Great.

You gotta love hopping on board someone else's applecart - thanks Romy for blogging about 365grateful this morning. I'm in.

Here's why. As winter rolls in it becomes easier to stick my head under the pillow, give in and sit in my aches. Some awful muscle memory kicked in this past Saturday and my muscles and connective tissue and mind all recalled that cold feeling. Heavy limbs drag down my heart and the black dog curls up inside my head, and it feels like there's nothing I can do. Last year was a doozy - days on end (or was it months?) spent crying and spinning around the endless litany of "you're a dickhead/fool/loser/idiot" with the cruelest parts of my internal monologue hissing at me, quietly, but louder than anything else I could muster. Crying into the sink as I washed dishes. Urgh! Fuhgeddaboutit.

I'd like very much to not disappear into that again, this year. I think my partner would wish the same for me and for us. All of us are different, but I identified with some of the feelings in this article and this one. It's a shitty, shitty illness. Mine came about after about six years of chronic pain wearing me down. That pain is quite a lot worse in winter (think Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz pre-oil can), and my body remembers that, and despair sets in. Melancholia. Whatever word you want to give it, it bites the big one.

What we are, we attract.  What we think, we attract. Saturday meshed into Sunday, and Sunday into Monday. I made french toast with cinnamon and maple syrup - Tracey prefers hers savory, and I forgot (there are no spaces for memories), and it was like a punch in the guts. I went back to bed. So much time in bed. Heavy and sad and lost, head pounding. I got up for work, went through the motions talking to the invisible people at the other side of what I was doing and got stuck in a traffic jam on the way home. Feeling intense anxiety and sadness for whoever was in the accident that slowed down our lives a little, picturing them in the ambulance, seeing their family in my mind hearing the news that someone had happened to the person they loved. It all seems like too much.

That night I got a fantastic nights sleep, and woke up completely different on Tuesday morning. Interested and productive and mobile. Today I'm grateful for that shift. Yesterday it was like I'd dodged a bullet, I was absolutely delighted in my own different perspective and lighter outlook. Hold on to it, please.

It's energising, feeling grateful. The majority of the time I can articulate what it is that I'm lucky to have, be, think and feel in my life. Sometimes a fog rolls in and it's tricky to see what's what. Maybe this will help.


"In early 2008, in an effort to fight depression, Hailey started a year long photographic project which involved taking one Polaroid photo a day of something she felt grateful for. Initially this was a chore but eventually it became a delight."

This is part of the view from my desk, and it's something I'm so grateful for. That enourmous gumtree in our front yard is 80% of the reason we moved to this house. So lovely in every season, smells amazing in the rain and flowers in the spring. I love being surrounded by so much green, and the smell of eucalyptus lets me know I'm home.


So that's day 1. Will you join me? 

Lovely sleeplessness - part two of Losing A Friend

It's 11:47 and it's been bucketing down for a good hour, that lovely blankety feeling mixed with the slightly buzzy awakeness of the 19th hour of being awake. The peak after the dip.

It's delicious, this quiet house feeling. This is the time when things get done that can't possibly happen when there's washing to be done, dishes to put away, mail to sort, chickens to feed, fire to stoke, kitty litter to change (finally). This time - slightly mad, a bit itchy and everything feeling so sneaky - is when the best things happen.

I quietly fire up iTunes and at last I can hear this tune that's been swinging around in my head for days. Gently as she goes, my favourite parts are 'shiny shiny sky' and the oohoohoohs after ..'there's a window there'. I listen to music all the live long day, but moments to pass time enjoying something just for fun and to satisfy a want often fall short of getting everything done. This banjo! It seems to match my calmed heartbeat. Gorgeous. I've been waiting for yonks to have some time with those oohoohoohs.

So I've been meaning to write an update to this post. Yesterday it was two months (not exactly to the day) since Rel passed away, and I wanted to check in. How are you doing? Leave a comment, I'd really like to know.

I say two months because it was a Tuesday when I found out. I had just got my hair cut, I'd had acupuncture earlier that day, and I'd stayed in town on Monday night on a friends couch so I could do my city slicker appointments. I had talked with Sam my hairdresser about Rel because we both knew her. I told her she wasn't very well, worse than she had been before. We were worried. Then I got the call about twenty minutes later.

I will always be grateful to Dans for calling to tell me. There's some pretty hardcore bonding that goes on when that kind of information passes on from one person to another. It takes moments but you remember it for the rest of your life. A piece of your world smashes to smithereens and you know it. It was a difficult drive home down the Monash, I didn't know what to do (but I was driving so what was there to do but arrive at my destination?) It felt like such a lonesome journey knowing that Rel wasn't going to be around anymore.

Yesterday I had slept on the floor of my friend Adam Quayle's loungeroom, took myself out for breakfast and went to acupuncture, did a quick pop in at Heide to get something from the gift shop there and then went for my haircut. We talked about Rel, and babies, and life out of town, and trashy tv shows. I'm doing ok, I realised. I'm past the worst hideous parts.

I had hit the deck with a pretty bad flu about a month ago with nothing to do but lie there and feel miserable. Fever and an extremely runny nose and a lot of whining to my partner. Such discomfort for about a week. Lots of tv and sweaty sleep, soup and delirium and salty potato chips. I craved plastic tasteless frozen pizza, so Tracey went out and fetched some for me. It was such a crucial part of the grieving process for me, (the flu, not the pizza). I had to grind to a halt and sweat it out. I bounced back to functioning after the usual time and rest, changed ever so slightly from before the flu.

Now I'm at a point where I think of Rel constantly, but it's different. Every day I miss her, but there's no longer a confusion about when I'll be seeing her. No more tiny nanoseconds of crushing realisation. These days it stops me in my tracks more to try and imagine how her closest people are traveling along, my heart breaks for them and my eyes well and I wonder how on this everloving earth they are. No, that's not it. I wonder and I can send a message or make a phone call and find out. It's not that, it's more hoping they're ok. Hoping and wishing that this day will be kind to them. With such great love comes a ripping void at the end of a life, when we are apart. I wish with all that I am that this moment and this day and this week will be ok for Rel's people. I wish for bursts of happiness and light and laughter (but is that too much to ask?) if not now, then some day.

Yesterday after my haircut, instead of driving home and remembering feeling so horribly lost and alone I popped in on Dans, Rel's bestie. She kindly offered me Rel's mug to sip tea from and we had a lovely chat and walked her dog Bundy. Our visit had all the best elements - chats and dogs and records and tea and a walk and some autumnal foliage and honesty and connection. It did me good. Both of us, really.

I read a quote from David Steindl-Rast that Pip put on Facebook the other day "The root of joy is gratefulness" and it rang out like a bell. I am so grateful for cups of tea with my new friend, met through our old friend. It means so much.

Now as I sit here in the stillness listening to Sweet Jean on a low volume appropriate for 12.38 am, I remember that two weeks before she passed away Rel sms'ed me while I was on air and had played one of their tracks, asking about who they were. She looked them up but found nothing to buy yet on iTunes. Their album comes out over the next month or two, and I bet she would have loved it.

Cutting It Short

Spent the day yesterday at the Emerging Writers Festival and attended an excellent session on short stories. One of the panelists said that there has never been a better time to reinvent the format and write in whatever style you see fit.

If you're like me you constantly have ten million ideas rolling around like marbles in your head, and dismiss so many because they're not tom bowlers. (Are they Skittles? Empty calories and ingredients that read as numbers. Showbags - full of shit.)





My attention span is short and slow to catch on sometimes. I wonder if I could write from that place. What would happen? Would it be terrible? Who cares, do it anyway. Romy posted a great blog on Haiku the other day - about the wonderful healing aspects of being present in a single moment and documenting it. Don't worry so much about the 5-7-5 structure, just let the words tumble their way out. Short and sweet.


Here are some chunks, from my mind to you.  

Every time I get in the car
I adjust the rear view mirror.
Often akimbo, what happens?
For the longest time I thought
Someone had rummaged through
My car and knocked it,
Or I had nudged it with my handbag
(always too full of things I don't really need)
But I realised finally
It's my spine that keeps changing.

*

I found myself in a room of some importance, dwarfed by dead white men - all ten feet tall and framed in gold. Pointing at books, holding scrolls, none smiling - some in velvet pantaloons. I was all alone and loving it, in a room full of people. The words washed over me and I didn't understand many of them, truth be told. I haven't had the academic experiences of so many and sometimes that leaves me yearning for better mental health in my late teens, a greater capacity to push through and sit in that discomfort, even the freedom of not giving a damn about the others. But that hasn't been the way of things. I sit in a row of people, near the back. I smell halitosis and body odour all around and know that we're all trying our best. Some are concerned about what They think of us. Our time will come - every one of us. I know this to be true because my time has come in everything I really tried my hardest in, and I grew from that small fish to the frog standing on the rock and singing about it. It's so easy to forget those triumphs when you're an amoeba, starting all over again.

*

I crossed Gertrude Street fresh out of a cab, new hair product (salty sea curls), eBay frock and a day of fun ahead and I felt so shit hot that I assumed the person washing the window was waving at me until I saw the sponge.

*

The paralyzing fear of starting: a knot in my gut and a thorn in my side. It took me three months to apply. One day to get accepted. Three weeks to reply to that acceptance with pitches. Four hours to receive a positive email with a go head and request for more info. I'm sitting here, not replying. Not writing it. Thinking about it, marinading, being annoyed at myself, doing brainless admin, social media, chewing my nails, wiggling my toes. Write it, damn you.

*

I came home to her and found after all that, we were both fantasising about the same things. The freedom that being single brings (but not being apart). We'll rearrange our furniture, I'll spend some days in town, she'll have some time alone at home. This is a better us.

A Pain in the Ass - International Fibromyalgia Awareness Day

Today is Mother's Day in Australia, as well as Fibroymyalgia Awareness Day all over the world.

I thought I'd write a post about it because it's one of the categories I find myself in. I'd like more people to have an understanding of fibro. I wouldn't say it's a primary focus, but it tries to be. It edges in to every area of living in one way or another. This isn't always a bad thing but it ain't a walk in the park either.

If you'd like a snapshot definition, there's a pretty good one here.

There isn't a lot of press about fibro, but here are some of the things that spring to mind:

- spoon theory
- purple logos involving flowers and fonts that I must say I don't find aesthetically pleasing
- yuppie flu
- mind/body grey area
- affinity and connection with other conditions and illnesses like chronic fatigue syndrome, lupus, crohn's disease, glandular fever, etc.
- pop culture references: House MD (a person came in complaining of fibro, House gives him tic tacs and tells him it's medicine and he comes back a week later "cured"), The Gilmore Girls (The senior Gilmore's talk about attending a fundraiser for Fibromyalgia and decide that it's "a very dull disease")

The other day I went on a first friend date with a gorgeous lady I met at the Big Hearted Business conference. Lily Mae Martin is a fine artist, writer and mum. We went out with her toddler, and aside from completely adoring each other, wee little lady and I seemed to have a fair bit in common. As we drove to our destination (Heide Gallery for a spot of lunch and artsy appreciation) she wanted to know if we were far away, what would be happening, she was very excited and happy. As we sat down to have lunch (banana milkshake and crepes for toddler, beautiful seasonal salad for Lily and wagyu pie for me) our tiny friend became tired. Her whole face changed in an instant. Oh, I know that feeling! All of a sudden, your whole energy levels just drop. Bang.

Being a 32 year old woman, it isn't really appropriate for me to crack it and cry, but gee whiz that's what I feel like doing sometimes. It's like every ounce of air leaves the energy balloon and you revert to that primal way of getting by before you really learn about the needs of others. Flailing madly, and hoping to make it through.

I absolutely loved spending that time with Lily and her beautiful child, it felt the way it always feels to witness honesty and realness. Toddler gets tired, gets a bit grumpy, mama distracts and loves and supports and negotiates, toddler feels better and relaxes a bit. Toddler reverts to sweetie pie. SO CUTE. (I'm not sure if I'm being clear enough about the levels of cluckiness I'm experiencing at the moment, care for a tonne of bricks?)

The whole day was cute, and I don't believe that the tired behaviour was bad in any way - that wonderful girl was communicating her needs in the best way she knows, and her mama was teaching her all about love every moment of that day by loving her solidly and consistently through the ups and downs, the divine and the difficult.

So how do we love ourselves consistently as adults, when in our core we have the rapidly changing constitution of a tired toddler?

It's not easy, but it is possible.


There's a memory that often pops into my head from nine years ago. I'm 23 and the fittest I've ever been in my life. A psychic had told me I was going to meet someone soon (for holding hands etc), so I wanted to look hot and started walking in the mornings. Lifelong chub melted off me and I was fit and energised, fulfilled in my study and work, and I was at a gig at the Corner Hotel in Richmond with friends. I think it was Spiderbait, or the Lucksmiths, or someone bouncy. I remember that I'd been standing for hours after a full day and I didn't feel tired. I was so happy, and had the awareness to pause in the moment and feel grateful.

It wasn't long after that, that I met the person for holding hands etc. (it turned out to be a woman), worked myself into the ground, the relationship didn't work out in all the worst ways, I had a massive blow-up with my entire friendship group and ended up moving on because I knew I deserved more, I moved into a random Fitzroy sharehouse and after a few weeks the guy in the next room shockingly had a heroin overdose, I had an extremely bad flu, I moved out of the sharehouse and in with my brother, he fell off a roof whilst working and was badly injured (he was very lucky to survive), I injured my shoulder through overuse and got put on anti-inflammatories, I got a haitus hernia and was in agony during the final months of my course, I took on more work anyway, I got injured in a workplace incident and that's when it all stopped.

Quite a list isn't it!  Drama drama drama. Physical, mental, social, work and family drama. I stayed upbeat and positive, somehow. I'm starting to understand now that things may have been different if I could let myself be shitty and angry about all these things that happened. The anger is in my bones now because I wouldn't let myself really feel it.

My body could not cope with all these things, and put a stop to me getting into anything else that would wear me out or upset me. I couldn't get up out of bed. I couldn't move. My arms did not work. It hurt to brush my hair, so I didn't. I went through workcover which was a total head-fuck nightmare and to this day I don't remember much of the next eighteen months or so. I stayed in a bad relationship because I was terrified to do it all on my own.

I finally got a diagnosis when I went to see a sports physio recommended to me by a friend who was good at helping out with weird shit that wouldn't go away. He did a tender point test and told me it was Fibromyalgia after I retched and doubled over with pain, breathless and clammy. I saw a rheumatologist who told me it was Fibromyalgia. He was so kind and gentle. He recommended meditating to help with stillness and acceptance. I read a book and finally understood.

To have a name for something, even if it can't really be fixed, is like being handed a golden ticket to the chocolate factory. It's real. I'm not crazy. I'm not a faker. The guilt and shame of my body going wrong still lingers, but it's mixed in with a healthy dose of reality these days.

My dad got really sad. He couldn't deal with reading the book about it. He dealt with it as best he could, urging me constantly to keep turning stones over and trying new things to get better. Years of turning stones over taught me that those stones and the frantic hope they bring up are more exhausting than any illness could be. These days it's massage, tiger balm, acupuncture, hydrotherapy, osteo and finding my joy as best I can. I do all these things regularly and it may look like a long list but it's a tiny fraction of what I used to squeeze in to each week.

There are a lot of snake oil merchants, miracle treatments, diets, workshops, programs and rehabs. They are all expensive, have caused me a lot of pain and disappointment, and a lot of setbacks. The worst of all though is the bitter sick people. I am so freaking terrified of them - being lumped with them, becoming one of them without realising. I prefer to hide myself away than risk being that person.

Recently I've been trying out being a bit more real, being more honest about why I can't always make it to things people are kind enough to invite me to. Being less ashamed and guilty. It's a delicate balance and challenging to convey to someone you adore that you can't come to their gig because it's not possible for you to be up that late/stand that long/be overstimulated without days of painful consequences - without sounding like a whinger!

Sometimes I'm met with odd reactions like a fast change of topic. I guess it's hard to hear and know these things about someone. I water it down as best I can. If I'm telling you I can't come because of migraines/exhaustion I truly don't need sympathy or for you to do anything for me, I just want you to know that I care about you and would much rather be at your shindig than resting. Resting sucks. I know to some it would be heaven on a stick to have enforced rest, but even when I'm resting it's not restful. My body is screaming at me. My mind is racing with unaccomplished tasks. There's always catching up that needs to happen and never enough fuel in the tank to get it done. I'm worried about taking too many painkillers (I barely take any, they're all over the counter, but still I worry that it's too much). If I don't manage my pain I don't sleep properly. If I don't sleep properly I'm 100% worse than if I did.

I had a brilliant chat in the middle of the night with Larissa Tandy from Iamloveproof and The Strine Singers the other day. You should check out their music because it's freaking beautiful. She'd texted me about a gig she had last night, and I had received a message from her about something else and saw she was online and thought I'd try out that being honest thing.

Larissa:
Tell me about it man. You can find me livin' on chronic pain lane too. What a drainer.


Me: You're so good at rhymes! How the hell do you manage?

L:  I could write a book I reckon. If I had the attention span. 
But really, I've developed an acute ability to disengage (necessary but affects quality of relationships), and an intense focus on the things that bring me joy, like writing songs. You getting treated?

Me: Yeah I get that. You gots to find the joy or what's the point of the slog.

I'm treated all the time, it's just a reshuffling really. I've got fibromyalgia so it's a long haul thing. Annoying.

L: Fark jenny. That's intense.
I'm just wrapping my head around a potential "no cure, lifelong" situation. How the hell? You're right.. It's so annoying!

Me:  What's yours from? I have memories of a hip thing and some surgery. You're freaking amazing to be able to do what you're doing.

L: I have a list. Deformed pelvis. Old injuries that my body won't accept as surgically repaired. And the knock on effect of permanent damage to knees, back, ribs and shoulders. I'm in a weird chicken and egg situation that no one seems able to understand or resolve. It's gettin to the point where I can't play guitar a lot. Upside.. My creative output is only increasing with my need to be distracted.

Me: Holy shit, pelvises are a motherfucker.

Crunchy high five to you sister, go creative output go.

L: Fkyeah! Crunch on! It sucks you're suffering. But thanks for sharing. It's a difficult experience to describe or explain.

 

Me: You too. Chat to me anytime, it's nice to know not so alone in the crunchy old lady action whilst rocking out and being youth.

L: Ha! Gold

I loved what Larissa said about an intense focus on the things that bring joy. It was a bit of an Oprah lightbulb moment to be honest. After the day out at the gallery I was overtired and sore, and didn't sleep til 3 am, then woke at 8. Pain disaster, but totally worth it. Kept going and had another great day. Took it pretty easy yesterday and will again today, so I can launch into this week where I have full on funtimes happening. Radio and teaching, a birthday dinner for a friend in town, a flower arranging class, an exhibition opening in Lilydale, then a friend coming for a sleepover on Friday. Bliss. I'll snatch in bits and piece of rest where I can.

When I let it all grind to a halt, slow enough and still enough for long enough, I get depressed. Way down in the black hole depressed. If I push myself too much I'm in a forced stop, but that feels a bit better than taking on too little. Make sense? It's a constant balancing act. A tightrope walk. Every decision has big consequences. I choose giving it a go and getting amongst it when I can. I completely disengage from my physical body regularly. While that isn't healthy, it's a nice break and a necessary one.

I saw a post on a fibro group on facebook a few weeks ago that a young woman wrote. She said she would rather have cancer than fibro, because when people have cancer everyone rallies around you, brings casseroles, sends positive vibes and checks in and cares about you. Cancer will either kill you or you'll recover. With fibro, nobody seems to understand or care, and it's unlikely to kill you so you know you're going to suffer on and off for the rest of your life. I found it very upsetting and triggering to read that, but also intriguing and kind of brave. When Rel died from cancer in March I realised that was the conversation I never got to have with her. Then I realised I didn't need to have it, because being alive is such a blessing anyway.

I don't connect with the word "suffer" because there is so much more to it than that. Fibro may have caused me to be completely brainfogged all the time, but because of that I'm extremely organised and never let other people down when I've committed to work. I have amazing systems in place to make sure I know where to find things when I have no idea where I put them. My work ethic is through the roof. Perhaps it would be better if I admitted to myself that I do suffer, but it just feels jarring to even type that word. I know that when Rel died she was at peace because her pain was no longer with her, and sometimes I think of that night at the Corner hotel when I was dancing and full of energy and long for those days.. but the days I have now are engineered to be the best and happiest they can be. I'm so thankful for days out with sweet toddlers, midnight conversations about tricky subjects, understanding and love.


In conclusion, kiss your mama today and if you have any pals with fibro - blow em a kiss too!

Whelmed

Whelmed

Last night I was trying to get to sleep and I was listening to a podcast made by the lovely Pip Lincolne of Meet Me at Mikes and JustB fame. I'd had it open in a browser on my iPhone for a few weeks to get to when I found the time and brain space to listen properly. That time came and as I listened to her lovely voice and did nothing else except breathe, I felt a great stillness.

Then I realised the absence of that stillness is pretty much always with me. I'm always so very, very busy in my head. Busy and not achieving much because I'm worn out by all the spinning around of ideas, wants, worries and wonderings that are constantly happening without anything... happening.

Do you know that feeling? I call it the Borders 1999 Feeling. Allow me to explain. In 1999 I moved out of home for the first time, lived at uni and would go on trains and trams and drive myself places without checking in with mum and dad or needing lifts, for the first time. I wasn't far from other people, they were all around me and I gravitated to bookstores and record stores and cinemas and wound up one day at Borders on Chapel Street with a notebook I always carried with me. I started listening to things at the listening station and made myself a little list. That list just kept going, pages and pages filling and spilling with books and albums and I had to sit on the floor because it was all just too much! How would I ever grasp all these things in my hands that I wanted so badly, to fill and expand my mind and line my shelves and surround me wherever I was living?

Good grief. It's lucky we live a long time and have many years of gathering these items and artworks for our nests. I didn't know that then, not really. I was 18 years old and needed it all right now because what if it's too late and it all flies away?

These days I'm kind of in the same boat if I'm honest with myself. It's books and records. Blogs and craft projects. Travel, recipes, renovations, gigs, people I want to see, documentaries I'd love to make, podcasts (make and listen to), things I'd like to grow in my garden, walks, shoes, skills, languages, etc etc etc.

I saw this link of great blogs of 2013 and nearly cried. I want all of that! To read it all! What if I miss out! FOMO!!!!!!

Today I'm recovering from the flu so there isn't a lot going on. I'm listening to Aural Text on Triple R, we've just had a wood delivery that needs to be stacked, it's the first day out of bed/couch really so I'm a bit sweaty and tentative. I'd like to plant some seedlings in the garden, prepare Homebrew for Monday, go to the post office to pick up a parcel, tackle my emails, call my mum and on it goes.

My friend Dan Vo told me that to be successful in life you should make a list of three things to achieve in any given day, and not exceed those three things (it may have been five). Are you freaking kidding me Dan? Don't you know that there are approximately nine thousand things that I absolutely must get done today, or the sky could quite possibly fall in?


                                



He's right, you know. When I'm overwhelmed I get distracted by every fricken shiny thing in the world, when I'm underwhelmed I'm empty. My goal is just to be whelmed. Nicely in the middle - spirit level style.

Smiling Mind is a nice start, it's a great app for meditation. They're not too long or kooky, just help to slow the brains a bit. I'm a really crap meditator but I try every now and then.

So. Today my three things:

Stack the wood
Write this blog
Rest

Then tomorrow I can go on a friend date with Lily and her wee person and see some art and have some lunch.


How are you? Are you whelmed?

On Friendship

This morning I received a message on Facebook (edited slightly to remove identifying factors):

Hey there Jenny
Thinking of you. You always light up my facebooking with your wonderful little posts and amusing updates.
I'm just coming out of a week long depressive episode. It's not always as linear as that, as yesterday was pretty crap. HOWEVER, today is a new day.
Sometimes feel incredibly close to you -- it's a little strange I know, considering I haven't seen you for years. Take Care x

It could not have come at a better time. That generous vulnerability warmed my heart and echoed with understanding.

I have 920 Facebook friends, and a lot of the time I feel alone in the world and wanting more. I've been turning this notion of friendship over in my head for a few weeks now, taking stock after the loss of Rel. Yesterday was one month since she passed away and it's getting easier and harder all at once. It's not a shock to remember on waking anymore, but settling in for the long haul of loss sends that chilled, dull ache to my gut. When you water the plants in the garden you also water the weeds, and they have deep roots going back years that are impossible to disentangle from the now, the fresh grief raises up the old and it is somewhat crushing on the harder days.

I wonder, truly, how humans deal. Death is a part of life, and with love comes loss, that's a given. But how do people move about in the world and keep on truckin' when those blows just keep coming?

This has led me to deeply consider the role of friends in my life. Do I have enough, do I want more, do I expect too much, what do I deserve, how do friendships change as you go through life, and so on and so forth.

I have a love in my life who is my best friend. Her smile lights up my world and her depth of understanding and wisdom quite frankly takes me aback. We talk a lot about friendship and the challenges and loveliness of experiencing and maintaining meaningful friendships over years and decades. We both place high value on having adventures separately outside of the relationship - and it's wonderful to have stories to tell each other after the fact.

Most people can say they've moved on from friendships that turned out to be too dramatic, cumbersome, draining or that didn't change and grow as the parties included in it did. I've moved on from my fair share when the time was right and never regretted it for a minute. I've missed who people used to be to me and felt loss, which is a very different thing to regret.

Sometimes friendships are location dependent - when you live or work closely with someone, these friendships are easy and flow beautifully, but when circumstances change and someone doesn't happen to be in your field of vision that commitment can become a task that falls short of our daily to-do lists.

Look what we've done - moved an hour away from many people we love. Now interactions involve diaries and planning and time and energy, and with that change comes a bit of awkwardness. I think many friends wait for an invitation to come visit, as we wait for people to say they want to come and see us, and we all wait and time moves on and the space between seeing one another grows bigger and bigger.

Don't even get me started on the old "we must catch up" with no follow through chestnut. Lord! 

Life is full and so many of us are pulled in multiple directions. We all do our best - and our experience of that level of 'best' range from fulfilling to disappointing.

Last week I'd stayed in town overnight after teaching as I had an appointment on Tuesday morning in town, and had a spur of the moment breakfast with an old friend. An old lover in fact, from years ago. It was experiencing that light and intimacy over eggy bread and a decaf that I realised how much I'd been missing those interactions - how much it feeds your soul to sit with someone who knows you so well, that you can say "I can't bear to talk about myself, I'm sad today can you please just keep telling me about what's happening in your life?" and they happily do and you both have a lovely time. What a gift!

On Sunday I went to a family BBQ (Tracey's brother and sister in law had turned 31 and were having a shindig) and then we went our separate ways as I traveled into town for a solo night out. I was so close to just going home because I felt like a loser (I'd sent tentative, last-minute messages to about three different friends asking if they wanted to join me, all were busy) but something in me knew that being afraid of being lonely was fine, acting out of that fear was something else altogether. I could become a hermit! The horror. (Perhaps I already am?) Leaving from the BBQ had shaved about 20 minutes off my travel time in to town, and so I was propelled into the great bustling metropolis of Melbourne town.

Good golly, I had a fabulous time. First stop was Temple of Music at Chalice in Northcote. I'd interviewed Kirsty about this on PBS earlier that week and was thoroughly intrigued about the church experience minus the Jesus stuff, and including music and discussion and philosophy and a bit of old-fashioned chanting and Leunig and George Harrison and an egg shaker. Brilliant. I thoroughly recommend getting along to the next one if that sounds like your bag (Sunday May 19 at 5 pm, Northcote).

Next I drove over to Trades Hall and saw Catherine Deveny in her last show at the comedy festival, and the first and only thing I managed to get to this year. Fabulous. Outrageous. Cacked myself til my sides hurt. (Side note - I wholeheartedly say YES to trampolines without fences around them). She even made a cancer joke (from the perspective of a survivor) and it didn't make me curl up in a ball and wail, so that was a bit of a personal milestone.

Then I came home, triumphant that I'd broadened my horizons and had stories to tell.

The next day I had work (radio show and taught a class) where I get to see all sorts of lovely people and do creative things. Mondays are so great because I get to do these things that mean I connect with other people. The down side is that all the driving wreaks havoc with my back and my arms and my neck, and Tuesdays are often spent not feeling so great and needing to be still. Is it worth it? One hundred per cent yes.

It's a shame though, that with happiness and fulfillment comes physical pain. I never get used to that and overcommit myself, having to cancel things often and being too embarrassed to explain myself properly (or sometimes I do but people don't really understand - how could they?) then I'm the piker pariah from Loserville.

Who would think that being around people three days in a row would mean overcommitting myself? But there it is. So my solution is being an extremely active Facebooker. If something makes me happy, I like it. If I think other people will like it, I share it. It keeps me connecting and interacting with people and smashes isolation to smithereens. That's the intention anyway.

Tracey once told me about a time when I was off doing something else and she had been spending time with three of our friends, and they decided to work out a chart of my Facebook activity (bestill my nerdy chart-loving heart) and there was definite correlation with what I know as my lay-low days and markedly increased traffic. The days I'm gathering strength to get amongst it again I am rarely without my smartphone in my hand, checking in on what's happening in the rest of the world. I have massive reading lists of websites and blogs that I'll get back to when my levels of concentration will let me take it all in.

I print out amazing things that have rocked my world - I have no idea where to put them but I know I want to keep them and somehow hold on to the feeling of being moved.

Back to the start and the message I got through Facebook this morning - I was delighted to hear that the closeness and connection I feel goes both ways in some instances. Don't you love it when people tell you that you've been on their mind, when they've been on yours?

Today I'm driving about an hour down the road (further from town) to see a new friend I met through the BHB conference just over a month ago. There's a cinnamon tea cake baking in the oven and I can't wait to go have an adventure out in the world and hear about how she's doing and see some beautiful beachy goodness.

Looking forward - I'd love some friends close by - drop in for a cup of tea kind of friends. Easy friends. I wonder where they are? I'm looking forward to seeing more friends in town, as always, and having visitors when the time suits everyone.

One thing's for sure, when your energy is limited you definitely make every bit count.

After a friend dies - a handy grief how-to

Over the past three years three of my friends have died. Two very suddenly and unexpectedly, and one from cancer (although it was still a huge shock, it felt slightly different in that I had attempted to prepare myself). So I have a bit of experience up my sleeve and some things to share. I'm not going to go into the whole stages of grief thing, there's millions of pages about that, so go forth and google if that's your thing.

Here are some things that I didn't know before, but are handy to understand now.  Obviously we are all different, maybe you'll relate to this and maybe you won't - but if you are reading this and you're feeling this kind of loss I really hope you'll be ok and I genuinely care about you. We are officially Bro's in Loss.

When someone I love dies, I will be out of my mind for a while and that's ok

When your body is processing such a massive concept as the death of someone you love, you're going to have about ten percent of your awareness and energy. This means it's super important to do things like look both ways when you're crossing the road, don't drive if you're not up to it, ask for help from friends or family if you just can't cope with cooking (eat your veggies - you need your strength to get through this). Basic survival things can easily fall by the wayside when all of your physical and mental resources are focusing in on other areas.

The first time someone I loved died who wasn't at the end of a long life, I happened to have an acupuncture appointment booked in on the morning of his funeral. Addam was a dear friend, co-worker and mentor. He was like an older brother figure and I was out of my freaking mind when he died suddenly. My acupuncturist Helen told me something very scary that I thought was awful at the time, but with hindsight has been very helpful. When someone is taken out of our lives who we will miss, every single cell is screaming out for them. The physical body grieves and will do so for the rest of our lives, in varying intensities. 

Geez! Thanks a LOT!... I thought to myself. But when I realised that this felt so true, that my body ached so much and I felt such sadness I didn't feasibly think it was possible to come back from, it enabled some compassion and care to enter into the equation, and things got so much better from there.

Recognise your things as your things

When Addam died, I watched a lot of Gilmore Girls. Episode after episode, hour after hour. When I'd had enough, I'd have a warm bath and stare into space, then watch more. When Jordan died, it was Glee. When Rel died a few weeks ago, it was (and still is) Grey's Anatomy.

Visual valium and coocooning are some of my things. Pizza is also one of my things. On the way home from Rel's funeral yesterday, my partner and I went through not one, but two McDonalds drive-throughs (we hadn't eaten a thing all day, but still. Gross) and spent approximately $60. We had feelings to eat, and boy did we eat them.

Being in bed a lot of the time, or on the couch, with many blankets and fluffy doonas in both settings, is one of my things. I understand now that I become physically exhausted. I remember when Addam died, I had made my way into the city about three weeks later to do some podcasting at the station we worked at together and I was walking along Exhibition Street and there was a hotel I had never noticed before. I gave serious thought to walking in there, handing over my credit card and taking the worlds longest nap. I fantasised about big fluffy hotel doonas and hiding underneath them and just letting my mind go blank. In the end I remembered how broke I was, went and did the podcasting and did the same thing at home. 

After awhile, for me it moves on to obsessively listening to the saddest music I can find, and especially music the person loved. I've made an example playlist on YouTube here but they can be kind of annoying because all of a sudden in the middle of a good wallow you'll hear an ad about toothpaste and be all wtf? Whatever your chosen playlist medium, I recommend you keep it. Because sometimes it's nice to listen to those songs down the track.

Another thing I tend to do is assume I will die the same way as the person I love died. Addam had chronic migraines, hey presto - so do I and I'm convinced that they will kill me. Jordan died in a car accident - I'm terrified of driving or being in cars at all for a while. Rel had cancer - I start making plans in my head because my life will undoubtedly be cut short in the same unfair way. This fades after a time, and it's a weird way of being close and having affinity with your person.

Other people will understand

After a few weeks or a month sometimes I get an intensely short fuse, where things that are only slightly annoying before will make me want to slap a person silly, or kick them in the shin. This is another one of those 'physical and mental resources' things. All of your energies are ticking away underneath the surface, helping you to process grief and loss, so there's none left to stop you wanting to commit actual bodily harm to someone who is popping their gum or whatever. Apparently this is really common. I recommend walking away, or explaining to whoever is annoying you (if you absolutely must be around them - i.e. a work colleague) that you're sorry you're such a cranky pants, but you're having a bit of a rough time because your pal is gone and you're finding life hard to deal with. So if you could do me a favour and not pop your gum for a few weeks I'd really appreciate it and I promise I'll be back to my old self soon.


I've found that if you genuinely explain where you're coming from, people are ace and really kind. 

Be kind

Speaking of being kind - be kind to yourself. Seriously. Remember that compassion and care mentioned earlier? It really, really helps. Do not beat yourself up for not being able to be the same as you were before. You have been changed by this, and being changed by other people and your love for them is an amazing part of life. Sometimes it hurts like the Billy-o. Sometimes it lifts us up and fills us with strength.

If you need to sleep, sleep. If you need to watch their favourite movie over and over again, watch it. If you need to yell, or eat pizza, or smash plates, or be alone, or be around people, then do it.

I actually asked my GP about four months after Addam died if it was normal to still feel like total crap and want to sleep all the time, and she said yes it's fine and normal but let me know if you start gambling or sleeping with a lot of people who you don't know. Okey dokey then.

I have also learned to not listen to 774 or watch the news if every sad piece of information about loss in the world makes you want to curl up and howl for a week. Just take a break, the world will go on without you, and you can rejoin the fight for justice when you're strong again. You will be strong again, but only if you're kind to yourself and let yourself feel all the things that need to be felt.

When you have to go to work/look after kids/function in energetic ways you don't feel like

This is a tricky one. When Addam died I was working on air in breakfast radio, and there were weeks where I literally did not remember anything about that morning's program when 9 am came along and I would go home to bed. I realised this was going on and called my boss to ask if I sounded like a zombie on air, and he said to take the rest of the week off. I was lucky to get that time and understanding, but I was able to work on autopilot and apparently it didn't sound any different. Weird.

Ask for help when you need it. Delegate and just put things on hold where you can.

I don't have children so I'm not really sure what advice to share here - but from what I understand, it's good to be real with kids so they will learn to be honest with themselves and their own needs. They might enjoy snuggling up with you to watch DVDs, and entertain themselves while you're having down time. Keep them updated. Tell them you're feeling sad, or you're feeling a bit better today so let's go to the park.

Funerals

Yesterday morning when I woke up on the day of Rel's funeral it struck me as so odd that the word funeral starts with 'fun'. I had this strange mood yesterday morning, I was actually pumped about going. I was excited about seeing people who understand and love Rel, and I think ultimately pleased to be doing something positive in the grief journey. Funerals are there to be healing and help us feel what we need to feel.

Every funeral is different. Yesterday was the first religious funeral I had been to since my crazy and super old Grandma died in the 80s. I wasn't raised Catholic, but my partner was, and she found it really therapeutic to be in something so old and sacred, to say the parts in the mass that everyone mumbles along with, to be a part of a ritual that was comforting and familiar.

I found it really interesting and appreciated how inclusive the priest was - he encouraged everyone to not feel self conscious if they didn't know what to say in response to the prayers, and let us know there would be a lot of sitting down and standing up and kneeling if we wanted to, and to just participate in the bits we felt comfortable to.

Halfway on the drive there I was practicing my bible reading that I was doing in the funeral (side note on that, I was so privileged to be able to play a part in yesterdays funeral, I know Rel had a LOT of friends who she loved and who love her so it was really, really amazing to be able to speak) and there was a bit about how Jesus suffered and I lost it and my bubble of high and stokedness just popped as I thought of the suffering my beautiful friend went through. I let out the sadness, and then stabilised a bit around a dim happiness to be in a group of people who understood.

I laughed a lot in the funeral at photos and the amazing eulogies spoken by Rel's gorgeous sister Mich and her BFF Dans, and felt such peace to be sitting close to her coffin. It was nice to be close to my friend again. Other funerals I haven't been able to bring myself to look at the coffin. You just gotta roll with it hey. 

I found I held it together until after I read the thing I was reading, then I cried big sad gulpy tears and that was ok because a lot of other people were too. A lady sitting in front of me turned around and held my hand and her baby stared at me and gurgled and I thought I could see Rel staring out at me through the baby.

Anyway, it was a big day, exhausting and uplifting and sad and peaceful and loud and everyone I spoke to had a massive headache by the end of it all. It was wonderful to come home and put on my jammies and curl up on the couch with dogs and Grey's Anatomy and have a big sleep and I woke up this morning feeling like I had angel arms curled around me. My bones and musces and cells all felt fizzy and lively and loved.

I'm not sure what I believe, but I feel that in this instance Rel is an angel for all of us and I'm very fortunate to have her in my corner. She's like Santa - she can be in a million places at once, wherever she's needed. If you need your friend who is gone - just talk to them. Out loud or in your head. Chances are you'll know what they would have said in response, and that's a pretty amazing gift for a friend to leave behind.

I'm going to watch Anchorman and have some porridge now, because Rel loved jazz flute and being in a glass case of emotion and putting cinnamon on things. I'm also going to not answer my phone because I feel like being quiet.

How are you going?