still, I’m grateful because I have decided that is catastrophe number three. And so be it.
two hundred and eight
two hundred and seven
I love a good cup of hot tea. Its comforting. It feels like home. It stills me as it warms me. It is such a simple pleasure that I don’t always ponder. And that I definitely take for granted. Tonight I am grateful for a cup of tea, for the realisation of how therapeutic it actually is. And because it means it’s nearly bedtime.
needy
I’m not enjoying Kate being away. It’s day 4 now. Yes, it’s fabulous for her and what an opportunity and wow she has become so independent and shoo wee how proud of her we are. Yadda yadda yadda. I bloody miss her. I’d be cool if I could just text, you ok? and get yip back with a smiley face. I really do hope she is having a fabulous time. But it’s just weird not having her home, especially knowing its for one whole month. And that I can’t talk to her or text her or message her. I’ve always been prone to instant gratification. Now has always worked for me. Ask B. And I miss my nightly teeaaaa please. And bloody little shit should have written a letter by now surely. I mean the australian postal system is so fabulous, isn’t it. I just want to know she’s ok. And that she has all she needs, that she’s sleeping ok, that she’s eating ok, that her friends are being kind, that the camp leaders are ok, that she’s not too cold, that she’s not too hot, that she gets to have her tea at night, how the cooking’s going, where the bathroom is, has she cleaned out the long drop loos yet, when does she go on her solo, are her torches working ok, is her sleeping bag cosy, is her throat still sore. Ok, so my control issues are still a little out of control. Do you think its a bit much if I ask the post office again how often they clear the post daily. I mean the lady I asked yesterday could have been a temp?
two hundred and six
B has always had odd yet strangely perfect nicknames for the girls, often to do with whatever was dominating his life or theirs at any given time. I remember Jem being Lampard for a long while, a chelsea footballer. There is no significance as B is actually an arsenal supporter. B’s current nickname for Kate is KinKin. Also no significance. Anyway, we are under strict instructions to write to Kate daily, and B’s offering today was mostly a logo design. With a small paragraph. And a shot of Usain Bolt. Kate will love it. I am grateful our daughters have grown up with creativity every single day. It is part of who they are. Damn that it hasn’t rubbed off on me, I wrote three very long pages. Full of love and daily shit, but not much creativity. It is part of who I am. And anyway Kate would never forgive me if I just sent her a logo.







