5 Years Later...

Today marks the 5th anniversary of mum's passing. 3:24am, to be exact.

I unintentionally stayed up past that time, and just like I did on the morning in question, looked at my phone at the exact same time, not knowing back then, that mum had just taken her final breath.

I started to reflect on the differences from then, til now, and while many things have moved on during that time, some things haven't changed at all.

Her handbag is still on the chair where it was last left. All of her clothes and shoes are still in the wardrobe. I've relocated some of her jewelry to my bedroom so I can wear some of it, but her art supplies are still under the table next to the piano, now covered in cobwebs, dust and whatever else.

I think one of the biggest things I've noticed in that time is that the pain has reduced. 

When I looked at my phone (also changed) to look at the time early this morning at saw it was the exact moment of her passing, I remembered how I felt back then and wondering was going to happen, and how I personally was going to get through not only each coming day, but the rest of my life, now that it had been changed forever. I knew as I was driving into the hospital car park that day, after praying for the first time in possibly years that I'd make it there in time, that whatever happened, life wouldn't be the same, I just had no idea what that meant.

The shock took months to subside. I'd never cried so much possibly in my entire life, and I resented the fact that not only was the world continuing on as it always had, while I was left to figure out what my life meant without a mother, but that every new person I'd meet for the rest of my life, I'd need to rip off the band-aid of telling people that she'd passed on, and dealing with the residual grief that came up as a result.

The first birthday without her I was fortunate enough to have a great group of friends around me who joined me for a low-key gathering at my old apartment. The birthday after that, I was hit with the sobering realization that she was really gone and wouldn't be calling to excitedly wish me happy birthday, ask me what I wanted, both for presents and dinner, and to check when I'd be over to celebrate with the family. I cried constantly for the whole week.

(Credit: https://vishakhabhela.wordpress.com/2015/07/24/most-moving-damon-salvatore-speeches/)

In the days after her passing, I started doing research into what happens to bodies after a person dies, and often found myself wondering what she would look like if I were to dig her up now. The same thing I wondered several years after my paternal grandmother passed on. (I was 9, and she was the first family death in my lifetime)

I'd been told by family friends that the hardest part about the loss of a loved one is the little things, I didn't realize how true it was until those little things started coming up. Not being able to call her when I got out of an exam at uni, not being able to update her each time something new happened, like when I grief-bought new clothes and couldn't ask her opinion on them, instead turning to dad who had absolutely no clue how to respond. 

One of the biggest things are the occasional, but incredibly vivid dreams where she's still alive. Even though I not only witnessed her taking her last breath, but also saw her body in the coffin, then being buried, it's like my conscious mind knows she's not here, but my unconscious mind is still trying to reconcile the information and hasn't fully processed it.

The first dream was the two of us arguing in the kitchen, as per normal. She was adamant she hadn't died, but I knew she definitely had, and couldn't understand how she'd come back to life. The rest of the family just acted like it was completely normal, which just made it even weirder.

Other dreams were of a similar nature. Mum seeming off, but definitely alive, and me wondering why no one else had noticed, and being completely baffled as to how she was there in the first place, until I woke up and it all made sense.

For me, the hardest part is not having a mother who's present. We didn't have the greatest relationship when she was alive, and between the cancer, other physical ailments and her gradual memory loss which would have likely been more devastating to experience that the cancer, she wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway, but it's knowing that she's not here. Her stuff is, and anytime it's been moved, I've had a mini meltdown at the change, but there's nowhere I can go and see or be with her. Her physical body is in a body in the ground of a cemetery. Her legacy is in the memories of those who knew her and were personally affected by her, in some manner or another, but she isn't here.

Over the past few years, I've developed a stronger interest in spirituality, supernatural and paranormal phenomenon, and I think that's helped me to deal with her loss a bit better. Believing that while she's not physically here, her soul or spirit lives on elsewhere and she's watching over and guiding me from there, and as I like to imagine, spending her time socializing with all those who passed on before her, makes me feel okay about not having her physically here. Her body had been through enough and she had to let it go, but she taught me what I needed to know in the time she was here, and the rest I just wait for signs of, as crazy as it may seem to others.

(Credit: Pinterest)

Life has continued on. I've graduated university, changed jobs a few times, moved back home again, and really started to reflect and appreciate the life I had with her, even if it wasn't long or full enough. 

I started to pursue acting and modelling, which is something I've always wanted to do, but that she'd never have approved on, and as dad told me as a child, the one rule was not to upset mum. But I've also started to share my story of growing up with a mentally ill parent and how that's affected me, and continues to affect me.

I intend on making a documentary one day about her life, and showing what it's like for someone who has mental illness, but also detailing the stories of those who knew her, and of my own family's experiences in dealing with her (with permission of course), so I can help to shine a light on, and work towards breaking the stigma around mental health, in the hopes that more people become aware of it's existence, recognize the signs for themselves or someone they know, and get the help and support they need, without feeling ashamed or judged for doing so.

As bittersweet as it is to not have her here, she's left me with an amazing story to tell, memories that I can cherish for the remainder of my life, and knowing that just like she was throughout my life, when it's my time to go, she'll be there waiting for me with the rest of my departed loved ones.  

(Credit: Pinterest)

Somewhere I Belong

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I came up with this blog post idea a year ago (~Feb 2019), but didn't get around to actually writing it until now. Maybe because I'm still figuring out where it is that I do belong.

At the time of conception, I was in the midst of consecutive life changes and figuring out where I fit in with everything that was going on.

In the space of just a few months, I'd gone from working in a job I didn't love, but had been at for 7 years, to being unemployed for a month, then undertaking a short-term contract which was abruptly cut short the week before Christmas.

During the time of the contract job, I'd received an email from the property manager of the unit I was renting and had lived in for the previous 6 years (5 with my cousin as a flatmate and just over 1 as the sole occupant which I'll possibly create a blog post about later), that the owner wanted the unit back and as required by law, they were giving me the 90 days notice.

Finding myself yet again unemployed and struggling to meet the demands of being a sole occupant, saying it was a stressful time would be an understatement.

I had welfare payments coming in, but that was enough to cover a week's worth of rent and a few other expenses, within reason.

I was determined not to move back home, as it'd taken me SO long to get out of there in the first place, so when a lady (who I was close with) from the church my family goes to, was desperately searching for a house and dog sitter, I jumped at the chance. Even though it meant I'd suddenly gone from needing to be out in over a month, to moving out in a week and having to condense down 6 years of living in a 2 bedroom apartment with internal laundry and garage in such a small time frame. Also, 'clean' and 'tidy' are words rarely used in my vocabulary, so it was far from an easy task.

Through sheer determination the move was done in time (much like every time I'd left an essay to the last minute, but since the cut off was midnight, submitting it at 11:50pm or thereabouts, still felt like a massive achievement), with the incredible help of family and friends, and I was able to take it easy for a few days in my new residence.

It was nice to have a new home of sorts to myself for a few weeks, although it still felt like I was in between.

I knew it wasn't a permanent solution, and this was brought home even more so when the owners returned and resumed their daily life.

While both are lovely people, and I'm grateful to them for opening their home to me, it just wasn't 'it'.

I wasn't part of their family or how they did things, and the only other alternative was going back home, which, as it turns out I was essentially forced to do a few weeks later due to the room being needed for other guests they had coming.

It's such a strange feeling to not really know where you belong, and more so, very unsettling to not feel like you belong anywhere in particular.

I think it's a much bigger issue than just having somewhere to live. It's about who you connect with and who your 'tribe' is. Something I think I've always struggled with throughout my life.

I grew up in a devout religious environment which I left when I was 18 because it was the youngest age I could legally leave at (my parents knew they couldn't make me go when I was legal age, but any younger and I had no choice in the matter). I loved watching music videos on Saturday mornings and TV shows like Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Most of the kids I grew up with didn't have TVs or weren't allowed to watch or engage with the things I was, which made me the outcast.

As I got older my interests changed to include Harry Potter, and later again, spirituality, which was vastly different from the religion I'd known, yet I felt a really strong pull towards it, and still do.

While I'm aware that there's a huge Harry Potter fanbase and community, as well as with spirituality, there's something really unique about finding the one that best fits you, and that usually takes time to do that. Just like it takes time to find your thing, and ultimately yourself. Something I'm still in the process of doing.

(Image credit: https://quotefancy.com/quote/64567/Linkin-Park-I-want-to-find-something-I-ve-wanted-all-along-Somewhere-I-belong)

It's been nearly a year now since I moved back home and one of the things I've realized is that everything I was fearing was based on the circumstances of how I left. Mum had passed on, so our complicated relationship was null and void. My brother had moved out a year or so beforehand, so it just left dad and I to our own devices, and admittedly a lot of emotional and psychological baggage.

I acknowledged though that I'm also not the same person I was when I moved out. I've done years of personal development, moved 3 times, traveled overseas a number of times, had a long-term and short-term job, both of which taught me a lot and allowed me to grow further within myself. How I handle things now is different, at least in some ways, but the situation is different overall. I have all the freedom I always wanted to have and I'm making it work for me, at least for the time being.

I'm not sure that the family home is where I belong though. I'm not sure exactly where is, but I think that's all part of my life's journey, or at least this particular part of it. As a number of people have said to me, I'm back home with dad for a reason. Maybe that's to heal things, to learn how to respond better, or just not respond. Maybe it's for me to learn and grow, or to show dad by example all the things that are possible but not the norm, I guess I won't know until it's time for me to.

In the meantime, I'm growing more and more content with just surrendering and going with the flow, knowing that whatever is meant for me won't pass me, and to gradually release the baggage of the past so that one day I'll truly find somewhere I belong.

(Image credit: https://www.difrusciaphotography.com/shop/somewhere-i-belong/)

It All Started With Olive Oil...

(Photo credit to www.buzzquotes.com)

Well technically, Olive oil spread.

I was doing grocery shopping last weekend on an empty stomach which everyone knows is the worst time to go. Anyways, I had a craving for a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich but rather than buying one from Michel's Patisserie on my way home when I already had a decent sized container of hot chips smothered in gravy and a Lebanese pizza in a separate plastic bag, I thought I'd just get the ingredients to make one at home.

As I was going through the butter/spread section of the fridge and looking for the usual generic branded olive oil spread I'd become accustomed to purchasing, I looked briefly at the brand name spreads just next to them and deliberated on them for a few moments.

There was about $1 price difference between the two. Not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, yet I'd always gone for the cheaper option, after all, they were the same, weren't they?

(Photo credit to www.buzzquotes.com)

I started to think about it some more as I looked between the two. On a sub-conscious level, what message am I giving myself by saving an entire dollar on a spread that I didn't use that frequently anyway.

The brand name spread was made by a company which was founded in the 1850's or something like that and claimed to be experts when it came to quality olive oil. Assumedly a company which had been around that long weren't bad at their jobs and should be taken more seriously.

(Photo credit to www.aliexpress.com)

Usually when I purchased generic branded items it was because of money fears as I'm sure many people know. The only problem with my fears was that they were based on my childhood of not having money. Dad had the occasional contract which didn't last too long because he was overly qualified and a fair sight older than other candidates. Mum had given up working shortly after my parents got married because the stress of her job was getting to her, plus she wanted to be a stay at home mother when my brother and I came along. Between the two of them, money was always tight and many of my parents fights were over mum spending more than my dad was getting in. Not to say that mum was materialistic, she just came from a household where everything was provided for her so she brought the same principle into her marriage even thought it didn't work so well.

Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly proud of my thriftiness, resourcefulness and bargain-hunting skills which I developed from my childhood and with strong encouragement from dad. The thing is, my life is different now. I'm working 30ish hours per week, I get paid a pretty good wage plus commissions on any sales I make. I've never been left wanting for something, even if I can't buy it straight away, I'll always get around to it in time. (I remind myself of this every time I get my therapy bill and check my bank balance).

(Photo credit to quotesblog.net)

As I'm sure so many people know, it's very hard to change behaviors which have been drummed into you from a young age and made to feel like they're law. But, I've found that if you just do one thing differently, you'll gradually unravel the tangled web of beliefs you had to believe because of the circumstances you were living in.

On a much more personal level, the same can be said about beliefs towards yourself as a person and your body image. My mother was always negative about herself. Whenever she was getting changed in the dressing room and asked me for my opinion on something, I'd oblige, but moments later she'd go back to bagging herself out. "My arms are too flabby", "My stomach sticks out, I need to do more exercise", "I look dreadful in this!", the personal insults go on and on.

(Photo credit to pinterest.com)

I was always determined to not end up like mum which her negative beliefs. Unfortunately, as I told my dad and my therapist recently, as much as you try not to follow in your parents footsteps, if they're present in your life and are the only role-model that you really have, you inadvertently pick up a few nasty things from them.

While I've never looked in the mirror and thought 'eww, gross!', I generally didn't have an opinion about myself. I didn't have enough, much or really any consistently positive reinforcement to make me believe that I looked good. At the same time, I refused point blank to adopt my mother's negative mindset, so I settled for somewhere in the middle. Indifference. When I looked in the mirror I thought neither yay nor nay. I'd just look and think or feel nothing, more accurately I'd only use the mirror to brush my hair or squeeze a pimple, no words of reinforcement were ever uttered or really thought by me about myself.

(Photo credit to top-img.com)

My mother, with her insecurities and mental illness, made it hard for me to appreciate myself as a person. As they say, 'Do as I say, not as I do' yet it's usually the opposite for children, so I was sent the mixed message that I could be negative about myself but lift others up at the same thing. It's all well and good for others, just not for me, but apparently that's okay. I deserve it.

I explained this to my dad and my therapist and both agreed that it made sense. I also told my therapist that as hard as dealing with the loss of my mother is to deal with, it's also dealing and processing all the false beliefs I've held for so long that were unintentionally reinforced by her.

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It's a hard thing to do, going against everything you've been taught and believed for so long, but it's the best thing you'll ever do for you.

I started being kind to myself, lord knows it's about time I did so! Instead of beating myself up for continually buying and eating chocolate and chips, I do whatever makes me feel better.
Instead of chastising myself for daily stalking people on Instagram and spending a few hours searching through Facebook photos and downloading them to my computer to be deleted later on when I'm past this particular period in my life, I recognized that it's only a few hours (a few seconds to a few minutes on Instagram) every now and again. I don't spend my entire day or night on there, I don't follow/unfollow, friend/unfriend people mindlessly. Hell, I was still able to do my work and make a sale or two at the same time. Not bad if I do say so myself! Instead of adding up the cost of the things I want to buy then doing a kind of 'I want this but I like having money' pee-pee dance, I'll buy whatever it is that I want and remind myself that I deserve it, I'm getting paid and I can always return it/throw away something else that I own.

(Photo credit to picturequotes.com)

The good news thus far is that I've really started to appreciate my body and myself. When I look in the mirror as I'm getting dressed, I don't think negative things. I think things like 'I have a nice shape'.

Yes I have a few extra kilos, but I'm not obscenely overweight. It's not like I don't do any exercise whatsoever, I just don't like the label of 'exercise', it sounds like such a dirty word to me. I can fit comfortably into my clothes and if I can't, I give them away to someone else who would appreciate them just as much, if not more than I did. It also helps seeing so many more curvy women in the spotlight, even if I'm not the biggest fan of them (Kim Kardashian, Beyonce, Lena Dunham, Jesy Nelson of Little Mix, just to name a few).

When it comes to myself and my friends, I'm continually grateful that I've attracted some truly wonderful people into my life. Yes ME! I did that! I click so well with my friends and the people that I'm closest to that even though it's still a work in progress, I can now start to be happy about the person I am because of the people around me.

(Photo credit to quotepixel.com)

Sure when it comes to shopping I still balk at the price of things, like when I spent $100 on Damart clothing because mum used to order it and it kinda makes me feel close to her, the same way that ordering Avon does, but I say that I'm investing in myself. The same goes for whenever I buy ecourses on self-love and creativity or whatever. They're not usually terribly cheap, but as a close friend told me the other night, by spending money you're also bringing it back in, AKA manifesting. Like when you put love or kindness or gratitude out and it comes back to you sometimes in the strangest of ways. There's no finite source of money in the world. That's the thing we all need to remember.

(Photo credit to pinterest.com)

As I gradually learn to loosen the wallet zip for fear that I'll run out of money, I remember that I'm still working, still getting paid, there are weeks that no sales come through and weeks that I supplement more than half my income. Either way, I'm not going to be destitute any time soon.

For those of you still reading, thank you for staying with me. And for those who are still wondering, yes I did buy the brand name olive oil spread and I'm still feeling pretty damn good about making such a small yet monumental step towards being happy with me.

It's funny where a simple thing like grocery shopping will take you.

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