Friday 7 December 2012
Crazy for Christmas lights!
I love a string of fairy lights, or a string of coloured lights, and a house absolutely pulsating with festive bulbs - yay!
Sunday 21 October 2012
Too late to apologise?
I have an unusual invitation on my hall table - it's an invitation to an apology.
I've never received an invitation to an apology before, have you?
Apologies are usually not formally announced, with a guest list drawn up and an 'after party' (or should that be wake?) planned.
This week I will go and sit in Queen's Hall at the Victorian Parliament and listen to a powerful white man apologise for the mistakes of previously powerful white men, and I'm not sure what to expect.
The apology is for the government's past practices surrounding forced adoption. About frickin' time.
I was adopted in the midst of the 'baby scoop era', and I have no clue as to whether I was willingly, thoughtfully surrendered (perish the thought) or whether my 17 year old mother was forced by immense societal pressure, a mother who valued the opinions of others more than having a relationship with her own grandchild, by a lack of resources to enable her to bring me up, or by shame and desperation I can't imagine, to relinquish a child she probably never even got to see, let alone hold. Either way... well, words fail me.
I cannot imagine being a young woman who had her baby coldly, violently removed from her four decades ago, preparing for this day - I do expect that there will be some empty chairs of those who just cannot bring themselves to attend. My heart aches for those women.
I do expect there to be anger and tears and that no matter what is said, some will find it all too little, too late - and who could blame them? I hope for a sense of healing, at least the first hope for the hope of healing these decades old wounds.
Being adopted is challenging - it is more complex that I think it is reasonable to expect anyone not touched by adoption to understand. For me, it is sometimes the ultimate clash of internal forces - profound loss, rejection, gratitude and devastation often occur simultaneously. Not every day, thank goodness, but at times, it is overwhelming. I am grateful for the steps I have been able to take to assimilate this reality into my sense of self.
And to those who say 'just get over it' - respectfully I say, piss off. You are not helping and your inability to even attempt to walk a mile in the shoes of another is just sad.
To the friends I have who will respond compassionately to whatever my response is - I thank you in advance.
To those who I can't share this with, I'm sorry. It's just not possible, at least at this point in time.
So if you know someone, love someone, remember someone who has been touched by adoption, think of them with extra kindness this week. They may need a shoulder to cry on, or just someone to take the time to see them, to see their pain and anguish and loss and hope, and to say, I see you and I am truly sorry this happened to you.
For Andrea.
I've never received an invitation to an apology before, have you?
Apologies are usually not formally announced, with a guest list drawn up and an 'after party' (or should that be wake?) planned.
This week I will go and sit in Queen's Hall at the Victorian Parliament and listen to a powerful white man apologise for the mistakes of previously powerful white men, and I'm not sure what to expect.
The apology is for the government's past practices surrounding forced adoption. About frickin' time.
I was adopted in the midst of the 'baby scoop era', and I have no clue as to whether I was willingly, thoughtfully surrendered (perish the thought) or whether my 17 year old mother was forced by immense societal pressure, a mother who valued the opinions of others more than having a relationship with her own grandchild, by a lack of resources to enable her to bring me up, or by shame and desperation I can't imagine, to relinquish a child she probably never even got to see, let alone hold. Either way... well, words fail me.
I cannot imagine being a young woman who had her baby coldly, violently removed from her four decades ago, preparing for this day - I do expect that there will be some empty chairs of those who just cannot bring themselves to attend. My heart aches for those women.
I do expect there to be anger and tears and that no matter what is said, some will find it all too little, too late - and who could blame them? I hope for a sense of healing, at least the first hope for the hope of healing these decades old wounds.
Being adopted is challenging - it is more complex that I think it is reasonable to expect anyone not touched by adoption to understand. For me, it is sometimes the ultimate clash of internal forces - profound loss, rejection, gratitude and devastation often occur simultaneously. Not every day, thank goodness, but at times, it is overwhelming. I am grateful for the steps I have been able to take to assimilate this reality into my sense of self.
And to those who say 'just get over it' - respectfully I say, piss off. You are not helping and your inability to even attempt to walk a mile in the shoes of another is just sad.
To the friends I have who will respond compassionately to whatever my response is - I thank you in advance.
To those who I can't share this with, I'm sorry. It's just not possible, at least at this point in time.
So if you know someone, love someone, remember someone who has been touched by adoption, think of them with extra kindness this week. They may need a shoulder to cry on, or just someone to take the time to see them, to see their pain and anguish and loss and hope, and to say, I see you and I am truly sorry this happened to you.
For Andrea.
Sunday 7 October 2012
Post-match review
It has been a pretty stressful couple of weeks, not my preferred state of being. Stuff will always frustrate me in life, that's no revelation, but it has been really hard to keep going without the way I felt spilling out and staining the people around me. Not nice, for them, or for me. The fact that I felt 'justified' in my aggro has no bearing on how I mishandled it. I let it get the better of me and that sucked for everyone around me. Yuk. I was part of the problem, not the solution, simple as that.
This week it came to a head and strong words were spoken, which left me reeling, and sobbing (I know it's hard to believe - me, crying?!). But that's not the point. The good that came from it is.
After I had stopped bursting into tears, which took several hours, I took some time to think about what was said, what I did wrong, how I could do better and what I could take from the experience. I sorted through what mattered and what I could let go and I decided to address one particular thing that troubled me. I even wrote myself a little script to stay focused!
The next day I initiated a conversation with one of the peeps in the previous day's discussion, and with a bit of to and fro, I worked out what I'd heard wasn't what was said, and I was able to explain that what he'd heard wasn't what I'd said - ah the art of clear communication.... I am so glad there was an opportunity to go back and fix that part of it.
Misunderstanding others (or being misunderstood) has been going on since the dawn of time. No matter how clear we think we're being, when things get heated, and/or emotional, there's no way to know that the person you're talking to (or at), can understand you or vice versa.
Some people in this world love argy-bargy and get a hard-on from being argumentative or provocative - I 100% hate that. I hate it when people are angry with me, and I am completely undone when I discover something I've done has been the scource of people's frustrations or disappointment. I never want to have a debate or argument as sport, ever. Just to be clear, never, EVER.
So a period that had some awfully deep lows, ended up in a day of peace and productivity and laughter and kind words. I am so frickin' grateful for that! And I learned some good lessons into the bargain.
Progress, yay me!
There's something really powerful about going back to the table, and though I admit I don't go back to every 'table' in my life (I'm most definitely a work in progress and in some instances a completely disinterested party in any kind of table read) I'm really glad I went back to the one that was set before me this week. I came away from the second table feeling full - full of hope that I can do better, and be better, and full of relief that I was given the chance to speak my piece, in peace.
And yesterday I got to drive up and down the nearby hills and see this beautiful sight.
Peace xx
This week it came to a head and strong words were spoken, which left me reeling, and sobbing (I know it's hard to believe - me, crying?!). But that's not the point. The good that came from it is.
After I had stopped bursting into tears, which took several hours, I took some time to think about what was said, what I did wrong, how I could do better and what I could take from the experience. I sorted through what mattered and what I could let go and I decided to address one particular thing that troubled me. I even wrote myself a little script to stay focused!
The next day I initiated a conversation with one of the peeps in the previous day's discussion, and with a bit of to and fro, I worked out what I'd heard wasn't what was said, and I was able to explain that what he'd heard wasn't what I'd said - ah the art of clear communication.... I am so glad there was an opportunity to go back and fix that part of it.
Misunderstanding others (or being misunderstood) has been going on since the dawn of time. No matter how clear we think we're being, when things get heated, and/or emotional, there's no way to know that the person you're talking to (or at), can understand you or vice versa.
Some people in this world love argy-bargy and get a hard-on from being argumentative or provocative - I 100% hate that. I hate it when people are angry with me, and I am completely undone when I discover something I've done has been the scource of people's frustrations or disappointment. I never want to have a debate or argument as sport, ever. Just to be clear, never, EVER.
So a period that had some awfully deep lows, ended up in a day of peace and productivity and laughter and kind words. I am so frickin' grateful for that! And I learned some good lessons into the bargain.
Progress, yay me!
There's something really powerful about going back to the table, and though I admit I don't go back to every 'table' in my life (I'm most definitely a work in progress and in some instances a completely disinterested party in any kind of table read) I'm really glad I went back to the one that was set before me this week. I came away from the second table feeling full - full of hope that I can do better, and be better, and full of relief that I was given the chance to speak my piece, in peace.
And yesterday I got to drive up and down the nearby hills and see this beautiful sight.
Peace xx
Friday 21 September 2012
Friday I'm in love...
Things I love about today, which happens to be a Friday:
Sitting around the table with the people I work with, talking about what we do, what the company's values are, what's next. The big picture.
Listening to my bosses talk about this company they have poured passion, heart, soul, sweat and innumerable hours into was so inspiring.
Loved that.
Also loved that we ate and drank together, shared stories, laughed and got to enjoy each other's company. So happy to be part of a committed, diverse, fun, smart group of people.
And then after work, I met my amazing friend Sue for dinner, wine and great conversation, so good to share my life with her.
So today, Friday, is totes lovely - and tomorrow I will be in the same room as Grand Designs guru Kevin - OMG! Love that!!!!!
A x
Sitting around the table with the people I work with, talking about what we do, what the company's values are, what's next. The big picture.
Listening to my bosses talk about this company they have poured passion, heart, soul, sweat and innumerable hours into was so inspiring.
Loved that.
Also loved that we ate and drank together, shared stories, laughed and got to enjoy each other's company. So happy to be part of a committed, diverse, fun, smart group of people.
And then after work, I met my amazing friend Sue for dinner, wine and great conversation, so good to share my life with her.
So today, Friday, is totes lovely - and tomorrow I will be in the same room as Grand Designs guru Kevin - OMG! Love that!!!!!
A x
Tuesday 18 September 2012
The long and winding road.....
Ever found yourself divulging more than you expected? Yep, me too.
Tears, again. At work, again. Audible groan (yours, and mine), oh not again..... thankfully I have a lovely boss who copes well with my inarticulate stumblings about whatever 'moment' I'm having. (In my own defence, I had no clue that point A would lead to point 'overshare' today. Truly.)
Something is definitely going on with me... and I can't work it out.
As I attempted to talk and write my way through what's going on, I've stumbled upon a new phrase, 'believer gene'. I think I have this gene and it's a bit lost and confused lately.
I used to believe passionately, to the death, in God (in the shape of a social activist UC model, followed by a fiery Pentecostal season, followed by a stint as a mega-church going pseudo Baptist, followed by a season in Bible College, which sadly is often the final chapter in such stories).
I ardently followed that path for years, and it was in many ways, very, very good and healing and powerful for me. There is no denying that my time in that world shaped me, and I am deeply grateful for that. Being a believer gave me a sense of belonging, purpose, and acceptance. Powerful, necessary forces in life, especially for a wounded soul.
So, fast forward to 2012 and though I can't fully articulate it in a blog post (or at all), let's just say I'm not ardent anymore, except againt some of the excesses that I believe were encouraged, expected and even demanded of me as a good soldier of the cross. (Yes, I'm overstating and being simplistic, but it's my blog, feel free to stop reading at any time.)
So what do people who don't have what I would perhaps condescendingly call 'a belief system' live for... their families, partners, children, their contributions to bettering the world (many of which far exceed those who are the 'salt of the earth').... again I don't know. I'm sure there are some who don't think like this at all, they just get up everyday and get on with it. What a luxury/curse that would be!
And what does a post-christian (I'm sure that term exists in postmodernist christian hipster literature) do to shape the way they live? Dunno. It's a curly one, that's for sure, especially with a 'believer gene' looking for a new place to... nope, I don't have enough scientific language to finish that metaphor.. you know, do whatever genes do.
I don't have answers, but I do have questions, and tears, aplenty lately. And if I put myself in the apre 'belief system' camp (in a religious sense), which I feel kind of duty bound to do as someone who 'was but is no longer ' (see what I did there with a bit of a play on the dynamics of the kingdom of God?) then how shall I live?
Tears break: I just got a text from someone I work with - they noticed I was quiet today and decided to check in. I believe in THAT! I believe in kindness and being mindful of those around us and being part of a team.
Anyway, no answers will be forthcoming in this post - sorry to disappoint on that front. I just felt like committing some of these thoughts to the keyboard tonight, in the hope that I'll somehow feel less lonely in the endeavour... as I contemplate what I think, believe and feel, I hope to share the journey with compassionate souls who will perhaps see a little of our shared humanity in these ramblings.
What I do know is that it isn't over yet, and I have hope that it can be better, and less dehydrating than it was today!
Be kind to each other, and yourselves : )
*all thoughts herein are unfinished and the sole responsibility of the author
Tears, again. At work, again. Audible groan (yours, and mine), oh not again..... thankfully I have a lovely boss who copes well with my inarticulate stumblings about whatever 'moment' I'm having. (In my own defence, I had no clue that point A would lead to point 'overshare' today. Truly.)
Something is definitely going on with me... and I can't work it out.
As I attempted to talk and write my way through what's going on, I've stumbled upon a new phrase, 'believer gene'. I think I have this gene and it's a bit lost and confused lately.
I used to believe passionately, to the death, in God (in the shape of a social activist UC model, followed by a fiery Pentecostal season, followed by a stint as a mega-church going pseudo Baptist, followed by a season in Bible College, which sadly is often the final chapter in such stories).
I ardently followed that path for years, and it was in many ways, very, very good and healing and powerful for me. There is no denying that my time in that world shaped me, and I am deeply grateful for that. Being a believer gave me a sense of belonging, purpose, and acceptance. Powerful, necessary forces in life, especially for a wounded soul.
So, fast forward to 2012 and though I can't fully articulate it in a blog post (or at all), let's just say I'm not ardent anymore, except againt some of the excesses that I believe were encouraged, expected and even demanded of me as a good soldier of the cross. (Yes, I'm overstating and being simplistic, but it's my blog, feel free to stop reading at any time.)
So what do people who don't have what I would perhaps condescendingly call 'a belief system' live for... their families, partners, children, their contributions to bettering the world (many of which far exceed those who are the 'salt of the earth').... again I don't know. I'm sure there are some who don't think like this at all, they just get up everyday and get on with it. What a luxury/curse that would be!
And what does a post-christian (I'm sure that term exists in postmodernist christian hipster literature) do to shape the way they live? Dunno. It's a curly one, that's for sure, especially with a 'believer gene' looking for a new place to... nope, I don't have enough scientific language to finish that metaphor.. you know, do whatever genes do.
I don't have answers, but I do have questions, and tears, aplenty lately. And if I put myself in the apre 'belief system' camp (in a religious sense), which I feel kind of duty bound to do as someone who 'was but is no longer ' (see what I did there with a bit of a play on the dynamics of the kingdom of God?) then how shall I live?
Tears break: I just got a text from someone I work with - they noticed I was quiet today and decided to check in. I believe in THAT! I believe in kindness and being mindful of those around us and being part of a team.
Anyway, no answers will be forthcoming in this post - sorry to disappoint on that front. I just felt like committing some of these thoughts to the keyboard tonight, in the hope that I'll somehow feel less lonely in the endeavour... as I contemplate what I think, believe and feel, I hope to share the journey with compassionate souls who will perhaps see a little of our shared humanity in these ramblings.
What I do know is that it isn't over yet, and I have hope that it can be better, and less dehydrating than it was today!
Be kind to each other, and yourselves : )
*all thoughts herein are unfinished and the sole responsibility of the author
Friday 31 August 2012
Road Clouds
So beautiful! If you keep your eyes peeled, even being stuck in traffic can make you smile.
Happy weekend everyone.
Happy weekend everyone.
Saturday 25 August 2012
Return to Daylesford
Lunch today was at Du Fermier in Trentham. The food and wine were really, really good, and the service was friendly, informed and relaxed. That makes such a difference - an everyday ordinary thing, or a special thing like lunch with good friends, can be taken to another level by having people around you that are enjoying what they're doing. I didn't get the name of the guy that served us today, but he was great. Thanks guy! (I want to be that guy in my realm.)
I'm having a weekend away with a good friend of mine. We've done this trip before, Daylesford is an easy drive from home, and we'll spend time hanging out at our amazing accommodation, wandering around the shops, visiting old haunts, avoiding overrated tourist traps, eating great food... generally having a jolly good time.
As the mist settled over the township this evening, I was struck by how special it is to be ensconsed somewhere cosy and quiet. Good to be away from home for a few days, good to have a friend to come away with, good to just be and recharge the batteries.
The drive up was easy, my 'mixed tape' (I can't bring myself to use 'playlist' yet) made the time pass quickly and it was great to see suburbia disappearing in the rear vision mirror and the hills opening up before me.
I'm not a girl with a passport, so I know I don't have a leg to stand on comparitively speaking, but Victoria ROCKS! An hour and a half from thriving Melbs, I'm in a gorgeous house in a beautiful country town, my friend Sue is cooking a risotto, we're listening to music.... I know that in France, South America and Spain, there are people having their own versions of a weekend away in a cosy regional hamlet, but I really love being right here, right now!
Funny to think that just five days ago I was a having a meltdown and feeling super stressed - life's funny like that, some days you just want to tear your hair out and punch someone in the head, and then you regroup and life's sweet again.
The moral of the story - wherever you are, whatever's going on, it isn't the end (in most cases). If the week is horrendous, like it was for one of the lovely shop owners we chatted to today, it will probably pass and improve, if the days are sweet, then drink that in, it can carry you through dark days that may be ahead.
I love this life of mine. I appreciate it, I'm thankful for what's behind and what's ahead, and most of all I'm thankful for right now. 6.44pm on 25 August 2012 - this is a good moment.
Time for a glass of wine.
Cheers,
Annette x
Wednesday 15 August 2012
Stress Management 101
Last week I was having a chat with someone a few decades younger than me (sigh) and we got on to the topic of maintaining your emotional health.
It is so important to make the inner life a priority, but sometimes that can be hard to navigate, especially if the concept of 'topping up the emotional tank' is new.
I am pretty good at filling my emotional tank. I know when to chill, when to sit in a cafe and read a magazine, to pull up the drawbridge and hunker down, to call a friend for a catch up. But...
Now I am wondering about a tune-up in another realm - stress management. I have never been much of a stress-head, sure I can get fired up about stuff, no mistake - but I don't usually hang on to things. The norm has been that when I leave the office, things I have been gnawing at are usually forgotten pretty quickly.
This season of my life is 'learning curve rich' (ahem) - which I have found quite, well, stressful. Some days this has motivated me to do more, grasp new concepts and rise to the challenges. Sometimes I've been left in tears, wakeful and churning in the wee small hours and basically frickin' discouraged and overwhelmed!
Being in that headspace makes it really tough to remember the successes I have had - this week for some reason that's been especially tough.
BUT I am determined to try and find a way to work it out, because to walk away from the frustration I feel in handling stress would be a really stupid, shortsighted move!
Stress management 101, enrolments now open. Anyone want to sign up or even better offer me some tips?
Serenity now!
A x
It is so important to make the inner life a priority, but sometimes that can be hard to navigate, especially if the concept of 'topping up the emotional tank' is new.
I am pretty good at filling my emotional tank. I know when to chill, when to sit in a cafe and read a magazine, to pull up the drawbridge and hunker down, to call a friend for a catch up. But...
Now I am wondering about a tune-up in another realm - stress management. I have never been much of a stress-head, sure I can get fired up about stuff, no mistake - but I don't usually hang on to things. The norm has been that when I leave the office, things I have been gnawing at are usually forgotten pretty quickly.
This season of my life is 'learning curve rich' (ahem) - which I have found quite, well, stressful. Some days this has motivated me to do more, grasp new concepts and rise to the challenges. Sometimes I've been left in tears, wakeful and churning in the wee small hours and basically frickin' discouraged and overwhelmed!
Being in that headspace makes it really tough to remember the successes I have had - this week for some reason that's been especially tough.
BUT I am determined to try and find a way to work it out, because to walk away from the frustration I feel in handling stress would be a really stupid, shortsighted move!
Stress management 101, enrolments now open. Anyone want to sign up or even better offer me some tips?
Serenity now!
A x
Saturday 11 August 2012
Word Shelter
This morning I want to take refuge in words - words are my talismans, they help me unravel what I'm thinking and feeling. Words somehow magically have the power to comfort and calm me - this morning I want to hug my Famous Five hardbacks and revisit the carefree nature of being a kid lost in literature. Maybe if I head out to the bottom of the garden and keep walking, I'll come across Silky and Moonface. Thank you Enid Blyton!
Decades after reading those books, what they evoke in my memory and imagination is still so strong. Kind of amazing.
'Netherfield Park is let at last.' Ahhh, that's better.Thanks Jane.
When I feel stressed and misunderstood, this is where I ground myself - in language*, whether that's by writing, reading a book, magazine or blog, listening to great lyrics in some favourite tunes, watching the punchy prose of Sorkin et al tumble from the mouths of talented actors - as long as there are words, I'll be okay. (I really like talking with words too, but I look and feel less like a crazy lady if I blog rather than converse with myself!)
This week I cried inappropriately in the street. The reason for the tears is immaterial here (this isn't a private diary locked in my bedside table, no matter how few people ever read it), but what was great that someone listened to me ramble my way through why I was so wound up that my body flicked the auto pilot emergency release valve and left me crying against a cold tiled wall.
As the tears subsided and the words came out, I felt better. Not because speaking the words did anything to solve the problem, but speaking the words, and having someone hear them and sympathise with the slightly crazed girl crying in the street, helped me back towards equilibrium.
So what's the point of yet another entry into this blog that literally may only be seen by two or four or six eyes? I'm not sure really, but the act of writing helps me get my head straight - okay, straighter.
I don't want to be someone who carries crap around inside - well, any more than I'm already carrying. And if that means I have to suffer the indignity of crying in the street, or the car, or on a beach in Queensland (true story), then so be it.
Have you cried anywhere inappropriate? Lately - or ever? Let me know if you have, maybe I won't feel like such an epic doofus!
Thank you words, I would be lost without you.
Now, lashings of ginger beer for everyone!
*No words were injured in the writing of this post.
Decades after reading those books, what they evoke in my memory and imagination is still so strong. Kind of amazing.
'Netherfield Park is let at last.' Ahhh, that's better.Thanks Jane.
When I feel stressed and misunderstood, this is where I ground myself - in language*, whether that's by writing, reading a book, magazine or blog, listening to great lyrics in some favourite tunes, watching the punchy prose of Sorkin et al tumble from the mouths of talented actors - as long as there are words, I'll be okay. (I really like talking with words too, but I look and feel less like a crazy lady if I blog rather than converse with myself!)
This week I cried inappropriately in the street. The reason for the tears is immaterial here (this isn't a private diary locked in my bedside table, no matter how few people ever read it), but what was great that someone listened to me ramble my way through why I was so wound up that my body flicked the auto pilot emergency release valve and left me crying against a cold tiled wall.
As the tears subsided and the words came out, I felt better. Not because speaking the words did anything to solve the problem, but speaking the words, and having someone hear them and sympathise with the slightly crazed girl crying in the street, helped me back towards equilibrium.
So what's the point of yet another entry into this blog that literally may only be seen by two or four or six eyes? I'm not sure really, but the act of writing helps me get my head straight - okay, straighter.
I don't want to be someone who carries crap around inside - well, any more than I'm already carrying. And if that means I have to suffer the indignity of crying in the street, or the car, or on a beach in Queensland (true story), then so be it.
Have you cried anywhere inappropriate? Lately - or ever? Let me know if you have, maybe I won't feel like such an epic doofus!
Thank you words, I would be lost without you.
Now, lashings of ginger beer for everyone!
*No words were injured in the writing of this post.
Sunday 5 August 2012
Sunday - day of rest!
So today I didn't go to work - a pleasant change after a massive end to the week - a crazy Thursday and Friday, put in extra hours, then was at a photo shoot yesterday and had a very busy weekend at a two day photo shoot last weekend.
This is my new life - hectic, fulfilling, stressful, rewarding and challenging. It is great to kick back today and do not much except watch the Olympics, catch up on MasterChef All Stars and cook.
It took a while this morning to let go of thoughts about work and give myself permission to rest. I am glad I did though! We all need balance and I am usually the first to trumpet kicking back and leaving work behind once you walk out the door. What's great now is that I care enough to be thinking about work at all kinds of odd hours. I can't let it dominate my inner life though. I need to protect my sanctuary here at home.
So Sunday night is here already. There is a chicken pie in the oven, should be super tasty. And then tomorrow, back into the fray!
This is my new life - hectic, fulfilling, stressful, rewarding and challenging. It is great to kick back today and do not much except watch the Olympics, catch up on MasterChef All Stars and cook.
It took a while this morning to let go of thoughts about work and give myself permission to rest. I am glad I did though! We all need balance and I am usually the first to trumpet kicking back and leaving work behind once you walk out the door. What's great now is that I care enough to be thinking about work at all kinds of odd hours. I can't let it dominate my inner life though. I need to protect my sanctuary here at home.
So Sunday night is here already. There is a chicken pie in the oven, should be super tasty. And then tomorrow, back into the fray!
Wednesday 23 May 2012
New job, new outlook, new post
Hello,
It's the slackest 'blogger' ever, me. Remember me, I've posted a bunch of stuff sparodically since the start of the year, made sweeping statements about posting daily (who was I trying to fool?) and have been off air for months now.... nah, I don't either : )
I have exciting news - I have a new, fabulous job! What's fabulous about it? Well it isn't the swanky offices, I actually work in a windowless room - it is the people, the attitude, the potential I see there that has me all 'hot and bothered' (metaphorically speaking) about being a worker bee in a small business.
It isn't that we're on the cutting edge of a cure for cancer or a way to save the whales, the forests, and the earth (all things worth saving!), nope, that's not it either - basically we're in the rag trade, albiet with a swimmingly sporty twist.
What I love about it is that the admin skills I've honed over the past 25+ years - an organised mind, eagle eye for detail, passion for orderliness and deadlines being met, the ability to think outside the square, speak my mind, type like the wind, challenge the status quo, offer support, and engage with people in my patented 'charm and disarm' style is WELCOMED and embraced and enjoyed and celebrated!
I love it. I was saying to my boss today how much I'm enjoying the job, how happy I am to be the girl answering the phone who has potential to contribute a truckload to the company's growth and ethos and how good it is to feel that I'm working for people who actually want more than a phone answering drongo.
YIPPEEE...........
So I'm a bit happy and I decided to share that happiness here. Perhaps nobody will read it, but that won't diminish my joy at being in a job that motivates me to do much more than 9 - 5.
Nettie x
It's the slackest 'blogger' ever, me. Remember me, I've posted a bunch of stuff sparodically since the start of the year, made sweeping statements about posting daily (who was I trying to fool?) and have been off air for months now.... nah, I don't either : )
I have exciting news - I have a new, fabulous job! What's fabulous about it? Well it isn't the swanky offices, I actually work in a windowless room - it is the people, the attitude, the potential I see there that has me all 'hot and bothered' (metaphorically speaking) about being a worker bee in a small business.
It isn't that we're on the cutting edge of a cure for cancer or a way to save the whales, the forests, and the earth (all things worth saving!), nope, that's not it either - basically we're in the rag trade, albiet with a swimmingly sporty twist.
What I love about it is that the admin skills I've honed over the past 25+ years - an organised mind, eagle eye for detail, passion for orderliness and deadlines being met, the ability to think outside the square, speak my mind, type like the wind, challenge the status quo, offer support, and engage with people in my patented 'charm and disarm' style is WELCOMED and embraced and enjoyed and celebrated!
I love it. I was saying to my boss today how much I'm enjoying the job, how happy I am to be the girl answering the phone who has potential to contribute a truckload to the company's growth and ethos and how good it is to feel that I'm working for people who actually want more than a phone answering drongo.
YIPPEEE...........
So I'm a bit happy and I decided to share that happiness here. Perhaps nobody will read it, but that won't diminish my joy at being in a job that motivates me to do much more than 9 - 5.
Nettie x
Thursday 8 March 2012
Just let it marinate.... hard to do in an instant world
Hey there,
See, I'm hopeless at the discipline of writing... but as a wise friend, with impeccably white tennis shoes, once encouraged me (thanks Duncan Mok) that I should write when I feel like I've got something to say, however often that happens - or not.
Last week I tried to write something about the Australian Senate's inquiry into forced adoption's final report (geez, that's catchy) but I couldn't - it was too fresh, too horrifying, too... new. I hadn't let it marinate.
That got me thinking about how hard it is just to do ONE THING - even now, you're probably reading this at work, with something else on your screen, or with the TV on, or on your phone on the train... or something else going on. Heck, the tv is on right now, while I'm writing.
So anyway, I'm not sure that I have any half formed thoughts about the Senate report into forced adoption just yet, but I am not the angry (there's an understatement), flustered, horrified, sad, ashamed (for the process) girl I was last week. At least, they aren't my uppermost reactions.
I could hardly breathe when I first read some of that report, let alone commit my initial responses to a blog. In fact, the report's currently out of sight in my trusty IKEA ottoman.
If you want to check it out, you can find it here Senate report into forced adoption February 2012
The point? Maybe there isn't one yet - and that's okay. Things take time, and even though 48 hours ago nobody knew what the heck Kony 2012 was and now everyone seems to - the problem isn't solved and won't be in the next 24 hours, days or weeks.
I do want to post about my responses to the report. I think I am uniquely positioned to respond to it, and I also think that my responses could be insightful, even helpful, to those of you who know someone who's adopted, or have some kind of connection to this 'social policy' that was so prevalent in our not-too-distant past. And I definitely think that processing my responses here will help me wade through how I feel.
Not yet though, I'm still marinating.
Cheers,
Annette
See, I'm hopeless at the discipline of writing... but as a wise friend, with impeccably white tennis shoes, once encouraged me (thanks Duncan Mok) that I should write when I feel like I've got something to say, however often that happens - or not.
Last week I tried to write something about the Australian Senate's inquiry into forced adoption's final report (geez, that's catchy) but I couldn't - it was too fresh, too horrifying, too... new. I hadn't let it marinate.
That got me thinking about how hard it is just to do ONE THING - even now, you're probably reading this at work, with something else on your screen, or with the TV on, or on your phone on the train... or something else going on. Heck, the tv is on right now, while I'm writing.
So anyway, I'm not sure that I have any half formed thoughts about the Senate report into forced adoption just yet, but I am not the angry (there's an understatement), flustered, horrified, sad, ashamed (for the process) girl I was last week. At least, they aren't my uppermost reactions.
I could hardly breathe when I first read some of that report, let alone commit my initial responses to a blog. In fact, the report's currently out of sight in my trusty IKEA ottoman.
If you want to check it out, you can find it here Senate report into forced adoption February 2012
The point? Maybe there isn't one yet - and that's okay. Things take time, and even though 48 hours ago nobody knew what the heck Kony 2012 was and now everyone seems to - the problem isn't solved and won't be in the next 24 hours, days or weeks.
I do want to post about my responses to the report. I think I am uniquely positioned to respond to it, and I also think that my responses could be insightful, even helpful, to those of you who know someone who's adopted, or have some kind of connection to this 'social policy' that was so prevalent in our not-too-distant past. And I definitely think that processing my responses here will help me wade through how I feel.
Not yet though, I'm still marinating.
Cheers,
Annette
Friday 13 January 2012
Beauty in brokenness
Tonight I'm reminded how much fragility we have just beneath the surface. Sometimes we're aware of it, other times we're blissfully (or not) ignorant of it.
Lately I've been watching a couple of shows on Foxtel that I'm deeply moved by (I know, TV right?) - about addicts struggling with their recovery and about a father and daughter trying to reconcile their relationship after decades of mistrust and separation.
The full range of human frailty is laid bare - wreckless confidence, denial, despair, anger, love, the deep wounds and bruises from childhood, hope, mistrust, the bonds formed by people in the lifeboat together, the power of the mind in helping or hindering someone's recovery.... it's probably 'reality tv' to some, mere entertainment, particularly when the people struggling are those a lot of society (stupidly) holds up as those who 'have it all' because they are, or were once, famous or notorious.
But before we fold our arms and declare them losers, idiots, whatever - it pays to remember that we are all, just one breath, one bad decision, away from ending up in entirely the same predicament. Perhaps not as addicts, but as people facing their fragility, dealing with the broken pieces that we've maybe managed to keep hidden or crazy-glued together for a season.... I think, eventually, we all come undone (to differing degrees).
How we come back from that is as mysterious as it is unique to each of us. I once held incredibly strong beliefs about how a formula of A + B + C always equalled healing. I don't believe those things anymore, but my belief in healing hasn't gone out with the bathwater. No way.
What I think I will always believe, is that recovery from addiction or selfishness or wounds that nobody but those closest to us know about, or whatever plagues us - is that it is impossible to recover in isolation.
We need others. You do, I do. We NEED others.
And we need ourselves, to know ourselves deeply, and with compassion.
As much as that sometimes drives me to the brink, as someone who is often too proud to ask for help (an issue not helped by the nature of my wounds) it is absolutely inconceivable to me that any person can become whole or even begin that process without somebody's arms to fall into when they have nothing left in the tank.
My deepest hope is that every person has someone they can call on in those times. They may be someone in your life for just that season, a complete stranger, or someone you have the gift of long term relationship with. They may be the person you least expect, or want, to come undone in the presence of.
And somehow, in what I can only describe as a profound and utterly mysterious process, there is beauty in that broken place. True beauty. The act of allowing yourself to be embraced by another human being, who is also frail, imperfect, likely to misunderstand or hurt you - that's courageous.
Anyone who is willing to reach out for that kind of help deserves immense respect and admiration.
So, though this may seem a 'heavy' entry, I write from a place of being deeply moved by the intense beauty I see in the midst of the messiness of dealing with our human frailty.
Sitting with people who acknowledge their frailties, whether that's an AA or recovery group, an intimate group of friends willing to unmask themselves (how rare), a counsellor's office, in a family, wherever that freedom is found - that's a place where you and I should take off our shoes - that is what I call holy ground.
Do you see the potential for beauty in your brokenness? I hope so.
Lately I've been watching a couple of shows on Foxtel that I'm deeply moved by (I know, TV right?) - about addicts struggling with their recovery and about a father and daughter trying to reconcile their relationship after decades of mistrust and separation.
The full range of human frailty is laid bare - wreckless confidence, denial, despair, anger, love, the deep wounds and bruises from childhood, hope, mistrust, the bonds formed by people in the lifeboat together, the power of the mind in helping or hindering someone's recovery.... it's probably 'reality tv' to some, mere entertainment, particularly when the people struggling are those a lot of society (stupidly) holds up as those who 'have it all' because they are, or were once, famous or notorious.
But before we fold our arms and declare them losers, idiots, whatever - it pays to remember that we are all, just one breath, one bad decision, away from ending up in entirely the same predicament. Perhaps not as addicts, but as people facing their fragility, dealing with the broken pieces that we've maybe managed to keep hidden or crazy-glued together for a season.... I think, eventually, we all come undone (to differing degrees).
How we come back from that is as mysterious as it is unique to each of us. I once held incredibly strong beliefs about how a formula of A + B + C always equalled healing. I don't believe those things anymore, but my belief in healing hasn't gone out with the bathwater. No way.
What I think I will always believe, is that recovery from addiction or selfishness or wounds that nobody but those closest to us know about, or whatever plagues us - is that it is impossible to recover in isolation.
We need others. You do, I do. We NEED others.
And we need ourselves, to know ourselves deeply, and with compassion.
As much as that sometimes drives me to the brink, as someone who is often too proud to ask for help (an issue not helped by the nature of my wounds) it is absolutely inconceivable to me that any person can become whole or even begin that process without somebody's arms to fall into when they have nothing left in the tank.
My deepest hope is that every person has someone they can call on in those times. They may be someone in your life for just that season, a complete stranger, or someone you have the gift of long term relationship with. They may be the person you least expect, or want, to come undone in the presence of.
And somehow, in what I can only describe as a profound and utterly mysterious process, there is beauty in that broken place. True beauty. The act of allowing yourself to be embraced by another human being, who is also frail, imperfect, likely to misunderstand or hurt you - that's courageous.
Anyone who is willing to reach out for that kind of help deserves immense respect and admiration.
So, though this may seem a 'heavy' entry, I write from a place of being deeply moved by the intense beauty I see in the midst of the messiness of dealing with our human frailty.
Sitting with people who acknowledge their frailties, whether that's an AA or recovery group, an intimate group of friends willing to unmask themselves (how rare), a counsellor's office, in a family, wherever that freedom is found - that's a place where you and I should take off our shoes - that is what I call holy ground.
Do you see the potential for beauty in your brokenness? I hope so.
Thursday 5 January 2012
Today's challenger....
Today I'm feeling challenged by a sometimes problematic quality I possess - my pride.
I reckon if I took a step I truly DO NOT want to take, it may have a positive outcome for me. Then again, it might blow up in my face or have absolutely no positive impact. (It would certainly have a good outcome for me internally, but that isn't enough to make me do it thus far.) The act of wilfully humbling myself is one I have yet to perfect. I really hope I'm not alone in that.
I've been trying to just ignore that little niggle: Goes a bit like this:
Psst, psst hey you, prideful bozo that you sometimes can be, just suck it up and take that step.
Me: Gosh, it's a nice day, I should do some laundry or watch another 4 hours of TV.
PSST, you there, girl that hates to admit she handled something badly, maybe re-assess that situation.
Me: Um, hello, would you mind BUGGERING OFF! No way Jose!
And so it goes, back and forth, increasingly annoyingly.
In a way, I almost hate to admit I was wrong more than I hate being wrong in the first place. Not to myself, that I can swallow (bitter pill that it is), it's just when that requires letting someone else in on my faux pas, ugh, system failure. And when I don't like the person, don't expect them to respond graciously, quadruple ugh, total system self-destruct immminent.
The most annoying thing is that if the little voice speaks up in the midst of a meltdown, I can usually summon the will to make a U-turn and apologise. I actually like it when this happens, as it proves the heart of stone I sometimes possess is not a forgone state of being. I quite like peace with others.
But when my pride manages to keep that little voice quiet initially, and allows the sting of the situation to fade, when it has grown a scab and sunk to the bottom of my consciousness, that's a different thing. Oh, and if I feel 'justified' watch out!
Not sure what I'll do yet. Just wanted to register the inner dialogue. One of the problems with having a genuine desire to be somewhat self-aware is that you can't avoid the bad stuff that lives alongside the good.
Bugger.
I reckon if I took a step I truly DO NOT want to take, it may have a positive outcome for me. Then again, it might blow up in my face or have absolutely no positive impact. (It would certainly have a good outcome for me internally, but that isn't enough to make me do it thus far.) The act of wilfully humbling myself is one I have yet to perfect. I really hope I'm not alone in that.
I've been trying to just ignore that little niggle: Goes a bit like this:
Psst, psst hey you, prideful bozo that you sometimes can be, just suck it up and take that step.
Me: Gosh, it's a nice day, I should do some laundry or watch another 4 hours of TV.
PSST, you there, girl that hates to admit she handled something badly, maybe re-assess that situation.
Me: Um, hello, would you mind BUGGERING OFF! No way Jose!
And so it goes, back and forth, increasingly annoyingly.
In a way, I almost hate to admit I was wrong more than I hate being wrong in the first place. Not to myself, that I can swallow (bitter pill that it is), it's just when that requires letting someone else in on my faux pas, ugh, system failure. And when I don't like the person, don't expect them to respond graciously, quadruple ugh, total system self-destruct immminent.
The most annoying thing is that if the little voice speaks up in the midst of a meltdown, I can usually summon the will to make a U-turn and apologise. I actually like it when this happens, as it proves the heart of stone I sometimes possess is not a forgone state of being. I quite like peace with others.
But when my pride manages to keep that little voice quiet initially, and allows the sting of the situation to fade, when it has grown a scab and sunk to the bottom of my consciousness, that's a different thing. Oh, and if I feel 'justified' watch out!
Not sure what I'll do yet. Just wanted to register the inner dialogue. One of the problems with having a genuine desire to be somewhat self-aware is that you can't avoid the bad stuff that lives alongside the good.
Bugger.
Tuesday 3 January 2012
Who are the people in your neighbourhood??
Today I'm feeling grateful for my lovely neighbours. I know it's very unusual to know, let alone like, your neighbours but I have the great fortune of living on a large block that means I have neighbours right there, yes, just down the driveway.
In the past three years or so (I'm hopeless with dates) I have had the pleasure to live next door to a gorgeous young mum and her little blonde moppet, and now next to some exceedingly lovely young women who are full of life, kindness and neighbourliness.
One of the best things about living next door to A & M was when little M would run up and down their hallway giggling like only a carefree munchkin can. The sound of her laughter coming through our shared walls always, always made me smile.
Then there was the time that A accidentally locked herself out, and M in, and we rescued her by getting her to crawl through the sliding door in their toilet (a relic from the days when the pan man would visit homes to remove people's umm 'recycling' matter).
They've moved on now, and their 'replacements' are just lovely. I've had home made meals deliverd to my doorstep when I've been feeling ill (did I mention that this paticular neighbour is a chef??) and have shared wine and belly laughs with the newest resident at our lovely spot in suburbia.
So, today I am grateful for good neighbours. Heck, even the boys next door helped me move some furniture with good humour, after I brazenly introduced myself and requested a teensy favour.
If you're feeling a bit isolated, try a smile or a wave when you're next at the letterbox and you see one of your neighbours. It could be the start of something beautiful..... street party, anyone?
A x
In the past three years or so (I'm hopeless with dates) I have had the pleasure to live next door to a gorgeous young mum and her little blonde moppet, and now next to some exceedingly lovely young women who are full of life, kindness and neighbourliness.
One of the best things about living next door to A & M was when little M would run up and down their hallway giggling like only a carefree munchkin can. The sound of her laughter coming through our shared walls always, always made me smile.
Then there was the time that A accidentally locked herself out, and M in, and we rescued her by getting her to crawl through the sliding door in their toilet (a relic from the days when the pan man would visit homes to remove people's umm 'recycling' matter).
They've moved on now, and their 'replacements' are just lovely. I've had home made meals deliverd to my doorstep when I've been feeling ill (did I mention that this paticular neighbour is a chef??) and have shared wine and belly laughs with the newest resident at our lovely spot in suburbia.
So, today I am grateful for good neighbours. Heck, even the boys next door helped me move some furniture with good humour, after I brazenly introduced myself and requested a teensy favour.
If you're feeling a bit isolated, try a smile or a wave when you're next at the letterbox and you see one of your neighbours. It could be the start of something beautiful..... street party, anyone?
A x
Monday 2 January 2012
"A" & "E"
Today's happiness is brought to you by the letters "A" for aircon and "E" for electricity.
Phew!
Sunday 1 January 2012
Hello 2012! C'mon get happy.
Well here we are, 2012!!
Did you stay up late revelling or go to bed early? Whatever you did, I hope you enjoyed it and didn't get yourself into trouble, the lasting kind anyway.
New years always seems to bring out the reflexologist in me - not the massage kind, the ponderous kind. I've been thinking about all these 365 day projects - or 364 for leap years - that people do, living like Oprah, the Julie/Julia project, a year of living biblically (I will read that book this year!), and I wonder if I could follow through on any kind of NYD inspired commitment???
Maybe something simple like taking time every single day to blog about something I appreciate, or have seen or am feeling good about, or am challenged by.
Could I do that? Seems really easy now - I can think of lots of things I'm grateful for. But I'm pretty sure that this year, like most, will bring days where I feel discouraged, lonely, defeated - wow, that's a downer - but you know what I mean.
We all have heard a million theories about happiness and contentment and some of us seem to spend inordinate amounts of time fretting about whether we are happy and fulfilled, or wasting money on get happy quick schemes that may or may not work.
I have an old column from Australian Table (July 2001) blu-taked to my wall. It is '50 ways to get happy'.
What kind of things are on the list? There are the usual suspects - stop complaining (brilliant in its simplicity), go outside, hang around children, and 47 other suggestions that I assume were cobbled together in a brainstorming meeting, pinched from books, wise grandmothers, reflective dads, friends and TV hosts.
So it's a 'nothing new under the sun' kind of thing, but still something that people seem to struggle with. Don't we know what happy is? Does it manifest materially or sneak up on us? No idea really, sorry!
Today I am grateful for the place where I am sitting right now, at my desk/dining table. My immediate surroundings expand my sense of gratitude - the table my laptop is on belonged to my grandmother, who had a fabulously big house that used to fascinate me as a child! The chair I'm sitting on was a bargin surprise find at a Daylesford second-hand barn (yay for Eames reproductions) and a good friend of mine managed to squeeze it and its three buddies into her car with ease. So just by sitting at this table and on this chair, I'm made happy.
It won't always be that easy, but more and more I am determined to see the glass inching past half full and actually overflowing. Not to be too simplistic about it but, bloody hell, I live in the west, even though I don't have a job I get government assistance, I can read and write and think and dance around my loungeroom and... well you get the gist of it.
So happy new year to the three people who will probably read this. I hope that you find something to feel happy about today, and tomorrow, and the next day. Drop me a line and let me know what it is.
Happily,
Annette x
Did you stay up late revelling or go to bed early? Whatever you did, I hope you enjoyed it and didn't get yourself into trouble, the lasting kind anyway.
New years always seems to bring out the reflexologist in me - not the massage kind, the ponderous kind. I've been thinking about all these 365 day projects - or 364 for leap years - that people do, living like Oprah, the Julie/Julia project, a year of living biblically (I will read that book this year!), and I wonder if I could follow through on any kind of NYD inspired commitment???
Maybe something simple like taking time every single day to blog about something I appreciate, or have seen or am feeling good about, or am challenged by.
Could I do that? Seems really easy now - I can think of lots of things I'm grateful for. But I'm pretty sure that this year, like most, will bring days where I feel discouraged, lonely, defeated - wow, that's a downer - but you know what I mean.
We all have heard a million theories about happiness and contentment and some of us seem to spend inordinate amounts of time fretting about whether we are happy and fulfilled, or wasting money on get happy quick schemes that may or may not work.
I have an old column from Australian Table (July 2001) blu-taked to my wall. It is '50 ways to get happy'.
What kind of things are on the list? There are the usual suspects - stop complaining (brilliant in its simplicity), go outside, hang around children, and 47 other suggestions that I assume were cobbled together in a brainstorming meeting, pinched from books, wise grandmothers, reflective dads, friends and TV hosts.
So it's a 'nothing new under the sun' kind of thing, but still something that people seem to struggle with. Don't we know what happy is? Does it manifest materially or sneak up on us? No idea really, sorry!
Today I am grateful for the place where I am sitting right now, at my desk/dining table. My immediate surroundings expand my sense of gratitude - the table my laptop is on belonged to my grandmother, who had a fabulously big house that used to fascinate me as a child! The chair I'm sitting on was a bargin surprise find at a Daylesford second-hand barn (yay for Eames reproductions) and a good friend of mine managed to squeeze it and its three buddies into her car with ease. So just by sitting at this table and on this chair, I'm made happy.
It won't always be that easy, but more and more I am determined to see the glass inching past half full and actually overflowing. Not to be too simplistic about it but, bloody hell, I live in the west, even though I don't have a job I get government assistance, I can read and write and think and dance around my loungeroom and... well you get the gist of it.
So happy new year to the three people who will probably read this. I hope that you find something to feel happy about today, and tomorrow, and the next day. Drop me a line and let me know what it is.
Happily,
Annette x
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