When Christmas feels clunky…Doing adventures instead.

So to give you some back ground to my clunky relationship with Christmas, I grew up as a Jehovah witness.. yes feel free to run away now! BUT I’m not a Jehovah Witness, it was just another one of my mum and dads strange dreams. To raise 4 kids in the middle of nowhere in a shed…which eventually turned into a house…  with no water, electricity or a “normal” toilet... to have very minimal money … and be Jehovah Witnesses! 

So what this then looks like for kids is no Easter, Christmas, birthdays and pretty much not being involved in any of those big celebrations kids enjoy in our culture! In my childhood I never went to a birthday party, I never received a Christmas present, and I can remember on Easter when I was about 10 years old my teacher crushing up Easter eggs so I could be a part of a class activity of making an Easter basket. However mine was not an Easter basket. It was a non- Easter basket with crushed chocolate in it. Yes a very creative way to make sure I appeared to be the same as everyone else (insert eye roll!)

The most challenging time as a kid though was when everyone would all come back from holidays after the Christmas break and share what they had got from Santa. I had no idea who Santa was.. but he gave great presents! People would share amazing stories of toys, gadgets, swimming pools, etc etc etc. I would dread people asking me what I got for Christmas. I would respond with something like “Oh I got money” As my grandmother always gave me money. So thank goodness I had that. I learnt very quickly the art of being an outcast but finding ways to look like I was fitting in! 

As I took my stand against the religion when I was about 14 and refused to go to meetings 3 times a week, I still didn’t participate in Christmas events, as I really had no idea how to. But when I had my first baby at 16 I was determined to give him the best Christmas ever. I went overboard buying stuff, trees, food… even though I really had no idea what it was always about. I often have to ask... what are we celebrating? Did Jesus die or was he born?

As the years went by and I had 4 kids, Christmas always felt somewhat conflicting. I suck at craft, I’ve never made a ginger bread house in my life, I feel like the environment is dying in stuff… but everyone continues to buy endless stuff...I find it confusing. However I found my groove and got into the swing of it to ensure my kids fitted in. It was probably a very tame version, but it was a version of trees, presents, Christmas morning excitement and running to 3 extended family homes in one day. However I've never really felt very connected to its meaning. I feel more like an odd bystander watching and trying to get it. I've never been able to receive a gift without feeling incredibly uncomfortable. For many years I would return the presents my husband brought me. Which in reflection may have contributed to us getting divorced!

Christmas changed again when I got divorced. It turned into one of the most horrendous days of the year as it just brought up grief, loss, pain, anxiety and arguments about who was having the kids. So I ditched it. I decided I wouldn't “do” Christmas anymore, no more running to peoples houses and no more presents or trees. I had to recreate this day to fit for my kids so it wasn't a day a pain. So for the last 7 years we have transported our way to Woodford Folk Festival. That is their Christmas present. We "do" adventure. 

Travelling a long distance on Christmas days felt like a great way to avoid the clunk and the pain of not having the 2 parent family structure anymore. It felt like a great way to “give” something to my kids that was a memory rather than an item. Woodford helps me hold space for any loss and grief that might show up during this holiday period. In doing this I don't have to pretend. I get to create our version of it. Because in reality Christmas at our house now is just one big clunk.

Sometimes I have my kids, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I have 1 kid. Sometimes I have 3 or 4. It changes as to who wants to be where. So I’ve let go of the idea of what the "proper" Christmas day looks like (as that's just painful and disappointing...and I suck at it anyway!) and I've even given up the idea that we all need to be together. 

As a single mum I've had to let go of working my butt off to try create the energy and enthusiasm of two parents, smiling and pretending everything is fabulous just like the movies. Because its not like that at all...and that is just exhausting.  In reality those first Christmas's after getting divorced were just plain awful, lonely and hard. So there was only so much of that I could handle. I had to create something new (so yes I went for setting up tents with kids in extreme heat conditions and volunteering so we could afford to go.. simple.. not! But a different kind of hard :-))  

So whatever your day looks like.. and whoever may be present or not present… I wish you an adventure…and I hope you and your family find your unique funk (or clunk) on this colorful day. And create whatever version of Christmas that works for you ❤

       

Death, anniversaries and all that jazz

When I was a teenager my mum asked me to sign a piece of paper to say I would be her guardian and power of attorney, with my brother. I remember at the time a part of me cringing at this responsibility. What would that mean for my life? How responsible would I be to advocate for her and for the end of her life? Did it make me responsible for her in ways I didn't want to be as her daughter. But then other parts of me said of course I would sign it. Of course I would make sure she was always taken care of and of course I would make sure her end of life was what she wanted. 

My mum was 40 at this time, her mum had passed away from Huntingtons Disease, so she very clearly knew what her future looked like. Her aunty also had HD at this time and was very sick with the illness in a nursing home. She was being tube fed to keep her alive. I can always remember my mum after visits to her aunty crying in fear that that was going to be her. She would make me promise that we would never do that to her. She didn't want to be kept alive in a bed, with a tube feeding her, when she could no longer swallow. She didn't want to be kept alive with any medical interventions. So she did the one thing in her power at this time to ensure that didn't happen and she wrote a living will.

Slowly slowly over the next 18 years she lost all of her abilities and the nightmare of what she knew would happen unfolded.

I always had an idea in my head of how my mum would die. I'd read a lot of stories about people with Huntingtons Disease choking, or not being able to eat and slowly dying from this, or getting pneumonia and dying. So I imagined that this was something like how my mum would die. I imagined I'd get a call from the nursing home, I'd be there with her, perhaps sleep over and stay with her until she died. I imagined we would have a palliative care nurse, we would play music, have candles and I'd sleep in her bed with her. But it didn't happen like that...

I had driven from Newcastle to Kempsey to visit mum in November 2013. I remember on this visit mum was particularly quiet and sleepy. But she was loving the kids, and looking fairly peaceful. I did wonder though if she was OK as she kept dozing off to sleep in her chair, which wasn't so normal for her. I did my usual jumping into bed with her, hugging her and telling her I love her. I told her I'd see her at Christmas (after her giving us a childhood of being Jehovah Witnesses and refusing Christmas.. She now decided this was something she loved and wanted a Christmas tree and all!)

I drove back to Newcastle and it was now very busy end of year christmas, school assemblies, presentations and dance concert time for my 3 kids, so I got stuck into all that jazz. On the 10th December I was at my kids award ceremony and I got a missed call from the nursing home and then a missed call from my dad.  I looked at my phone and knew I should go outside and return the calls.

I rang my dad. My mum had passed away.

As much as I'd waited for this moment for years I was just devastated. I stood there in the yard of where the presentation was being held and I felt shocked. I felt instantly separated from everything that was happening around me. How? She had been sick during the week with a flu. But dying?? Just like that? Without the call to say come.. Death is near. Yep she was gone. She died on her own, in her room, where she spent most of her time these days. The nurses had checked her, closed the door to call a Dr, gone back to check her and she had passed away. No fuss, no big deal.. Just gone.

My imagined idea of being there with her during her death faded away...and again life showed me that things don't always go how we imagine... or plan.

I found my kids from the presentation and quickly dodged all the teachers and parents. I got my kids into the car and let them know that their nanna had passed away. They cried and cried. We all drove home in tears and shock. After all these years of sickness her body had died. My chest filled with heavy heavy bricks...and the reality that Huntingtons Disease kills people, set in.

The phone calls to family and friends started and funeral preparations began... But given we were in the period of year where there is "all that jazz" going on, my daughter had her dance concert which she very much wanted to attend. So I decided I couldn't go home to Kempsey for another 5 days, until she had done that. It felt like one of those incredibly hard moments where being a single parent tears me in different directions! And I can't be everywhere I'm needed. But we would try do it all. 

It was the most horrendous 5 day wait of my life, not being able to be home with my family straight away.  I felt so torn in my mothering role, and my role of mothering my mother! My body needed to be "home" with my mum, but she was already gone. So I organized a funeral over the phone with my family. And cleaned and cleaned and cleaned my house until those 5 days and a dance concert were over and we went home to be with her.

My mum's funeral was the saddest day of my life. Seeing her body laying in her coffin and her spirit not there was heartbreaking. I looked at her face and had a very strong feeling of "she has gone to another room". 

We then celebrated the life she had with us all. 

Now... 4 years on each anniversary of this time feels so different. The first year after she died was a haze. My whole life often revolved around my mum and now she wasn't there. My identity changed, my family changed, everything felt different.

Slowly as the years pass by anniversaries are gentler and those changes have settled into a new normal. I have many days of grief where I feel like someone is stepping on my chest. I miss her hugs. I miss the safety of her presence. I can still find that feeling when I visit her grave. I lay on top of her grave, just like I used to lay in her bed at the nursing home and I feel that same feeling of comfort and safety I always felt with her. 

That feeling will never die.

Teenage parenting, education and power

I was looking back through some old photos in preparation for my second son turning 18 last week and came across this picture. It had me reflecting on how important getting this University Degree has been in my life. As a young woman and teenage parent it has given me the opportunity to work, earn an income and raise four kids on my own, a situation I wasn't really anticipating back then.. but really does anyone's life look like how they thought it would?

I had a very strong feeling when I was a young mum that I was going to need an education to survive. I was determined that I was not going to be left behind in life, just because I had fallen pregnant at 15. I knew I needed to do this study and complete it, or I may never do it. Something within me knew that this was going to be important for me to ensure I could take care of myself and my son. I knew that ultimately I was now responsible for myself and what happened to my life.  

I had left school in year 10 to have my baby and I knew I had to get back to an educational institution as soon as I could after he was born. So when he was 1 year old I went to my local TAFE to sign up for anything I could really! I can't remember anyone in high school every really asking me what I was interested in. Child care was suggested and that was always going to be my one and only career path. So I applied to do child care at TAFE as my first choice, but I didn't get in (Phew!..as I really don't think this was ever my career path.. that is for the wonderful, creative, energetic souls!) So this then lead me to my second choice, and the career I have been doing for the last 20 years.. working in Community Services/Social Sciences.

I started a Youth Work course which changed my life and my entire experience of education. I had never felt very smart at school. I struggled a lot with social pressures in high school and I was way too distracted. But when I went to TAFE for the first time in my life I felt like I was treated like an adult. I made friends, connections with teachers and connections with my community. I felt I was believed in and I got to study something I soon learnt that I felt very passionate about - Social Justice! 

I remember TAFE letting me bring my son into class on days where I couldn't get child care, he was 1 year old at this time. No one ever treated me like I was breaking the law if I did this. No-one treated me in a way that created any feelings of shame for being a young mum. I felt supported and that I finally belonged.  I was incredibly shy and didn't talk for a long time, but the environment allowed me to gradually gain a sense of confidence in myself. I would study at night and do my work when and wherever I could.

I spent two years at TAFE study a Diploma in Youth Work. I worked at a local youth refuge on work placement and gained causal employment there, where I wasn't a lot older than many of the young people who lived there! This was my first ever paid job and I was able to build great relationships with the young people and staff. 

I was determined to explore my passion for Aboriginal culture by doing a work placement at an Aboriginal Medical Centre. I was so worried I wasn't going to fit in, but I remember my placement teacher clearly saying to me "you will fit in anywhere you go!". I was so thrilled I was successful getting this placement, where I could explore my passions for Aboriginal culture with Aboriginal people. I was inspired, challenged and exposed to new people and knowledge. 

When I was 19 I finished my course at TAFE and I then had to make a hard decision about whether to go to University or not. My son was now 3 years old and my mum was getting very sick with Huntington's Disease. Responsibilities played a huge part in my decision making, as I felt I really needed to stay and help look after my mum. There was a part of me that really wanted to move and go to University on campus, but I eventually made the decision that I couldn't leave her. So I signed up to do a Bachelor of Social Science via correspondence, which I completed over the next two years.. from my lounge room!

Again, I would study at night when my son was asleep and when he was at pre-school. I would work at the youth refuge when I could and I eventually got more causal work at a Womens refuge where I worked with women leaving Domestic Violence and their children. I was also going through my own experience of DV at this time with the father of my son, which was very dangerous and scary. This was something after years and years of terror I had to learn ways to protect myself from. One thing I learnt through this was that even though I had left this relationship when my son was 3 months old, DV doesn't stop, if anything it gets worse.

Being a single young parent, having a sick parent and not having a supportive relationship with my childs father, I knew I needed to be incredibly independent. Getting this degree was a huge part of that process. I knew that having an education was critical for me to have the ability to support myself.

And after another 2 years of dedication, commitment... a tone of really boring readings, writing long essays... and running to the mail box to get my results... I finished my degree. I graduated with a Bachelor of Social Science majoring in Human Relations and Communications & Counselling and Mediation. I had finished my degree at the same time as people from my year at school, which felt so incredibly important.


I was now 21, repartnered and I gave birth to my second son. 

I remember a counsellor I was seeing at the time then telling me about a job that was going at a local Family Support Service. I doubted myself big time for this position but I applied and I was so incredibly fortunate to get this job. I worked there for the next 10 years helping to create supports and services for teenage parents. We created young parent antenatal and postnatal groups. I also created groups with Aboriginal families, and families with young children, needing support and connection. I worked with the most ethical, inspiring and passionate team of people. My education stepped up to a whole new level in this role. I learnt so much in this job, both from my colleagues and from the people I worked with, who allowed me into their lives to witness their stories.   

During this time I also found myself on the other side at TAFE, in a teaching role. This role was so scary when I started! I didn't sleep for weeks as I was so petrified of not knowing the answer to a question that a student might ask! I have been teaching for 15 years now (now I just tell them to google it if I don't know..  we can never know everything!) and we continue to learn together. 

Teaching over the years has become my absolute love and passion. I have been able to give back to thousands of students what was given to me. I get to support people to start their education journey and create their dreams for themselves and their families.

My life has grown and changed dramatically over the last 18 years. I've had 4 children, I've been married and divorced, my mum has died, I've moved and started my life over again. Through all of this though my education and my degree have been so vitally important. It has allowed me to stay steady with employment, contribute and connect to the communities I live in. Its connected me with work I feel passionate about and people I can relate to. Its helped me provide for my kids, put a roof over our heads and its given me the ability to give them opportunities in their lives. We are far from "rich" ... one income doesn't go very far... but we are connected. And I keep telling them when they go to University I am coming...as I still have my dream to study on campus!    

 Education has given me the power to have some control over my life and the life of my kids. I am forever grateful I had that opportunity and took it.

So to end this story I will share a quote from Malala, as a reminder of what some young women have to overcome to get access to an education. I feel so strongly that every women, no matter what her circumstances, or how or where this education happens, has this right and need. And really, as much as I love the idea of going to a University campus, I am also happy to sit on the floor with Malala too. Where we get educated doesn't really matter...lounge rooms, floors, Universities...or as my Aboriginal teachers have always taught me...in nature. What's important is that we have access to knowledge... and the opportunity to learn. 

  

Rocking your Imperfect

I recently did a 15 day challenge with Lucy Ellis a Hypnotherapist and founder of a movement called 'Rocking your Imperfect" (check her page out on Facebook if you're keen!) So for a new experience I joined this challenge, which involved responding to one of these lines in the manifesto for 15 days. I am sharing this with you, as this manifesto has so many gems for women...and I'm sure for men too!  

1. SISTER LIFT YOUR HEAD UP (I belong)
I belong with my 4 kids and our little family

I belong at TAFE as a teacher in Community Services.
I belong to several groups of loving friends.
I belong to a Newcastle dance community
I belong to a family effected by Huntington's Disease and it's wider community.
I've just started blogging so I now belong in a blogging community.
I belong at Suspension as they have the best coffee!!
And as a single woman I belong to myself

2. GET OFF THE SIDELINES YOU ARE MORE THAN ENOUGH -
Well the biggest thing I've done in the last few months to get off the sidelines is start a blog. It feels like a pretty vulnerable and personal blog about illness, divorce, heartbreak and love. Before doing this I was actually starting to feel really disconnected from myself and unwell just taking care of people ! I feel like blogging is stitching me up on the insides. So yesterday I blogged which gives me a voice in a world where it can be so hard to speak sometimes


3. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR - (seeking happiness in others)
I think being a single woman the biggest "trick" I can be tricked into by our culture is being told that my happiness lies in meeting someone to fall in love with! There's so much pressure to be "partnered" Mind you I was partnered for 15 years and I'm not sure that was the answer to my happiness either!

So for me it's standing strong in being single and celebrating that.. Living my own life goals and staying completely connected to those. There is just as much joy and growth to be found in this space. And my happiness is not over the horizon in someone else's arms!

4. NOONE IS GOING TO RESCUE YOU - ITS UP TO YOU TO BE YOUR OWN HERO -
Oh this one's always felt conflicting to me in the midst of pain! I get the idea.. I love the idea.. And it's true.. But it's also true I needed some help to get there.

So the story Ill share is from when I got divorced. My husband and father of my four kids left our marriage because he was having an intimate relationship with a very close girlfriend of mine (they are now married) so yes I felt like a victim!!

I was in so much emotional pain which made me easy to be bullied and pushed around. There was two of them and one of me, which made me feel even more vulnerable because I didn't feel I had enough power in the face of their combined power. It was a freaking power struggle!

Eventually though it had to change as there's only so long I could stay in this place of powerlessness. I had to reclaim my power back by drawing on legal support, counselling and setting boundaries around how I would be treated. I was worth more than this.

I took control of my life. I packed up my family and moved. I got a court orders and tons of therapy to get myself to a stronger position emotionally. I stopped allowing other people to tell me what I had to do with my own life.. I reclaimed my life from the hell of conflict and pain and I became the shero of my own life.

And I learnt very deeply that no ones going to save me. Not even the people I loved and trusted the most in my world. But I will always save me.

5. LIVE LIFE HOWEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT
I recently had to cut back a lot of shit in my life. Just unnecessary shit really. Things, clutter, drama, crap. I had a big strong feeling of "fuck this shit". I was carrying waaaaaay too much responsibility (I'm a single mum with 4 kids) So some stuff had to go. Especially that big energy killer.. Guilt.

It was a hard transition. I've disappointed some people because I can't be how I used to be and give so much...which was really hard. But I feel so much better. Free and more true to who I really am rather than doing things because I "should". I will only ever do thing because my heart wants to and because I truly want to.

And seriously... I may disappoint people in life.. but I will live however the fuck I want.

6. MAKE MISTAKES AND OWN THE SHIT OUT OF THEM 
I think I've reduced my sorrys in my life right down to only when I truly mean it. As a woman I think I've been trained to say sorry for everything... even existing!

So now when I make a mistake and say sorry.. I think about it very deeply first.. Then I own it and say sorry.

For example I told a guy I was dating he was a douche bag the other day, which is not my preferred way of operating! I was half bantering but name calling is not really up there in my life goals ..particularly if it hurts someone. So I apologized and gave much better feedback about how I felt and what I needed. I feel totally ok about owning fuck ups.

Replacing my unnecessary sorrys with thank you has also helped me own my REAL mistakes.

7. DO NOT APOLOGISE FOR WHO YOU ARE - Oh this one we had to do a live facebook dance.. so that you cannot see !! But I will let you know that I danced public at the airport :-) ..and I didn't apologize once !

8. THIS IS MY LIFE
I lived most of my early life thinking I was going to die at 40 with a Huntingtons Disease gene. I made a conscious choice early in my life to really focus in and make sure I was doing exactly what I wanted with my short time. I didn't have quantity so I needed to make it quality. When I received my results and I didn't have the gene I was given the gift of "time" in my life back.

I remember thinking when I got my negative gene result, as I was so used to living with the idea of illness and death... that I thought... What will I die of now!! Breast cancer? 

Living with dying has both given me a very strong connection to the ending but it also pushes me into the moment. And it has me asking myself everyday am I living my life fully?

I'm in Melbourne at the moment to visit my best friend who wasn't so lucky. He received a gene positive result. We used to travel Australia and the world together creating supports for young people who had a parent who was sick with HD. Now life is slower and we cook and drink tea. The thing I love the most about our relationship is the fact we have the really hard conversations, we love each other deeply, we hug a lot and we say how much we love each other.. because we know our time is limited...and I don't want anything to go unsaid, unheard, untasted, untouched, unseen... or unfelt.

9. SHOW UP STEP UP AND KEEP GOING - I may have missed this one vising my friend! But I "stepped up and kept going" with the manifesto after this :-)

10. SHOW YOUR KIDS HOW PERFECT BEING IMERFECT CAN BE
As a single how mum I'm constantly battling thoughts of not being enough and that I'm giving my kids a very imperfect life. I work extremely hard at making sure they never miss out on anything which often means doing a fair bit of overcompensating. Which only leads to one thing... Exhaustion! 

So I often have to pull myself up on this. I am only one human. I can only provide one humans amount of time, attention, entertainment, stimulation, and love. There are 4 of them and 1 of me. This may be very imperfect but it's the best I've got.. And I give it my all.

Over the years they have seen many, many of my imperfections.. especially my lack of cooking skills!! We have all learnt to laugh about this... which always ends up being a perfect family meal where everyone laughs at things like millet burgers that taste like sand!

The imperfections create great opportunities for laughter and tasting the realities of life.

11. YOUR STRUGGLES HAVE MADE YOU WHO YOU ARE - OWN THAT
Gosh I feel like my life has been a huge struggle. Like most people's I imagine ! But one thing I've really really struggled with these past few years is accepting /forgiving my close friend for sleeping with.. falling in love with.. and marrying my now ex husband. Betrayal feels like a no win emotion. It just hurt hurt hurts. Like a knife wound deep into my heart. The only way I've been able to own my struggle and get power over my life is remove that person from my life as much as I possibly can.. And love myself enough to know that that is perfectly OK. I do not need to relate as mum and step mum. I actually cannot physically do that. So my heart, body and soul gives me full permission to just remove myself, be loving to myself, honor my struggle. I need to stay far far away from people who hurt me. Since doing that my life has blossomed and my heart has healed.

12. BE VULNERABLE 
Sometimes I feel like I can't help but be vulnerable and share the truth. Truth talk is my favorite kind of talk. I cannot do the fake "hi how are you" chats.. I find them exhausting.

What I know though is being vulnerable is scary as hell and it hurts so much at times. But Id rather be rejected than live a lie.

I'm petrified of rejection in relationships.. Perhaps a result of my divorce.. BUT I'm just as petrified of living fake relationships.

So I choose vulnerability over and over again and find safe places and people to be vulnerable with. Even though it can hurt...its also very real and it creates life.. .and it feels waaaaaay better than my spirit dying inside.

13. LET THAT SHIT OUT - STOP CARRYING AROUND YOUR OWN PERSONAL SHIT STORM
Its all dumb shit...
Feeling responsible to have everyone like each other.. Dumbshit
Anxiety over hurting people's feelings.. Dumbshit
Trying to say the right thing to avoid conflict .. Dumbshit
Feeling fat fat fat!!! .. Dumbshit

Wondering if this us how I'm meant to be doing day 13 and if I missed something.. Dumbshit

And to dump all that dumb shit I dance dance dance which releases all that yucky energy and has me valuing my body and life!

14. HAVE MORE SEX, HAVE MORE FOOD, HAVE MORE LAUGHS, HAVE MORE FUN
Hmmm I could have more sex if I had a partner to have sex with! But I can definitely have more feelings of being sexy! I feel like I'm having a weight/body image crisis, which doesn't feel sexy. Sooooo I'm aiming to embrace more life by getting strong and physically healthy. Which will lead to having more sexy feelings!

15. ROCK YOUR IMPERFECT EVERYDAY
To rock my imperfect everyday I will continue to challenge myself to grow by doing risky, vulnerable, scary things... like sharing all of this !!!  

Finding beauty and love - Testing for Huntingtons Disease.

Ever since I was 16 I thought I would die at 40. That's when I would get sick with Huntingtons Disease and that's when my life would end. I pretty much had my life planned out for this. I would have my kids young so that I was around to parent them. I would get them to an age that they could be independent and not need me and then there was a very good chance (like a flip of a coin chance) that I would get sick and die. 40 was the end. 

I knew I could get the test for HD when I turned 18, however I didn't want to do that. I was young and wanted to choose life. Testing felt like giving up hope, as I knew what the result would be. I wanted to have my kids and live my life to the fullest, knowing there was a very good chance it was going to be cut short.

There was a lot of judgement around this decision when I chose to have children. There are a lot of strong opinions and stigma surrounding passing on a destructive gene like HD. Historically they wanted to use eugenics to stop us from breeding. That was the answer to this illness. Stop families reproducing. Hence the ongoing shame so many families feel talking about this disease. 

However I felt that if I could give my kids 40 years of life that was a gift. Right or wrong that's the logic I went with to allow me the freedom to have my kids and be a mum. I was 16 when I had my first baby (which wasn't so planned!) but at 21 I planned my next 3 kids and my family.

I saw a genetic counsellor when I fell pregnant with my second child at 20. The counsellor gave me the option to get tested for the HD gene and abort the baby if it had the gene. There was no way I was doing that at this stage of my life. I just wanted my family and my kids. I wanted to squeeze as much as I could into my short life. So I had 4 kids not knowing if I carried the gene, and not knowing if I may be passing it on. My husband and I bravely faced a future of not knowing whether I would be around or not. 

Over the years though as my kids got older and they witnessed my mum getting very sick, they started asking a lot of questions. A little voice in me was really starting to worry. What if I had passed this onto them. How on earth would I cope with that guilt. How on earth would I cope with them watching me get sick. There was no way in hell they were ever looking after me like I looked after my mum.

Over the years my brothers decided they wanted to be tested. My eldest brother had his blood taken in his early 20s, but left his results in the counsellors office for 8 years. My next brother told me he was getting tested. I can remember thinking "why on earth would you all want to do this!" But for each of us it was very important at different stages of our lives to get those results. Living in the unknown can become torture. My youngest brother had his blood taken a few years later and got his results too. With each one of these testing processes it felt like a part of me was getting the test. I feel like I've been tested 4 times! With each one of their positive results I felt devastated and I lost hope in life. And then I would rise back up to keep going.

The night that I decided it was my time, my 5 year old son Lachlan asked "mum are you going to get Huntingtons?" I said "maybe honey, I was thinking I might find out. What do you think?" Thomas piped up  "I think that would be great mum. That's really cool! You will know its coming so it wont be so scary like if you didn't know"
"Mum will you be like nanna and not talk good?" asked Lachlan
I told him that wouldn't happen for a very long time. Thomas must have read my mind "I wish I had a magic wand and no more Huntingtons for nanna or mum or anyone in the world!"
(Extract from an article I did for Marie Claire in 2008)

My kids deserved to know if I was going to get sick. And I wanted to prepare them for what was going to happen to me. I started the testing process in August 2007 .

I think one of the worst things about Huntingtons Disease is watching your future play out right in front of your eyes. Whilst we are doing the testing our parent, aunts and uncles are all getting very sick. So we can see exactly what is going to happen to us. I would wonder.. Are all people exposed to the way they are going to die every single day?

I was 28 at this time and needed to know if I only had 10 years or so left for my kids. We all deserved to know the finality of that.

So I started the testing process. The test is an emotionally hellish process. There were counselling sessions to find out if I was mentally stable enough to handle the news.. And then there's a blood test with a genetics crew. Then the very worst part is the 6 week wait for the results to come back. Those weeks are torture. I washed a lot of windows in those weeks.. As sitting still is an impossibility!

I got the phone call that my results were in and my husband and I drove to Newcastle to get them. I was an angry, cranky, emotional wreck during this time. Its just fucking messy really. 2 of my brothers already knew they had it. My mum was getting very sick in the nursing home. HD had taken the relationship I needed the most in my life and now I was going to find out if my kids and I will go through the same thing?

I just wanted it over. My kids were 5, 7, 9 and 14 at this time. I just wanted to know now so I could start taking vitamins and show them that I would do everything in the face of this illness to stay well for them. I was pretty certain I already had some early symptoms with a foggy head and clumsiness. So the result was just going to confirm what I already knew, so we would face that and l would live the best life I could.

As I sat in the genetic counsellors office I was so scared. My husband and I sat down and I waited for him to confirm what we knew. If I was gene positive the results would show two sets of numbers 17 and 40 plus. I stared at the paper. There was a 17 and 17. I did not have the HD gene.  

My husband cried and cried with relief. He was so emotionally overwhelmed. I stared at the paper. I kept looking at it thinking maybe they had got it wrong. As I sat there and let the news wash over me I felt numb. How on earth could this be. I was certain I had symptoms, and certain I had it. My life was not what I thought it was. Which was terrific.. and confusing. I thought my whole life I had this and it wasn't true... 

I was stunned. My gosh, my husband and I now had a future together with our kids, which had never before been. Our kids never had to worry about inheriting this disease, ever. There was so much involved in processing that. And I would now tell my family...who were not so lucky to get this news...

As we drove home and told everyone, I felt so quiet. I was so relieved for my kids, there are no words that will ever describe that feeling. Yet as much as I knew my brothers would be so happy for me, I just wished desperately that they could have had this result. How on earth could I ring my brothers and tell them I don't have it? How could I celebrate something other people in my family were not lucky enough to receive? But as I told each of them they cheered and cried with relief.

As everyone started to celebrate, feelings of silence encompassed me. I withdrew. It just felt conflicting. How could this disease pick and choose who it would take and who it would leave behind. What exactly are we celebrating? I could very clearly celebrate my kids lives, that was clear. But everything else didn't feel so straight forward.

I remember describing it to people like I felt like there had been a car crash and everyone in my family was hurt but I survived and we are celebrating?

Or our house just burnt down and everyone I love is stuck inside and I cant get them out. I'm screaming that I want them all to get out.. but they cant...I just have to watch...

I just couldn't celebrate any of that.

So I planned that when my brothers got sick and died, I would die too. I would not do this life or this illness another 3 times over. 

But... 10 years on... that initial panic has settled and leaving my life is not an option.. my kids are now 14, 16, 17 and 22 and they often say how lucky they feel, but how bad it is for other people. We accept and talk about the conflicting nature of our fortune. 

For the last 10 years I have battled the guilt, grief and powerlessness of life in the face of HD. My mum, aunt and uncle have all passed away, now exposing us as the next generation. I have fought with hellish demons of feeling overly responsible to fix something that can never be fixed. Eventually that has to stop - hence my recent survivors guilt blog - sometimes I just have to tell guilt to fuck off. 

It is ok that I exist. 

In 2 years time I will be 40. The age my mum was when she was diagnosed as being symptomatic. After my test it took me a long time to adjust to now having a life beyond 40. I can remember when I came home after getting those results and I dropped a can of beetroot on the floor. I just looked at it and thought.. wow.. everyone drops shit. I had never had the privilege of dropping something before and not assuming it was an early symptom of HD. My brothers still live with that mind torture, and they do it profoundly well. 

Being a single mum I am so grateful my kids still have me around and I'm also glad I will be around to love my family. I have many close friends who are also gene positive with this disease, and I am so very privileged to witness their strength, courage and love, in the face of illness...every single day.

I have accepted that all I can do is love everyone. I really have no control over anything else. I cannot fix it or make it go away. But hopefully I can make life a little gentler by being here. And I can always tell stories. 

Keeping myself mentally, physically and spiritually well feels critical ... illness or no illness...  Finding love and beauty in every single day helps to keep my spirit alive ❤️

Go gently friends xox 

PS I discovered this great word the other day...

Wabi-sabi (Japanese)

"A way of living that focuses on finding beauty within the imperfections of life and accepting peacefully the natural cycle of growth and decay"

So beautiful 💜 

Dancing with self worth

"This first photo makes me laugh - I was so excited to get the professional photos from my recent trip to a Contact Dance Convergence - a week long dance event. This was mine! The look on my face says it all really about just how terrifying this was! But I did it.. I danced for 7 days in contact with other people for 12 hours a day. A lot of the time I was thinking what on earth am I doing here and how can I escape! Particularly as an introvert.. That much human contact really pushed me to my limits.. But I learnt so much about where my limits are, how to say no.. and yes!! How to face my fears about not being "good enough".. trust myself.. and dance anyway!" - Facebook post 13/9/17

This really was a huge event for me. I've never really felt like a "dancer". That was what the cool talented girls at school did! Or so I thought, until I reclaimed dancing for myself. The voice of self doubt and low self worth can still get so loud in these environments. They can make me feel like I'm on the outer of groups and tell me that I'm different to everyone else...when really I'm pretty sure we are all humans here on earth! And we were all created with the ability to connect and dance. So screw that voice!

Dance has been a huge part of my healing process after divorce. Divorce left me feeling like I had left my "life dance" with someone, who I had shared most of my adult life with. It took me a very long time to adjust to that person no longer being my dance partner. Their physical body is no longer there, their touch, support and partnership is gone. It is the death of a shared dance.

The nature of my divorce was traumatic (which you can read about in my other blog "marriage and other happily ever afters"). Infidelity does a lot of damage to self worth. I felt for a long time that someone I loved more than anybody in the world had put me in a trash can and chosen someone else. I had become invisible. I had to work very hard to get myself out of that trash can, find my self love and dance my own dance again. Mind you I had not been on my "own" since I was 17... So it took some time to find my feet.    

I felt like I had fallen flat on my face. Huge feelings of failure crept in and intense feelings of not being good enough. I put my heart and soul into my marriage and in the end it wasn't enough. I think people would have looked at my relationship and family and thought "yep they have it together" I think they would have thought our life dance was looking pretty good! I remember someone saying to me when I told them we were ending .."oh but you are like Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman" .. yep and look at them now! I guess no one ever really knows what the next move in life may be. 

When another person is involved in the ending of a relationship, it's really hard not to feel a deep sense of being devalued, to the core of who you are. I'll never forget the way my husband would look at his new lover, my friend. The look on his face and in his eyes said it all really. I remember thinking "he does not look at me like that!". It created a powerful force within me to compete. I needed to win him back to somehow reclaim my worth (bad bad bad for the soul) Competing against a woman and against "new" love is soul destroying and an impossible task.

As much as I knew logically, that none of it really had anything to do with me not being "enough" the connection they had filled me with pain and insecurities. I felt like I wasn't sexy enough, affectionate enough, loving enough or able to make someone happy enough. So I set to work trying to be more beautiful, more sexy, and a better lover. There is something about the catastrophe of losing someone that sparks passion. I wrote thousand page letters .. desperately I even googled ways to make him fall in love with me again! Because surely google knows!  I sold my soul to try and compete with another woman. 

After months and months of doing this though I had to stop. I honestly got to a point where my body said a big whopper STOP. It was sickening. If someone does not choose me, no matter who they are, they do not choose me. It is not my job to win anyone back. People make choices. And there was something in this scene of two women fighting over a man, that I did not want to be a part of. 

Because really no matter how beautiful or sexy I made myself, the energy was always going to be ugly. Three people tearing each other apart doesn't create anything beautiful. I had to separate myself from these stories of  "I wasn't good enough" "my marriage was already over" or "it was my own fault" before they destroyed me. That voice, whether they came from other people or inside myself, was only going to do one thing.. and that was completely destroy self worth.

I knew I had to exit this toxic trap. 

So I did...and once Id overcome the practicalities of this exit, I gradually found my feet again. I spent alot of time reading and learning. I read so many books about relationships. I explored my sexuality, different types of relationships, polyamory, open relationships, singleness.. dating. I wanted to work out who I was and what creates a relationship where people feel loved, secure and free (And a relationship where an affair wouldn't happen!)

I set a goal to go on 100 dates (I'm not sure I actually achieved that.. but i've been on quite a few.. Lets call it research! ) and after many, many, many conversation with people there are so many similar themes in long term relationships around not feeling valued, listened to, appreciated and loved. And at the end of all those stories there is a very common theme around people wanting both security and freedom!  Apparently its called the "Dance of intimacy"

The dance it feels like everyone is trying to learn the moves to.

So dance has become my new place for exploring relationships and concepts of connection, disconnection, communication and the feelings that arise when someone may "leave a dance". Its given me a chance to explore how my body responds to change and movement...which has been an important part of reclaiming my body and soul back from heartbreak. Contact dance in particular is so much like any relationship. There is that delicate balance of knowing the boundaries, being connected to self.. others.. and knowing when to finish the connection with someone. Endings are a part of all dances ...relationships... and life. 

Dance has taught me that even when someone leaves a dance or it ends...

I am still enough and I am loved.

Self-worth and I will always be dancing.  

Fight or surrender

So many times in my life I feel like I have been faced with the dilemma of whether to keep fighting for what feels right or to surrender to what is. I have been confronted with endless scenarios where advocating for peoples rights and fighting injustice just feels like the right thing to do. But I have also been confronted with many situations where this fighting has eventually worn me out. Times where I feel at the end of my ability to have any power and I have to surrender. 

Fighting systems, people, injustices feels so deeply important but can get so very exhausting.  Especially when it comes to speaking up for the people who's voices are not heard or cared about. As then I have to speak louder, clearer and for much longer for people listen. 

So this is one of those stories where I would fight and fight, but then had to choose surrender over and over to survive. 

💜 

My mum went into a nursing home when she was 46 years old with Huntingtons Disease. I'd just like you to imagine that for a moment. Imagine that is you. You are 46 years old and you are going to spend the rest of your life in a nursing home with people twice your age. You will no longer have your freedoms to choose your day to day activities, what you eat or where you will go. You will be dependant on others to care for your every need. And this is your future for the next 10 years or so. Imagine. All because you inherited a gene. 

We always knew this would be a part of my mum's future but I don't think any of us really knew it would come as quickly as it did. I was 21 at the time with 2 kids. Caring for her needs was so complex. She really needed a team of people to care for her declining physical, mental and emotional capacities. But there was not one part of me that wanted her to go into a nursing home. I still wish deep in my heart this never happened. But I eventually had to surrender to this as our only option.    

Leading up to this time, I would take care of my mum once a week for my dad, to give him a break. She would come and stay over and we would go to playgroup together. Going to playgroup at the best of times as a young mum was challenging. Feeling the stigma and shame of being a young parent was enough to manage. But going to playgroup with my little kids and my disabled mum was a juggling act! My mums physical chorea movements where very visibly evident. Her arms would be waving around as she walked into the play group and I would be hoping she wasn't going to hit anyone or knock anyone over, as I juggled to get my kids inside safely. 

At this stage in life it felt like everything was all about my mum and her needs, which at times was incredibly frustrating. She looked very much like a drunk woman, which sadly would also feel incredibly embarrassing and exposing. When all i wanted to do at this age was pretty much blend into society and not be noticed. Well that was never going to happen with HD on the scene! 

Many people over the years have stopped me and asked me what drugs my mum is on. I would cringe every time and explain to them that she had a disease. I would explain the nature of the disease and what it's doing to her in the hope for understanding. 

As time went on things were getting harder and harder for my dad to care for her. I was so torn. I wanted her to be happy and I wanted her to have the best. But then I also wanted my freedom and I wanted my own life. Guilt wreaked havoc on me during this time. The responsibility of caretaking her and my kids felt all consuming. I never felt I was doing enough.. But often doing too much. 

She would endlessly call me. I'd get 20 phone calls a day with problems and issues she was having and it was frustrating. I'd often get my husband to take the call and tell her I'm busy. My patients would run low.  Her obsessive behaviors were becoming  more and more difficult to manage. I felt like I was emotionally in a washing machine! 

I remember at one stage I really just wanted to move away, go to University and leave all of this behind. My brothers had moved away to go to University and I wished I could do that.  But I felt so responsible. I felt that I had to stay and help my dad look after her. I also had my kids and partner, so I couldn't leave. So I helped my dad and created my own family. A part of me was OK with that. Another part of me had to lay dormant. 

The day we decided to place my mum in a nursing home was one of the worst days of my life. I wanted to care for my mum at home so much, but reality was it was going to be a long term caring role. Not just a few years. Maybe 10 years or more. I battled this decision and day so much.

The HD Social worker was at my house and I was crying and yelling that it wasn't fair. I was 21 years old and my mum was going into a nursing home at 46? Something about this scene was just wrong, wrong, wrong. I was so mad and upset. Surely there was something else that could be done and that people could help us. Surely there were houses for young people with disabilities! How on earth was she going to survive living with 80 and 90 year olds. It was a horrendous thought. I was so angry at the disease and the lack of supports available. I felt so much shame at our inability to give her the absolute best. She already had lost so much now she was going to lose living in her own home? I couldn't believe a nursing home is what we were going to give her for the next 10 years.

But as I raged, reality was this was the best we had.

My mum had already accepted this. She was so calm this day. Looking back I think she really didn't want anyone to be upset. What was most important to her was that she was close to her family and that we would all visit her. She loved her family so much and all she wanted to do was continue to be apart of that.  

So that is what we did. We moved her into a nursing home and for the next 12 years I would visit her there. 

The nursing home provided care for her basic needs. They provided food, shelter and physical care. My mum wasn't into bingo or line dancing that's for sure. She didn't want to be a part of any of that. She was too hard for them to take on outings, so she didn't fit the criteria for that. But they cared for her practical needs and we cared for her social and emotional needs.  This new care arrangement allowed us to continue to love her, without having the responsibility for every aspect of her care. 

So every Tuesday my husband would meet me at the nursing home, after I finished work. We would do our change over of the kids in my mums nursing home room. He would then go to work and do night shift and I would hang out with my mum.  Over the years our 2 kids turned into 4 kids and the room filled up with more and more babies toddlers and kids. My husband and I would swap our daily stories in this room, swap parenting roles, I would feed my mum ice-cream and we would share a tonne of love, laughter, hugs and tears. 

Visits were both beautiful and horrendous. My mums love, joy, connection with my kids was always beautiful. My goal every visit was to make her laugh. And she always would.

However every few months a new decline would take place and a new conversation with staff would be needed. Conversatoins about how she could no longer toilet or shower herself, to conversations about how she would now needs sanitary pads, new medications, food would now be pureed to a new texture, how difficult her behavior was etc etc etc.

So I would complete my goal of making mum laugh, I would have a conversation with the staff about her care and then more often than not, I would leave the nursing home crying. 

Sometimes mum held onto her acceptance of the nursing home. At other times she just hated it. Sometimes she was cooperative, other times she was angry hitting people and crying that she wanted to leave. She went through a stage where she was violent towards the other residence and she desperately hated living there. Everytime we would take her out for a visit she would throw herself on the ground and refuse to go back. She would fight and fight to stay home. These were heartbreaking fighting days. 

As her brain was being damaged by her illness she lost her ability to express herself verbally and she found new creative ways to get her needs met. Which often involved a floor. The nursing home was in no way equipped to deal with her needs. They didn't have the knowledge or training to care for someone with Huntington's disease. They were trained and equipped to deal with elderly people.

During this period mums behavior became so difficult they asked her to leave. I'm not really sure how you manage to get kicked out of a nursing home, but mum did.

I fought so hard against this. I was so angry that someone with a disability could be told they are too hard. I wrote letters, had meetings, cried, yelled, but none of it made any different. She was moved to Sydney, 6 hours away from us.

She was sent to a facility that was set up to care specifically for people with Huntingtons Disease. I think mum would have been about 52 at this stage and she was now one of the oldest people in this care home. I walked into her new home on my first visit to this center and I was shocked. Everyone in the room had HD. About 20 residence all looked like my mum. Peoples arms were waving around, there were some people laying on the floor, throwing food, wearing helmets, sitting in wheel chairs and trying to talk. 

It felt like a relief. I felt like we were home.

For years I had sat in a nursing home feeling different and that we didn't belong. I often felt like we were a nuisance and my mum was too hard. But here, this was exactly where she belonged. With people who knew how to care for her. With people her age. With other people with HD

The staff in this facility knew how to manage my mums behaviors, what medication she should be on, how to help her with routine. Funnily she was not violent anymore. I always felt like I had to do so much educating of doctors and nurses around how to care for her .. but here I didn't need to do a thing. Except eat the ice-cream.

Mum stayed in this facility for a few months whilst they changed her medication and stabilized her to a point that hopefully the nursing home would take her back. She went on outings, they had a fabulous coffee shop and she had fun. She was incredibly brave but she missed her family and wanted to come back.  

Over the weeks on her new medication she lost her ability to walk. This was one of the needs that the nursing home had for them to be able to care for her. They agreed she could move back to the nursing home, in a wheel chair, so she moved back in. 

As tragic as this was (and again I kicked and screamed at how wrong this was!) there was also some relief that being in a wheel chair now clearly said "this woman has a disability" which changed the way people looked at her. She was no longer a potential drug addict, or drunk, she was clearly unwell and sick. And the wheel chair spoke that for us.

Which perhaps allowed us all to surrender... again.

💜 

"Surrender is what happens when you come to the end of your power. Surrender is what happens when you have searched to the bottom of your soul and found out this truth — which is that you really can't do this thing anymore. Surrender is what happens when you don't have any more ideas for how to fix everything. Surrender is what happens when none of your survival strategies work anymore — and your playbook is out of pages. Surrender is what happens when you turn it all over to God. You release your grip on the thing. You stop white-knucking it. You stop pretending things are great when things are actually horrible. You stop putting on a fake face, or glossing over the problem, or lying. You face the truth that you are not the most powerful force in the universe. You turn it over to fate. You exhale, and let go. - Elizabeth Gilbert