tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86980461043896815302024-03-13T14:24:41.496+10:00The Breast is History: An Intimate MemoirWriter, Bronwyn Hope, shares her stories and perspectives on life following her personal journey with breast cancer.bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-25891078059552645112017-12-31T10:17:00.001+10:002017-12-31T13:51:35.005+10:00My Life-Changing Lesson of 2017<div style="font-family: -webkit-standard; text-size-adjust: auto;">
Hot on the heels of the Year From Hell in 2016, I now look back on what was 2017 with one lesson to share. </div>
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It is the single, biggest, most powerful and life changing lesson I could share with you.</div>
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This lesson came to me as, this year, I wrestled some more with depression and dark thoughts, cogitating more deeply upon the fall out of everything breast cancer. (Did you know that, in any given year, according to BeyondBlue, around one million Australians have depression and around 2 million have anxiety?) </div>
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Perhaps the outlines of it came as I canoed around Antarctica and trudged through Argentina and Uruguay, communing with nature as I dared to go where no lone, breast-less 53 year old has dared to tread before. </div>
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It may have gained further structure as I toured through Botswana, Namibia and Cape Town in Africa, thus managing to strike off the seven continents on my bucket list.</div>
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Some of it may have been annealed as I pursued my mission - through various forms of social media - to destigmatise the truly glorious state of being that is not simply daring to fly solo - but embracing it heart and soul. (What fun!)</div>
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It may have densified as I dallied with bird photography, song writing and producing, hoop dancing, life drawing, and more forays into stand-up comedy (and, yes, I am actually funny).</div>
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It may have truly solidified as I dealt with feelings, such as loneliness, after officially 'empty nesting' - setting up my second son, Ben, in his own digs. </div>
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As the year progressed it became more and more clear.</div>
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And here it is.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">EVERYTHING THAT IS MEANT TO HAPPEN.... HAPPENS.</span></b></div>
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I don't mean this in the sense that 'things happen for a reason'. No. I simply put it to you that everything that happens to us, from the most mundane and trivial to the significant and life changing, is inevitable. </div>
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As a (these days) deeply fatalistic person, I have come to believe that for each of us, our stories are written in the stars the day we are conceived.</div>
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As that sperm hastens toward the egg, it trails behind it a narrative - <u>our</u> story - over which we have no control. That narrative is comprised not just of DNA, but of the residue of our ancestors who pass on the leftovers of all the good and evil they have wrought in their combined lifetimes. After all, do not the prophets across all religions claim that 'the sins of our fathers are visited upon their sons'? </div>
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That's why I really believe that at the glorious moment of fertilisation, there is the transfer not just of sperm to egg, but a fate comprised of the millions of thoughts, experiences, actions, interactions and so on that is our destiny.</div>
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And we are unerringly moved forward toward it... The egg, down the fallopian tube, into the womb, and after gestation, as babes out into the world.<br />
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We are wrenched thus from our mothers, the umbilical cord detached and then .... and then....<br />
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Cut loose, set forth upon uncertain tides, a rush of water, a pull and suck, pooling here, gushing there, a hurly burly of times, good and bad.</div>
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To fight appears fruitless. You can only tread water, swim or float.<br />
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My preferred approach is to 'go with the flow' or, as Buddha might have put it, to practice the wonderful thing that is <b>acceptance,</b> trusting - that good, bad or ugly - all I experience is part of a plan - the plan that forces I will never understand created for me, perhaps aeons ago.</div>
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I am not going to lie to you and tell you that plan is necessarily a good one or even a vaguely pleasant one. </div>
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Which is why acceptance is the key.</div>
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By <u>accepting</u> that any action, reaction and interaction in your day - positive or negtaive - was simply <u>meant to happen</u>, what you end up with is a deep sense of meaning (being a derivative of the word 'meant').<br />
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This is what I now call the <b>sweet mystery of life </b>and, as part of this lesson, I ask you only to trust that your life is unfolding as it was written - everything that happens and what you do as a result is meant.</div>
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It all then comes down to the art of not just accepting but <u>owning</u> your story - every glorious, horrible, uplifting, depressing, shining, shattering, glorious, pathetic, brilliant, banal, incredible, forgettable, exciting and dull minute of it.</div>
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And in the process of accepting that your story, however dire,<b> is</b> your story, I believe, like me, you will gain strength and pride in realising that you are the hero or heroine of it. Imagine that! You are a star!</div>
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And best of all, none of us knows what the end of that story might involve - it's rivetting!<br />
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The sense of excitement as you turn the next page and the next discovery, I think, is really what keeps us moving forward (as fate intends all of us to).</div>
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Perhaps this really is the essence.... of <b>Hope.</b><br />
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And on that note, here is my wish that your life next year is a page turner of the best kind - the one where in the end, perhaps good triumphs over evil, the hero achieves redemption or everyone really does live happily ever after!<br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-58646988772231153132017-09-10T08:23:00.004+10:002017-09-10T08:40:21.784+10:00Stressed is Not Best<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">What
is the cause of breast cancer? </span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">It's one of those questions that I find most
people ask. But the reality is, causality is very, very rarely linear when we
talk about cancer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Smoking,
obesity, alcohol and lack of exercise are often paraded as causes. But they're
just cookie cutter bad guys which have to be demonised for the general good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">A
fat, lazy drunk sucking on a durry is doomed to die of every disease known to
modern man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Then
there are genes. But did you know breast cancer is in fact way down the table
when it comes to what's called 'heritability'? It's a lot less likely to be an
inherited disease compared to, for example, psychiatric disorders and
diabetes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Check this out:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">And
of course, being humans, you have to also accept that however close a cause and
effect, there are no guarantees either way. Plenty of smokers don't get cancer;
non-drinkers can die of liver cancer too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I
do have one theory on the cause - or should that be <b>a</b> cause of breast cancer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Keeping
in mind that I am a charlatan behind a keyboard, my theory is that the root
cause of most diseases is actually STRESS.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Where
cancer is concerned, I believe there are some scientists who suggest that we
all carry a few dodgy cells.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Come on - with over 37 trillion of the suckers, you surely can't believe that every
single one of them is a good guy?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I
therefore personally believe - based on no medical evidence whatsoever - that
stress is the trigger that sends cells amok, leading to the duplication that
means cancer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Alcohol
is also considered a culprit right? Well, why do people drink? They've had a hard day at work; they were stuck in traffic for an hour; they're really wound up....Stress!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Obesity
is a culprit? Why do people overeat? They feel judged; they feel unloved; their mum told them they were useless. ... Stress!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Women
having babies later in life and women approaching menopause are supposed to be
at higher risk, right? Well, what is the by-product of all the seismic hormonal
changes impacting your body chemistry? Stress! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Add
in the raft of modern day stresses imposed by the hectic, competitive,
confused, challenging, conflicted world of modern women wanting to do and be it
all and somewhere in there is some of the answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Remember,
stress isn't just physical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can be
psychological, emotional, financial, social or spiritual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These days we might even add a new kind of
stress:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Identity Stress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all seem to be struggling more and more to
describe who we are and what we stand for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even political parties don't seem to know what they stand for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Arthur is Martha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Husbands are mothers, and mums wear the
pants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all seem to be having a crisis
of some kind:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a crisis of purpose; a
crisis of direction; a crisis of epic what-the-fuck proportions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">So,
it's actually the fat, lazy drunk sucking on a durry <u>but </u>who is in reality
just STRESSED STRESSED STRESSED who is truly doomed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Now
the problem with my hypothesis is, of course, that of all the possible causes,
stress is the hardest thing of all to identify.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Stress
for all of us is, really, rarely intuited. It's like a fine dust that wafts in
unseen and settles upon us in layers, compacting often very slowly until one
day it combusts into a dust tsunami.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">See
that woman shouting abuse from her speeding car window? I call STRESS... and
wonder what set her off. Is she running late for an appointment?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did her teenager shout at her this morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">See
that couple who suddenly start bickering over something petty and banal? One is
shouting and storms off? Things escalate and suddenly, he's packed his gear and
moved out? STRESS!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Financial
worries, work problems, family difficulties, screaming kids, self esteem issues,
medication regimes, aches and pains, unresolved arguments, pressing concerns,
minor grievances, a sleepless night, even unaddressed childhood traumas ... in
they waft - silent, colourless and odourless - settling upon us, layer after
layer after layer.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Until....
until....<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Stress
is all around us. But being woefully underequipped as humans we usually fail to
take preventative steps, if at all, when it is just all too late.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The
best we can do to mitigate it is to mindfully practice stress reduction knowing
that even if we can't see the dust, as sure as eggs, it's there. (Why are eggs
'sure' BTW?) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Here
are seven things that are easy to do:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
</div>
<ol>
<li><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Review your current priorities and ditch anything that is just not important. Declutter your personal agenda. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Whatever you are doing, remember to take a break.</span><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Even good stuff can be overdone.</span><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">You can in fact diet and exercise your way to
an eating disorder.</span><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> And here in Australia we recently lost an Iron Man who died suddenly. A cardiologist confirms that over-exercise can lead to scarring of the arteries. Who knew?</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Accept that the only true thing that we can control is our own reactions and
attitudes.</span><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> The desire to control every outcome in our lives is the biggest cause of stress in our lives. Try a bit of <i>que sera sera </i>and just go with the flow from time to time.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Give yourself permission to rest. Who said life had to be a competition? And who said you had to be first or the best all of the time? It's actually not such a bad life coming third or even last. Did you know the leader of the wolf pack is in fact the last animal in the pack? My sister Nicky, for example, is often arguing that it's the fat lazy slobs who actually seem to live the longest. I am thinking she might be onto something there.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Remove the word 'compare' from your vocabulary.</span><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">
</span><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">There is nothing more stressful than comparing yourself to someone else and, of course, social media doesn't help. Just go with my mantra; <i>Nothing and No-one is as they might seem. </i> Alll you need to be is the best version of you... for today. That's it!</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Accept responsibility for and own your own life - no ifs or buts. Blame of any
kind only exacerbates stress. There is nothing more freeing than being able to say: <i>This may be an ordinary kind of fucked-up life but hey, I created it and it's all mine!</i></span></li>
</ol>
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">And
most importantly:</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> 7 Breathe - deeply and often.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">What could be easier than that, eh?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #16191f; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-78776899925121887472017-06-09T20:27:00.003+10:002017-06-11T21:44:39.792+10:00We Go On<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p>Today is an exciting day.</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p>In what is turning out to be a productive year, I have managed to strike two things off my very short bucket list.</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p>One was a trip to Antarctica - a never-to-be-repeated once in a lifetime experience that will stay with me until the day I die (which hopefully isn't any time soon).</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p>The second is this. I wrote a song. It's my third one actually but... not only did I write it but I took it all the way. I have had it produced and as you will see from the nifty little download button to the right, I am hoping all my dear readers will see their way to parting with $2.50 to download it. (You can also download it from Spotify, iTunes and other streaming services).</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p>All proceeds go to Mental Health Research.</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p>Now some people who heard my own pathetic attempts to caterwaul this song were less than complimentary. In fact, the girl I work with was positively rude. My eldest son, Harry, seemed to think the song was miserable.</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p>Well it's not...</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
And the 50 ladies from the Redlands Branch of the Cancer Council would back me up there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
Because today, I unveiled the song at a presentation I made at the Redland Bay Golf Club. (Do you know the Redlands chapter of the Council - all those wonderful ladies who man all those roadside stalls, who so generously bake and sew and crochet - last year alone raised $92,000 and took out the top fundraising prize for the organisation?).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
The event was the Club's first ever Biggest Morning Tea (capably organised by the lovely young girl who runs their functions, the bubbly Chelsea Morris).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
In a nutshell, what I explained to the ladies is that - after the complete utter shit fucking bastard arsehole time I've had, I have kept going. Despite the whole saga of cancer and a double mastectomy, I have managed to still travel widely, undertake new hobbies and interests, and notch up some achievements such as my book and the commencement of my phD (most exciting!). I listed off all the major events that I marked over the past five years too: turning 50, my dad turning 80, my sons turning 21 and 18 respectively, one finishing Uni the other finishing school.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
Since 2012 as well, I kept going... literally... living at four different addresses. (You do realise that moving house is up there with death in terms of stress levels, I suppose?)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
In the meantime of course, you will all by now be well aware of all the other woeful stuff that has beset me: more cancer, the death of my dog, my broken wrist, two savage defamation actions, and of course... the end of my marriage.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><o:p>As I said today: At any point, I could have given up, but I have kept going. </o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
17 minutes later, I had my audience literally in tears as I explained the important things that I have learned from all of this: the indomitability of the human spirit; the relentlessness of life; and the way humans are in fact engineered not for failing but rising - not for suffering but celebration - and not for falling but flying,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
I have to tell you it was good stuff... even if I do say so myself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
Many ladies told me I was "inspiring" and I also received a couple of hugs from ladies with wet lashes. The local MP the lovely Matt McEachan (who I accidentallly called Mark) told me he was so inspired by my talk he felt like reciting a poem (which he did - not only is he a politician, I discovered, but a slam poetry afficionado!).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
My mission, therefore, was accomplished. A good speech is one that arouses emotions and it seems this was achieved...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
You see, I really believe it We Go On. Life goes on. Often in our misery we tend to feel as if the world stops - as if life isn't worth living - yet life is inexorable. It's everywhere. That's my point.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
So no matter how hard a time you may be having - even if you are at death's door - there is something truly enlivening and exciting about knowing that we are all part of it, this amazing and wonderful thing that is living and life. We are all in it and part of it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">LIFE IS EVERYWHERE AND HOWEVER LONG YOU MIGHT HAVE TO EXPERIENCE IT, TO
BE IN IT, TO SEIZE IT AND TO SAVOUR IT, BE ASSURED THAT EVERY SINGLE MOMENT OF
IT IS INCREDIBLY POWERFUL AND SIMPLY BURSTING WITH PROMISE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>EVERY MOMENT IS RICH WITH OPPORTUNITY….I told the ladies in All Caps, because that's how I write my speech notes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
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Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">IT IS FULL OF EVERYTHING THAT IS AROUND YOU – THIS VAST HUMANITY – WITH
ALL OF ITS HURT, ITS RAGE, ITS INCESSANT WANTS.. AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, ITS
ENDLESS, FORGIVING LOVE.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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We are all passing through it's true but in the process we all leave something behind, a piece of us that informs the whole - that whole thing that is this vast, endlessly pulsating thing that is LIFE. </div>
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It is enough to know that our hearts have beaten - for what big, brave hearts they are to have contributed to this huge and wondrously ever-expanding thing that is LIFE.<br />
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We. Go. On.</div>
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Now, if you'd like to hear the song before you choose to part with your $2.50, you can watch it here. </div>
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With thanks to Harry's lovely friend, Trent who made my video for me for a song (literally) :) Also to the wonderful singer Sarah Calderwood who loaned me her fabulous tonsils (and flute-playing skills) and producer Michael Fix (who is quite famous I'll have you know). <br />
<br />
A very special thanks too, to my good friend and fellow breast cancer survivor Mary Holdsworth who encourages me to pursue these creative whims. Mary is herself a wonderful country singer and has been there for me since day dot, providing her patient advice and counsel even as I sobbed my eyes out. </div>
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bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-88718426368473649602017-02-09T09:34:00.003+10:002017-02-09T10:10:14.816+10:00TransienceThree times a week - sun or rain - I walk the three kilometres to and from the City to attend a small but satisfying part-time job. I am among that cohort of people who is fortunate enough to have always loved what I do for a living.<br />
<br />
The walks back home are particularly useful for mulling over the minutiae of life, for sorting out the roil of thoughts that have pursued me as I've dealt with recent events.<br />
<br />
On Monday this week, my walk home was particularly useful. As I rounded the corner for the last 100 metres to my unit complex, dusk fell softly and the setting sun burnished the Brisbane River. In the last moments of the dying day, from nowhere my thoughts suddenly settled on my father.<br />
<br />
Now my Dad, Hals, is certainly one of the more interesting people you can meet - some would say eccentric. And in many ways, I am very like my father. I have has his same short temper, his same impatience with idiots, and share his interest in politics. (Dad had two brothers who were the first foreigners to be accepted into the Komintern and who were thrown out of Ceylon - according to Dad - for subversive activities).<br />
<br />
He is also a great storyteller (some would say, liar) and has been known to rip off someone else's yarns and pass them off as his own (the low point coming quite recently when, as Father Dear was holding forth I had to interject with mild outrage to tell him: 'No Dad, that happened to <b>me</b>. That's my story'. <br />
<br />
Like Dad, I am also prone to choosing random hobbies and past times on a whim, investing ridiculous amounts of money on equipment in a fit of enthusiasm then kind of sticking it in the garage and wondering what possessed me.<br />
<br />
Like my Dad, too, I am prone to accidents and, certainly of late, it has been a bit of a competition as to who has had more near death experiences. (My Dad wins: I mean, there is no way I can compete against stories of snake bites, motorcycle accidents, being run over by lorries and careening over canyons in wayward four wheel drives.)<br />
<br />
But there are ways in which I fear I struggle to be like my Dad - especially in recent times - as I do believe he sets an example. One is his ridiculous generosity. My father would literally give you the shirt off his back. He has never been particularly mercenary - although he is quite a good salesman and could sell fake sun tan to an African - and would give away all his possessions if allowed. (My sister Nicky has taken after him in this regard). It's really one of his lovely traits.<br />
<br />
More importantly, I have been working in recent months to emulate my Dad in another of his traits or rather in his beliefs. <br />
<br />
My father, you see, is a Buddhist (like many Sri Lankans) and, as he has got older, dad has really promoted his belief in disattachment. <br />
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Dad doesn't believe in holding onto anything, even life and quite frankly, his bags seem to have been packed in preparation for the Great Beyond for some time. (Life is just a transit lounge y'all).<br />
<br />
As a career Type 1 Diabetic, he's had a few close calls in recent years and I think we are all surprised that he's still here. (He is down to the wire with his nine lives, I'm telling you).<br />
<br />
But Dad's insouciance when it comes to long living is quite understandable. <br />
<br />
My father comes from a family of short-livers (if not cirottic livers), his dad, mum, sister and two brothers all GTG (Gone to God) before their 65th birthdays. The first to go was Aunty Mona died at 33, from memory. Some of my cousins too, have not fared so well. One lost her life when a land mine exploded, two years after losing her husband and two sons in the tsunami. (Yes, this shit really does happen to real people).<br />
<br />
It's no wonder my Dad is such a fan of Buddha. <br />
<br />
Buddhism teaches the inevitability of suffering given the mutability of all things. The transience of life is held as an ineluctable fact. And it is an absolute truth that the only way to deal with the inevitability of that slippage, is learning to let go (something op shop owners rely on).<br />
<br />
In accepting that holding on is fruitless, we learn to appreciate the fragility of everything we know and have.<br />
<br />
And from this comes a literally wonderful realisation.<br />
<br />
Accepting the inevitability of loss teaches us that life is temporary and passing and in this we can reclaim our ability to really appreciate this moment and all that it might. Instead of looking ahead to what comes next ,we regain the ability to focus on what is happening right now (the state of mindfulness).<br />
<br />
From this, most importantly we can reclaim our sense of wonder. By appreciating what we have now, we can reposition losing and loss not as unpleasant or hurtful, but as reminders that something amazing and brilliant once existed. <br />
<br />
Pain and suffering, while creating discomfort. also remind us of the inevitability of the transience of life and, in seizing that idea, we can look at what comes next - good or bad - with anticipation and wonder.<br />
<br />
Certainly, in my often unpleasant trip so far, while I have been by turns enraged, perplexed, confused and disoriented, it has also been enlivening.<br />
<br />
Because I look back and you see just how much I have overcome and how far I have travelled. I look back ...with wonder.<br />
<br />
And I look at what I do actually have with increased enchantment and appreciate everything that is good in my life. I appreciate what I have right here and now... with wonder.<br />
<br />
And I have come to understand that nothing we have can be held forever.<br />
<br />
In ascendance, we come to realise that life really is a balance of knowing when to hold on and when to let go.<br />
<br />
And even if you have to let go (by choice or force), you understand that what's happening is actually not loss or losing.<br />
<br />
What is happening is the End of Suffering.<br />
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And it's wonderful.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrL-2k6e6e8qM1k_Am7uQHIkQQ6OGo1HbrkR-Z5AvkCNmcjex9Z_gb_qqd6uTe_RgiW-70bK91F_cf-w1nYqxFbC3OtuCvfjILQgZouq3i6BYImOzZoza55NvznUM41SWeS1MUQPWtw6s/s1600/Balance1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrL-2k6e6e8qM1k_Am7uQHIkQQ6OGo1HbrkR-Z5AvkCNmcjex9Z_gb_qqd6uTe_RgiW-70bK91F_cf-w1nYqxFbC3OtuCvfjILQgZouq3i6BYImOzZoza55NvznUM41SWeS1MUQPWtw6s/s640/Balance1.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-91904898523780259072017-02-02T21:02:00.002+10:002017-02-02T21:20:55.568+10:00Oh What a FeelingToday I am pondering the importance of feelings, following a second session with my psychologist, Leona.<br />
<br />
It seems that the process of separation and divorce has forced me to look inside and consider the whole abject business of understanding not just what I feel, or why I feel them, but why it is perfectly okay to feel as I do.<br />
<br />
The truth is that we are all entitled to feel what we feel when and wherever we feel them. Emotions I have learned cannot be prescribed and instead, must be allowed to present themselves and to run their course, as they must.<br />
<br />
Who knew?<br />
<br />
For most of us, of course, the <u>control</u> of feelings is all part of the arduous business of getting on in the world. Whether it be for the sake of social niceties or keeping the peace or managing appearances or behaving appropriately (or within the law), there are occasions throughout each and every day when we are required or choose to hide our feelings.<br />
<br />
We go about our business with tight-faced masks, smiling when we feel like crying, pandering to whingers when we really feel like walking away from the drama, cooing niceties when what we feel like doing is screaming profanities (and you know where that fucking gets you!).<br />
<br />
Nobody wants to know if you feel happy or sad, angry or calm, fearful or brave, comforted or uncomfortable, supported or neglected, seen or invisible, worthy or worthless etc etc etc.<br />
<br />
At work, if you're doing a job, nobody asks you if you're happy about it, if it makes you feel good. Who cares? Just bloody get on with it.<br />
<br />
At a restaurant the waiter doesn't care if his rude service makes you angry or disappointed. Who cares? Pay the bloody bill and get out of here will you. Next!<br />
<br />
At home, the hubby or children don't want to hear that you've been feeling unworthy and unloved. Who the fuck cares? Serve the bloody dinner and put the kids to bed will ya. Now what's on TV.<br />
<br />
Whatever you do, don't show emotion on the bus or the train. Even if you'd really love to plant a wet one on ya fella's mouth while catching the 8 am to Mount Gravatt, for god's sake, get a room you two. PDAs. Yuck.<br />
<br />
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Let's face it, good or bad, it can be considered rude or unnecessary or unnatural or unprofessional for you to tell people exactly how you <u>feel</u>. All in all, it is ill-advised. Most people don't like it. Those damn feelings.</div>
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<br /></div>
But hiding feelings may be inevitable, the natural result of one or a combination of a number forces such as:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Cultural background where 'talking back' as a child is taboo. For instance, in many Asian cultures it is considered the height of rudeness for a child to stand up to an adult. All adults however screwed up, demented or stupid, are 'aunties' or 'uncles' to whom we as children must bow and scrape.</li>
<li>Institutionalisation where patience and subjection and peaceability are considered normative. For god's sake (literally), the amount of times I genuflected as a five-year-old.</li>
<li>Family origin where one's position in the hierarchy might disallow more fractious displays (for instance, peacemakers must never, ever, ever be war makers. Tsk).</li>
<li>Influence of religions where it is all about self-sacrifice and splaying oneself upon the burning flames in the name of God or Allah or whoever the hell there is 'up there' (making us accountable or taking us to task or holding us to ransom).</li>
<li>Working roles that mean one must hold one's tongue such as, er hem, public relations. (I'm not kidding you, I once had to endure an entire evening on a tiny boat, listening to a drunken, racist man rant and rave while I bit my tongue and smiled sweetly as if he were the charming raconteur he believed himself to be. What my feelings required was to provide a quick slap across the fellow's jowl but instead, my role required me to offer him another drink).</li>
</ul>
<div>
As it turns out, I am one of the poor unfortunate suckers to whom all of the above apply.</div>
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Today, therefore, I had an epiphany. That in fact, all of this 'keeping mum', and self sacrifice and 'knowing my place', this pathetic passivity when it has come to truly explaining how I <u>feel</u> has not exactly served me well.</div>
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As it turns out, folks, temper tantrums aside - sudden outbursts resulting from frustration or exhaustion or stress - are not quite '<u>feelings'</u>. </div>
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It seems feelings are the kind of things that actually hang around - such as love or actual seething anger or an infinite number of emotional responses we can label as we deem appropriate. </div>
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Feelings are not the occasional stanza of fortissimo prestissimo in a Prelude that might jar the listener before returning to a soothing moderato melody. </div>
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Instead, they are that consistent ostinato, the repeated phrase that permeates the music and provides the 'feel' or the actual intent and direction of the piece. (Think Pacehlbel's Canon).</div>
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Unfortunately, there is no absolute catalogue of feelings nor, indeed, a template by which we might determine what is appropriate. It appears they are slippery things that we must listen so closely for that we sometimes miss them, so overwhelmed are we by the music blaring in our ears. </div>
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But recognising our feelings in the fray of an experience is highly valuable. Knowing what you feel and why, I am told, is essential to the process of maturity, evolution, ascendance, transformation (call it what you will).</div>
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<div>
Of course, if you happen to be a two-dimensional cyborg ... or maybe a cat ... feelings are neither here nor there. Instead, one focuses on the physical world, that is, the things that can be actually seen and heard and touched. This can translate to a kind of mindless, repetitive hedonism where feelings become subordinate to the pursuit of physical pleasures. Or a predisposition to the repetition of mindless chores, the seizing of tedious, domestic routines. Or even substance abuse.</div>
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Those who shun feeling can actually lack the kind of insight that allows them to connect with others on anything but this physical plane. </div>
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<div>
Regardless, in the end, somehow, somewhere, feelings lie at the centre of how we all deal with the events in life. And getting in touch with them can be helpful to all of us, perhaps stopping us from more drastic actions (such as packing up, in a huff, and moving to Canada's Dark North ... very tempting) ...or worse...</div>
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You just have to have the insight and self-realisation to want to do it: the point at which you achieve the plane of true Emotional Intelligence.</div>
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That's why, the exercise I have been given by two psychologists now is to <u>sit with my feelings.</u></div>
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It can be quite uncomfortable to do but<i> apparently </i>this is the first stage of acknowledging that you have feelings, you're entitled to them and by god, you are going to feel them.</div>
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<div>
As a result, Leona has given me another letter to add to my mnemonic of PACED being the letter F - as in <b>Feeling </b>PACED. Each day, it seems, we must all seek to take a moment to acknowledge how we <u>feel</u> and perhaps express what we are feeling to a significant other.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
In the absence of such an other, I have been encouraged to journalise how I feel. </div>
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<div>
Right now, I'm feeling pretty good. I gained some insights today and feel like I have taken a closer step to that far off glow that is a kind of enlightenment in really understanding myself and what has transpired thus far in my tiny little life.</div>
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<div>
What about you? How do you feel today? If you know how you feel, then that is fantastic (I have learned).</div>
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<div>
Your feelings don't have to be pleasant. They don't have to be laudable. Your feelings are brought to you free of judgement. They are yours to have, hold and/or express as you wish. </div>
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Frankly, I find this quite a discovery.</div>
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And if I have made you focus a bit more closely on your <b>feelings</b> today, I hope you will make your own discovery as well.</div>
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Onward and upward.</div>
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bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-34047615510838204052017-01-29T22:23:00.002+10:002017-01-30T00:49:55.791+10:00The Greener GrassAs the days of my separation extend and I ride the rollercoaster of my emotions, I have continued to ponder the great conundrum as to why once strong relationships flounder and fail.<br />
<br />
I think as a society, we appear to have all become somewhat complacent about the whole idea of divorce and separation.<br />
<br />
Was it started by Henry VIII?<br />
<br />
According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, since 1995, there have been between 46,000 to 50,000 divorces each and every year with around 1.8 children per divorce and the median length of marriage around 12 years.<br />
<br />
The global view is even more depressing. The divorce rate (2014)in the US is 53%. In Spain, Portugal, Luxembourg, Czech Republic and Hungary the rates are around 60% while poor old Belgium has the highest rate of divorce in the world at 70%! (Conversely, the Chileans it seems make good marriage material with the official rate at 3%).<br />
<br />
Why do so many marriages fail? <br />
<br />
The list of reasons for divorce are diverse and as infinite as the imagination allows. Let's face it: the human species has one remarkable talent and that is the ability to rationalise just about anything.<br />
<br />
The fact is, if you want to find a reason to justify just about any behaviour - positive or negative - you can. Obviously, in the marriages that survive, it's the positives that are emphasised whereas, the rest.... Well, if they want a reason to call it a day, the ball of string is long.<br />
<br />
For instance, consider the woman who divorced her husband because he wasn't into the movie 'Frozen'. Or the couple who divorced because they disagreed about the proper way to eat peas. Or the Taiwanese lady who wanted 'out' the day after her wedding night as she discovered her bloke was a little short changed in the bait and tackle?<br />
<br />
In a 1997 survey the Australian Institute of Family Studies reported that 71% of Aussies blamed 'affective issues' on marital breakdown including (in order): <br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>communication problems</li>
<li>loss of connection</li>
<li>infidelity/trust issues</li>
<li>physical or emotional abuse</li>
<li>alcohol and drug abuse</li>
<li>financial problems</li>
<li>physical health or mental health issues</li>
<li>work/time pressures and finally</li>
<li>family interference.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
This is the only study of its kind that exists and, while the stats are growing a few whiskers, I'm sure they still hold water today.<br />
<br />
Yep. There are plenty of reasons why two people-in-a-gazillion randomly get together, feel some lusty thought arising in their groins, tie the knot and blah-de-blah-de-blah.<br />
<br />
Be that as it may, from my lenghty ponderings I am going to offer up what I believe to be the most common reason why so many marriage break up. And it is this and this only: the lack of effort.<br />
<br />
We simply take our significant other for granted, and eventually there comes a day when one or both begin to imagine a different world where the grass is thicker, juicier and so blindingly verdant it is seductive.<br />
<br />
We are too ready to throwaway relationships and why not?<br />
<br />
We throw just about everything else away. Everything has a use-by date, doesn't it? White goods that once lasted decades are lucky to make it past a few years. Cellphones are updated annually with people queueing for hours to ensure they are first to get the newest releases. Even camcorders are disposable. It's always about the latest and most modern. (I know one of my expanding universe of divorced friends somewhat callously described his new squeeze as 'an upgrade'.)<br />
<br />
As soon as a product smells of yesterday, out it goes, our insatiable desire to be trendy and current fuelled by the unstoppable monster of consumerism. No wonder op shops are full of unwanted possessions, many still in their wrapping. There is such an overflow of second-hand crap in fact that some charities can now afford to be choosy. <br />
<br />
The culture of throwing away rather than fixing and reusing is therefore increasingly entrenched. <br />
<br />
So when relationships start struggling, I believe, many couples just decide to chuck it in, encouraged perhaps by the catalogues of potential replacements just a click away and at their finger tips thanks to 1000s of meet-up and dating sites and applications. And not to mention poverty-stricken Asian women on the hunt for a sugar daddy. You can shop for a new partner on the go - it's bloody convenient. One touch and Mr Swipe Right can be manifested on a magic carpet, straight to your bedroom door.<br />
<br />
It's a shame, but based on my observations and experiences to date, I am simply not convinced that modern man is engineered to 'mate for life'. S/he is losing or has already lost the concept of "forever" and vows of commitment it seems, come with the caveat: 'I do... until I don't'.<br />
<br />
We have lost the ability to stick at things, ruined by the world of instant gratification in which we live where anything that takes time, work and patience is discarded.<br />
<br />
It doesn't help that Hollywood feeds us on a diet on impossible romances where, for instance, corporate lawyers (Tea Leone) return home after a full day in the court to shag their husbands (Nicholas Cage) on the kitchen bench. <br />
<br />
We crave ideals and perfection. We are set up to fail.<br />
<br />
But <b>you can</b> turn this model on its head and there are many marriages that do. I am fortunate to know many childhood sweethearts who dote on each other so lovingly I feel like puking. (No actually, it's very sweet.)<br />
<br />
Here are seven lessons we might learn from them:<br />
<ol>
<li>Set your marriage up for success from the get-go. Do regular maintenance so you extend its use-by date. Check the oil. Inflate the tyres. </li>
<li>Do routine spot-checks (as per my previous blog and the excellent suggestion of my friend, Cath). A five year check-in may work wonders, helping couples to identify issues and to take corrective action.</li>
<li>Instead of pining for the greener grass, think about how you might improve the grass you have. Has it gone to seed? Then fertilise it. Give it some water. </li>
<li>Make your marriage a priority. Trust me, you don't want to go through divorce. It's harder than going through chemo - and that is saying something.</li>
<li>Don't be smug. You think your husband or wife said something about their feelings years ago but all of us change. Shit happens. We forget. Nurture, nurture, nurture.</li>
<li>Do a cost-benefit analysis. Think of the costs of losing your marriage versus the benefits of keeping it. As I've tried to point out in a previous blog, the costs can be extremely high, such as the loss of access to children. Whatever slight or wrong or personality defect you perceive, just how vexatious is it to tolerate or adapt to when compared to the destruction you might leave in the wake of a divorce?</li>
<li>Communicate. I know couples who go on regular 'date nights' but even these are useless without communication. Put away your smartphones and iPads. Gaze into each others eyes and speak meaningfully.</li>
</ol>
<div>
Finally, accept that we are all imperfect and therefore most relationships are, inevitably, doomed to also be imperfect.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Life is not a Hollywood movie, people. Marriage is a lot of drudgery. It can be at times exhausting, unsatisfying, boring, repetitive, predictable, unhappy, unpleasant, frustrating, challenging, difficult, destructive, distressing, disheartening and far from domestically blissful. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But with some TLC and the right attitude, you'll learn to focus on the times that were anything but - when you really felt buoyed by the simple fact of being an 'us', when you knew how to make plans together and shared a journey propelling you toward a mutual dream. When days were truly diamond, not coal. Remember how that felt?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I beg you. Don't make yours a throwaway relationship.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You, too, can be among those lucky enough to grow old together (barring sudden death of course).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Forget the statistics. Who cares about the median?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Make the effort. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Whatever the outcome, at least you know you tried. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And I'd give you marks for that. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Remember...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-27305146363915930412017-01-22T10:09:00.003+10:002017-01-22T22:45:44.202+10:00Poem 1<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Years ago, when Alan and I moved into our first home together, in Paddington, there used to be a weak and mangy mango tree that stuck out of the brick work along one boundary. I was so excited about having </span><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">this</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> tree in my backyard.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The first year we were </span><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">there, it produced a handful of mangy fruit. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "gill sans"; font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">The second year was a beauty. The tree threw out the most massive mango I have seen to this day (and I can tell you, it was up against stiff competition as my dad is a Mango farmer). I was so excited. I thought that this tree was going to keep me in mangoes for life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">Unfortunatley though, the next year, the tree produced absolutely nothing. Nada. Nil. Zilch. After that it wilted and died - I'm not even sure I noticed as I was disgusted with it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">I often thought of this tree whenever I had a fertile period. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">I wondered if I would one day have a golden season and then, like the tree, would I, too, wilt, wither and die?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "gill sans"; font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">Well as it so happens, I did have a golden season.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">In 2009 and 2010, I experienced days of such intense and wonderful creativity, it was incredible. And the proof of it was a </span><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">whole</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> stack of poems I produced. I would go to the coffee shop of a morning, pull out my notepad and out would come a verse that needed little work. I was on a roll.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And then, of course, in 2011, it all went to pot.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sadly, I haven't actually managed to write a poem ever </span><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">since other than one very bad limerick. (Any fool can rhyme 'prick' with 'dick').</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">Today I've decided to begin sharing at least some of that poetry left over from a happier and more fertile time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "gill sans";"><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">The one I have chosen today was written about a couple as a Husband speaks to his Wife who has died. I hope you enjoy it. (It made my friend Cath cry)...</span></span><br />
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<h2>
<span style="text-indent: 48px;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Of My Sly Living</span></b></span></h2>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "lucida grande";"><u>Her</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">Of my sly living I’ll speak but only after I am gone,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">and then you’ll know it solely in the vestiges</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'big caslon'; text-indent: 36pt;">of things I’ve left, those mere suggestions of my</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">being here at
all. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">On the bed sheets washed and folded you’ll</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'big caslon'; text-indent: 36pt;">find the rims of tears I’ve cried with gratitude for</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">
mercies small and aching for those secret needs I knew would <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">never be
achieved,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">In the mirror is concealed a corner where </span><span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">the vapors of my breathing once formed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">circles as I brushed my hair and nursed my countless worries at the</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">cruelties of time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">On </span><span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">the floors are traced the outlines of my footfalls
as I </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'big caslon'; text-indent: 36pt;">nursed our seven babies through the dawn suns,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">looking forward
with pure longing to the day I would <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">at last be
free.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">And on the couch are indents I have made where, as you
slept,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I sat alone at
night, the weight of withered dreams a load<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">that kept me tethered until I <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">finally lost
hold,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">Yet if you listen closely you will hear my joy</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">despite it all, the
echoes of each sound I made <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">to indicate just
how I felt when life would bear us up <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">and bring us
down. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon";">And you’ll hear
me singing out of tune while dressing up</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">
to go to town to celebrate the sixty years we’d <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">shared as man and
wife, not knowing yet how soon <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">the end would
come. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">But now I’m gone, you know you can speak to me when </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">e'er you miss me, for there I am in all the countless<br />
unseen places - in those vestiges of me <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: 'big caslon';">I’ve left
behind.</span><span style="font-family: 'big caslon';"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "lucida grande"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">HIM</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">I heard your foot steps, love, more loudly than you
knew</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">for every moment that you lived<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I inhaled as if <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">you were<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>my very air, you were my skin, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">you were my all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">With grateful heart I breathed the citrus scents</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">of all your toils
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and heard your cries palpating through the rooms <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">that stank of all
your naked need for stars<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that stayed <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">beyond your
reach</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">I watched you sometimes stare too long upon your</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'big caslon'; text-indent: 36pt;">image in the glass, smacked breathless that</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">
you could<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>not see my frank appreciation
of your timeless beauty that<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">remained<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>sublime,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">I relied upon the stronghold you kept upon our
dreams,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">as carer of our
children who justified my daily grind and<br />
were the lamps that every night would guide <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">you home to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">And when you left our bed, of course, I comprehended</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'big caslon'; text-indent: 36pt;">you were contemplating, as you were, that empty cup</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I could <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>not hope to fill; my well was sadly <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">never deep
enough.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">But through your icy disaffection I could sense your
pulse, dear love,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "big caslon";">a warm and steady
beat that anchored us, that</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon";">
certainty we so needed when crises meant our life</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon";">was difficult.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">I can hear you singing lullabies, I hear you pace the
floor,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I see your face, each move it made, as sixty years flew by <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">so fast and then,
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>so suddenly you went <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">that still I'm numb.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; text-indent: 36pt;">Your sly living, love, is not enough - I miss the warmth
of you,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "big caslon"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">for what I smell
and feel of you won’t ease<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>my<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>grief nor<br />
help me sleep for me, alone, is all</span></div>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="line number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="page number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="table of authorities"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="macro"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="toa heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
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bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-56649266676598668182017-01-21T17:08:00.001+10:002017-01-21T18:04:51.569+10:00A Well-Paced WeekAs the process of separation commences, and as my solicitor has advised me to ensure I have the support of a counsellor, last week I set off for what will be the first of 10 sessions with a psychologist as these are covered by Medicare.<br />
<br />
Arriving at a smart establishment and greeted by an urbane young man, I was soon ensconced in a tiny space (including a couch) with a young lady, Leona, who looked like she was barely out of school. Mind you, she was of some Asian extraction and may have been 120 for all I know.<br />
<br />
(While initially I was a bit bothered about her youthfulness - what would she know about suffering? - I later reconciled myself to the idea that perhaps, the younger counsellors would have less of a tendency to 'project' their own sorry stories, biases and prejudices onto their clients? I know there are a few man-haters who fancy themselves as marriage counsellors, for example - not exactly helpful!).<br />
<br />
Anyhooooo, as it was my first session, Leona used the opportunity simply to get to know the extent of my story. <br />
<br />
It is no secret that 2016 was a bit of a challenge for me - depression, disability, dying dogs, disturbed holiday plans, demanding work, and defamation actions being the unhappy combo they are.<br />
<br />
But what I hadn't really taken into account was just how all of these events may have resulted in an unhealthy build-up of stress, which may (or may not) account for the rather precarious patterns of my moods. <br />
<br />
Throughout this breast cancer memoir, as my regular readers will know, I have certainly not shied away from the issue of mood - and specifically Depression.<br />
<br />
Until you experience it, you really don't realise just what a kind of suffocating feeling it is.<br />
<br />
I am fortunate that, up to this point, I have managed not to succumb to any chronic condition, finding some simply strategies to help such as:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Asking for support when I need it.</li>
<li>Avoiding or minimising alcohol.</li>
<li>Focussing on getting a good night's sleep.</li>
<li>Exercising; </li>
<li>Cultivating my good friendships; </li>
<li>Seeking professional help as required;</li>
<li>Keeping a dog (or as of late, a bit of a dead dog interred in my pot plant)</li>
<li>Everyday rituals such as playing music and burning a candle; and </li>
<li>Fantasising about doing the horizontal hula with George Clooney. (Actually, I lie. I have lately been fantasising about Ryan Gosling - even if he can't sing for nuts.)</li>
</ul>
Stress, I believe, lies at the root cause of all ailments including Depression and, I daresay, what my strategies really do is <u>settle or manage the underlying conditions that <b>cause</b> stress</u>. (Conditions such as a cellulite stocktake whenstanding in the cubicle of a dress shop that has infinity mirrors - not for the faint-hearted.)<br />
<br />
Indeed, I have long believed that most, if not all, emotional reactions are in fact stress reactions. <br />
<br />
In the fast-paced, ever changing, increasingly unstable, demanding and volatile world we live in, we are all under more pressure than ever before. <br />
<br />
Social media does not help. Daily we are regaled with predictions of pending Armageddon thanks to rogue Presidents, memes extolling the evils of child slavery, dog eating, cock fighting, world poverty, plastics, pollution, paedophilia, corrupt politicians, global warming, Syria. <br />
<br />
We are bombarded with advertisements of how we should grow - grow richer, smarter, thinner, further, faster and more furious. <br />
<br />
We argue with strangers about issues we know nothing about and care even less about, all the while batting away the kind of toxic, nasty, bigoted, ignorant, judgemental, negative engagement that is hardly good for the soul. No one, it seems, is entitled to their own opinion and everyone thinks they are right! Even the most civilised opinion is booed and hissed at until it all descends to name calling. For what?<br />
<br />
Meanwhile the news media is purposely engineered to keep us in a perpetual state of unhappiness so that we are forced to consume - courses, products, services, URLs. <br />
<br />
We are all liking, sharing, following, messaging, emailing, texting, stalking, tweeting, snapping, chatting.... until we are all just FUCKING STRESSED .... and we're not even aware of it.<br />
<br />
That's why I reckon that every time you see someone yelling or crying or just shutting down, when you notice someone blowing a fuse, making a mistake or pouring another pitcher of wine to go with their Lean Cuisine or their ready-made-meal (because who's got time to cook?) it is usually a reaction to a stressor of some kind.<br />
<br />
We are expected to have perfect children, six-pack abs, perfect skin, ageless skin, plumped lips, smooth foreheads, youthful figures, colour-co ordinated homes, balanced books, big jobs, successful lives. We are not just taught but <u>encouraged to compete</u>, for ideals we will never achieve and impossible dreams that are cast as dares that only set us up for lifetimes of unproductive effort.<br />
<br />
We must keep up with the Kardashians, the Housewives of New Jersey, the obscure B-Grade stars on worn red carpets who come and go like Yesterday's Heroes. <br />
<br />
We are <b>inundated </b>with trivia we do not care about, with no relevance to our lives and which cloud up our headspace, wasting our time. We are bombarded with other's concerns in worlds so remote the people may as well be from Mars.<br />
<br />
All the while we're tracking our calories, measuring our steps, running marathons, climbing Everest. You can't even just fucking eat - you have to read the fucking label (with writing so small you need a fucking nuclear microscope to read it). Who the hell knows what difference 27 grams of sugar will make to my specific, individual longevity. Do you?<br />
<br />
In the meantime we are told we must be mindful, meditate, levitate. But even this is complicated. Yoga involves sweating like a pig in a heated hell hole. Detox routines involve sensory deprivation, expensive supplements and exotic plant matter that can only be pureed in the latest contraption purchased (for a song) off the Shopping Channel. Retreats syphon dollars. Inner peace comes at a stress-inducing cost that few can afford. The very act of <u>trying</u> to destress is stressful! We can't de-stress because we are too stressed!<br />
<br />
And so what do we do?<br />
<br />
My friends, we get into 'coping' mode, and we aren't even aware of it.<br />
<br />
We switch off. We run on automatic. We immerse ourselves in the blur. We bury ourselves in our smart phones, our iPads, our head in the iCloud - connected so we can disconnect.<br />
<br />
How to re-connect? How to be more aware? How to de-stress?<br />
<br />
Well, the thing is that what stresses me and how I need to de-stress may be quite different to you. <br />
<br />
However, I still have a theory that most (if not all) of us are stressed by an absence of positive, life-enhancing routines that are purposefully tailored to what you and I might need or want in order to reduce stress.<br />
<br />
In my life, for instance, not only do I not have a positive routine, I have a complete absence of routine given all the changes that have occurred so rapidly in my life: new working life, new living space, new marital arrangement. My whole world has been so swiftly (and might I say callously and thoughtlessly) rearranged I have been left gasping like a fish flung from its bowl.<br />
<br />
That's why Leona has suggested that I begin a methodical process <b>to</b> establish a routine. <br />
<br />
She has given me an exercise to do that I thought I would share with you.<br />
<br />
She told me to write out a detailed schedule for every day of each upcoming week. Each day was to have one of five things: <br />
<br />
<b>P</b>leasure;<br />
<b>A</b>chievement;<br />
<b>C</b>ompanionship;<br />
<b>E</b>xercise; and attention to<br />
<b>D</b>iet.<br />
<br />
(The mnemonic is mine. I pointed it out to Leona who was excited at the discovery... um... o-kay.)<br />
<br />
Today I brought myself a weekly planner and have tried to set out my week so I have a better idea of what I will do on each and every day <b>as a matter of routine</b>. <br />
<br />
By purposefully diarising activities that I know will contribute to my emotional wellness, I hope that in time, I will emerge from the other side with at least some self-esteem in tact, if nothing else!<br />
<br />
So if you are currently going through a difficult time - and it doesn't necessarily have to be anything as absolute and unpleasant as the dissolution of a long-term partnership - why not take a minute to sit down and work out just how you will spend the upcoming week.<br />
<br />
Perhaps together, you and I can work on creating a well-PACED week.<br />
<br />
And hopefully, we will eventually begin to reap the rewards.<br />
<br />
Let's do it!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-29672522779612246152017-01-18T06:01:00.002+10:002017-01-18T08:23:30.075+10:00Love IWell, it was inevitable that, in my musings upon the whole painful, gutting, bruising process of a separation and divorce, I would begin to ponder the one subject that underlies the whole story of marriage.<br />
<br />
Poets, writers, artists - we all talk about this thing called 'love'. It is a word very easily bandied about. But what does it mean?<br />
<br />
I believe I 'loved' and still 'love' my soon-to-be-former husband. But what is it? Is it really as simple as 'not ever having to say you're sorry?'<br />
<br />
It is a good indication of the vexatious issue of definition that we continually write, sing, or create artefacts around the question of what love is - because as far as I can see, it is a very snaky, amorphous and insubstantial thing.<br />
<br />
'Love' is an easy word to say but imbued with a complexity of meanings so confusing it is, frankly, no wonder that it so often ends badly.<br />
<br />
For what it's worth, here is what I - after months of studious observation - believe 'love' is.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it is the Ceylonese in me, but I believe 'love' is nothing but a transactional process where, by telepathy or 'knowing' or intuition, our rat brain deduces that the man or woman our eyes are perceiving, firstly, has <u>something to offer us.</u><br />
<br />
Because firstly and foremost, we all need to agree that love, above all, is about an exchange. <br />
<br />
Sex for money; sex for children; money for security; security for sex; children for companionship; validation for validation; friendship for money; comfort for validation; or the cheapest (and most short-lived of all), sex for sex. There are other variables and the various permutations are, most likely infinite.<br />
<br />
The difficulty is that, as relationships mature and change, the transactions vary along with it. That's because intention and expectations - and the drivers - vary as we age. <br />
<br />
In the early stages, it is a hormonal, chemical thing that drives us and, while for some this remains and perhaps even intensifies, for others life gets in the way. Other drives impose themselves such as reason or logic, everyday practicalities, the business of surviving and just getting on with it.<br />
<br />
So it is inevitable that, along the way, contracts are altered. Caveats may be inserted. Conditions may be introduced that may have not existed before.<br />
<br />
Without full communication, these variations are too easily ignored by one or both parties. There may be some sleight of hand, some twist of perception involved. <br />
<br />
The only way clarity can be achieved in this case, is through constant and habitual <b>dialogue</b>. <br />
<br />
But there is one problem. <b>Dialogue </b> is often more difficult than it appears. You think you are having 'it'. But then you discover, dialogue requires you both to be operating in the same plane. In other words, 'dialogue' is so difficult to achieve it is postponed or simply does not occur.<br />
<br />
As a result misunderstandings happen and before you know it, one has reneged on his or her contractual agreement, communication is impossible as hard feelings like blame insert themselves, and ultimately the relationship lies in flames, taking with it many irreplaceable valuables.<br />
<br />
Last night, as I edited the first of the letters that will fly between myself and my soon-to-be former husband, I was as you can imagine a little traumatised and rang my good friend, 'Jane' who is a high ranking and highly experienced clinical psychologist (I have changed her name to protect her privacy).<br />
<br />
Jane is a truly unique human being, hugely intelligent, creative and, of course, kind. And she just happens to be currently in the process of transitioning genders. <br />
<br />
She therefore inhabits a space that I find utterly fascinating at present - being both man and woman - and, as such, offers some intriguing insights into the differences between the two genders.<br />
<br />
She explained to me that as her testosterone increased, she was also dealing with an increase in libido that was so intense it was quite uncomfortable. It seems that sex is a natural driver for men (no surprises there).<br />
<br />
She told me that she was starting to react very differently to emotional situations - for example instead of feeling emotion, she felt more inclined to action. She said her empathic reflexes appeared to be changing. She was reacting differently to the innumerable tales of woe peddled by her queue of clients.<br />
<br />
As well, her thinking was sharpening and her feeling of control had increased. She appeared more confident than ever to me. <br />
<br />
What intrigued me was Jane's observation that science has now proved that the empathic reflexes in people are a reflection of their levels of progesterone and, in men, it is reflective of the original bonds they formed with their mothers. <br />
<br />
So it seems that women who might be somewhat emotionally removed from their sons are creating the kind of cyborgs that many women find themselves with. That is, women who spend more time <u>emotionally</u> connecting with their sons create more emotionally communicative sons, those who might operate more capably on the 'feeling' plane.<br />
<br />
But of course, men of a certain generation were generally not encouraged to explore this plane. There are always exceptions I know but, you have to admit, most men are not great at 'feeling' and usually have the Emotional Intelligence of a shoe.<br />
<br />
That may explain why so many of our marital contracts seem to fail. One partner operates with intense and often blinding feeling while the other? Well it's just a bit of la-la-la and pass me the hammer.<br />
<br />
My friend Cath (who left her own marriage many moons ago) had one great suggestion that may assist in ensuring this does not occur. She said that all couples should consider a formal process of 'checking in' (perhaps via a counsellor if the level of dialogue is really crap) every five years in their relationship just so they can track where they are. <br />
<br />
A regular and routine marital inspection and service might allow closer consideration of the original contract. Is it still binding? What little caveats have snuck in?<br />
<br />
Overall, I think we all probably take our contracts too lightly and we allow or tolerate the wrong assumptions and poor information that are so often behind breakdowns. <br />
<br />
I guess that's the downside of faith and trust. They are noble qualities but really, in the end, what they do is cloud judgement, particularly for women who primarily function on an emotional (feeling) plane while men operate on an action (doing) plan (as Jane has pointed out).<br />
<br />
As a result, it is commonly unlikely that marital contracts are read and understood in the same way. And once variations occur - time and age being what they are - it is inevitable that one or the other might actually be blindsided by what unfolds.<br />
<br />
It is too late for me and the former man of my life. But for many who may be reading this, it is not too late for you.<br />
<br />
If you haven't done so, if you are still married, I strongly encourage you to have a good look at your marital contract. Is it what you think it is? What are the expectations?<br />
<br />
Has your contract gone unconditional? Is it water tight? And if not, why not?<br />
<br />
With just a bit of dialogue, you could preserve the most precious relationship in your universe.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, now that I have considered this dichotomy of 'feeling' beings cohabiting with 'doing' beings, I have come to the conclusion that the happiest and most enduring relationships are in fact the ones where couples have achieved the ultimate state...<br />
<br />
... The state of simply 'being'. <br />
<br />
He does, she feels and together they simply 'are' with the ultimate exchange that of the 'self'.'<br />
<br />
That, my friends, is what true love and a happy marriage looks like to me.<br />
<br />
If you're there, I applaud you. And if not? Get cracking with that dialogue.<br />
<br />
It will be worth it. I promise.<br />
<br />
<div>
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-47802770595642284132017-01-16T22:21:00.002+10:002017-01-17T17:22:53.471+10:00Being AloneI have just returned from the pool at QUT where, after work, I completed my usual 20 laps. As I freestyled up and down that black line, I allowed myself to consider this whole business of being alone.<br />
<br />
I realised just how many individual activities I enjoy. And how it is really an uncomplicated business nowadays when it comes to how I spend my time.<br />
<br />
Just before Christmas, as my Facebook friends will know, I completed a seven week solo adventure travelling to seven countries, mostly non-English speaking. The previous year I went to Eastern Europe, again solo, visiting three countries including Poland. ("Why Poland?" I was asked a hundred times, especially by Poles. To which I would usually think: "Who the fuck knows. It just seemed like a good idea at the time").<br />
<br />
I have simply become used to the idea of seizing life on my own.<br />
<br />
Most people who are happily coupled, of course, cannot understand how anyone could travel alone. My mum says it would be "boring". Mostly I am told it would be "lonely".<br />
<br />
There is one important thing to remember though: <b>being alone</b> is not the same as<em> </em><strong>being lonely.</strong> <em> </em><br />
<br />
The differentiating factor in the semantics is, I believe, this thing called intention. One state, being <b>alone,</b> implies a state achieved by choice, where you willingly eschew human company. Being <b>lonely</b>, on the other hand, implies the exact opposite - those who want company, who often desire it deeply and who find that, against their will, they have no access to the human interaction they might crave. <br />
<br />
It is actually quite amazing what a simple shift in the perception of meaning will achieve.<br />
<br />
Catapulted suddenly and screaming into the world of singledom, many impacted by separation or divorce inevitably fear <b>being lonely. </b><br />
<br />
However I have discovered that, once you<u> accept</u> that all you are experiencing is the feeling of <b>being alone,</b> then you start to believe that you actually have control over the situation. Voila. No more lonely nights.<br />
<b><br /></b>
Therefore, these days, I can't say I actually know what it is like to feel <b>lonely</b>, when I am actually <b>alone.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
This is achieved by making active, conscious choices about the way in which I occupy the physical space that might be free of company (faithful hound, cat, goldfish or exotic ferret notwithstanding).<br />
<br />
Some strategies include:<br />
<ul>
<li>Calling or messaging a friend for a chat (I'm lucky, I admit to a) havinv quite a few and b) liking to talk... and talk..... </li>
<li>Filling the moment with an individual activity that brings me pleasure (such as swimming, or reading, sketching a picture, going for a walk, or writing this blog)</li>
<li>Doing something useful that only I can do such as cooking a special meal or finishing a chore.</li>
<li>Planning something to look forward to (not always involving other people).</li>
<li>Learning something new.</li>
</ul>
<div>
There are countless ways in which single people adjust to the state of <b>being alone</b> and I can tell you, it is a state that those who cannot escape from spouses or children - that stinking press of needy people making demands on your space - can envy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Because ultimately, in seizing and owning the wonderful stage of being alone, I know that every single moment in this life of mine belongs to me, and I can do with it exactly what I please. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My moments are my responsibility and, by actively and consciously modelling them into the shape I choose, moments become hours then days that reflect my intention. Before you know it, my life looks and feels like it is my own. It's very empowering.</div>
<br />
So, next time you think about all those poor, tragic single people you know, don't feel sorry for them. Not for a moment.<br />
<br />
Can you lie naked on your bed while brazenly thumbing through a Mills and Boon? (Not that I would but I could!)<br />
Can you eat chocolate for dinner polished off with a bottle of scotch? (Okay, I made that up too. I meant half a bottle of scotch).<br />
Can you play Harry Belafonte at full blast, without fear of judgement? (Or, the other 'great', Nana Mouskourri).<br />
<br />
No, I didn't think so.<br />
<br />
What is more, all of us should keep in mind that, in reality, <b>being alone</b> is, for the vast majority of us, our <u>natural state.</u> Because unless your mother had a multiple birth, we all came into this world <b>alone</b>. We broke through the membrane of that egg <b>alone </b>and when we started that process of fertilisation that brought us into being, there wasn't some other sperm holding our hand now was there? <br />
<br />
And, let's face it, the only context in which we experience the notion of coming first is <b>alone</b>. The concept of winning in fact, generally, requires you to cross the finish line alone. How about that? Those of us who are doing this thing called living <b>alone</b> are actually winners.<br />
<br />
Look, I am not suggesting it is always easy, and, it is likely if you are reading this after having discovered the person you loved and most trusted has run off with the Avon lady or the Avon man, or maybe the Avon lady-man (named Kamahl) you are not exactly feeling like a 'winner' and you are thinking that I should STFU.<br />
<br />
However, if you are a person who has suddenly found yourself <b>being alone </b>you must understand that there is <u>no universal law</u> that means you must also <b>feel lonely</b>. <br />
<br />
The perception that you are somehow poorer because you are now <b>alone</b> is a societal construct. It is an enforced expectation, imposed by others, and you can choose to completely reject it. You can. <br />
<br />
Instead consider that you are now the most powerful person in your own universe. Even if you currently believe it is a bleak and parlous universe, it is <u>yours</u> and yours to control as best your resources allow.<br />
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You have the ability to make of this moment exactly what you will of it.<br />
<br />
You are driving your own bus. You can take anyone you want on board and you can drive it anywhere. The destination is your choice! Imagine that?<br />
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Please don't just leave it in the parking lot while you sob miserably over the steering wheel, possibly steaming up the windows while you hyperventilate. That's not going to get you anywhere.<br />
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Instead, turn that key. Rev that motor. Put that motherfucker into gear and come on!<br />
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Let's go! I can't wait to see where we end up. <br />
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It may be hell (or worse, Gympie!) for all I know but hey, at least I'm driving. :)<br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-78401070786740917482017-01-14T21:47:00.002+10:002017-01-15T01:15:16.228+10:00Rowing my own boatSome eight months since an operation on my wrist, broken after a fall (poetically, and in slow motion of course) off a horse, today I finally returned to an important activity in my life - rowing.<br />
<br />
Rising at 4.30 am (a late start compared to some rowers), I headed off to 'the shed' at Brisbane GPS Rowing Club with some trepidation. Rowing is a technically difficult sport. You need strength, co-ordination and concentration. How would I fare?<br />
<br />
After a warm welcome back by my many rowing buddies, soon I found myself in a 'single', being pushed off from the pontoon while I braved a slightly choppy Brisbane River. (I was crapping myself as I didn't want to fall in thanks to recent news of increased bull-shark activity).<br />
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As I wobbled my way through the initial crossing, my healthy right hand clearly favouring my wounded left, I pondered the correlations between my favourite sport and life.<br />
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Being in a 'single' is certainly a metaphor for my current situation. <br />
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It's a craft that is difficult to navigate without practice and experience. It is arguably one of most challenging of the configurations. In a single, every element of the rower's stroke must be well executed as otherwise, it can be very uncomfortable... and wet! <br />
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There is certainly a deep self awareness you achieve as your brain processes the many tiny movements that are required to achieve a 'perfect' stroke.<br />
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When embarking on a journey in a single after some time away from it, the waters can seem particularly challenging. You wonder if you an remember how to 'do' this. But after a while, with practice, when you realise it's all coming back to you, you wonder what you were worrying about.<br />
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The best bit is the smooth water you encounter when you travel down river. You seem to move effortlessly. You almost feel like a pro. It's sweet and you remember why you love it: this single life.<br />
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It's very different from the double life. When two people are in a boat, co-ordination and communication are everything. Two must work in harmony in order to tango. Roles are assigned and must be respected: the lead is the stroke; the bow must navigate, shouting orders to align your vessel correctly. In the thresh of a 'piece', eyes are ahead and you are quiet in the boat, focusing on holding your form and maintaining the momentum you need to go the distance.<br />
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But sometimes, in a double, if your partner is tired or weak, things can be tough going with one having to pull a little harder. It is awful when you are out of rhythm. What might usually be an 'easy' row, becomes quite arduous. <br />
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In these moments, tolerance and commitment is needed. Because if you have been training together for a while, you understand that not every day can be a good day for everyone. Sometimes, it's a bit of hard going but you compensate, you rally on, you motivate each other, you aim for the finish line, because you are a team!<br />
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Of course, the 'single' is very much different from a double, much as in life. In one, every component of the exercise is controlled by the individual. Should disaster strike, well it's your own fault. It is you who are master of your own vessel. Therefore, generally, in a single one is more observant and aware, as there is no one to compensate for a wonky stroke. In the double though, to be honest, sometimes you can 'switch off', especially if you are tired and it can be the case that one is working harder.<br />
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The best thing about a double is that there is someone else with you to look out for you. And, should there be misadventures, you will always have a story to share of how you struck that rock and all Bronwyn could offer was 'Shit, Shit, Shit!'<br />
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Of course, perfect co-ordination is what rowers seek. For the smoothest row, doubles partners must work in sync, sometimes anticipating their partner's intention. The best doubles partners have practiced regularly together. They work together for a mutual end. They are beautiful to watch.<br />
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You stick with your partner and certainly never 'eye off' the passing singles with a view to a different liaison. Strong doubles teams in rowing are created out of loyal partnerships with, often lifelong friendships resulting from the hours spent together, navigating sometimes difficult conditions with a view to best performance.<br />
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In real life, I am hoping that soon I will be in a double again with my partner, Mandy. (I am pleased to report she has been rowing in a quad in my absence and has not 'partnered' up with anyone else. I mean, that would be devastating!)<br />
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But alas, where life is concerned, my next double may be years away... if ever.<br />
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Because I have only just returned to my single having spent over nearly half my life in a double. I need to get comfortable in this configuration again so I can one again 'groove' my skills. I need to build up my stamina and know how capable I am in rougher conditions which, quite frankly, occur much more frequently than smoother ones, as is typical of my life. Only then might I make a decent double's partner, who is actually able to work with someone else in my boat who can, preferably, 'go the distance'. (Not easy to find; the world is overrun by selfish weaklings, alas).<br />
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The good thing is that, if I choose to row a single, I can row whenever I want. No one is relying on me and, if my alarm fails to ring tomorrow, hey, I can have a good sleep in and no one will care. Ain't no one gonna be wondering where I am.<br />
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There's a real freedom in that, don't you think?<br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-35442521096823045862017-01-11T16:52:00.001+10:002017-01-12T15:00:56.132+10:00One Tough BuggerFourteen months since the awful realisation that my marriage was to be discarded, I have at last cast the die and elicited the assistance of a lawyer.<br />
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Getting to this point has been extremely difficult.<br />
<br />
I am not a naturally aggressive person. As a middle child, my mother loves to tell the story of how I never got to sit by the window seat in the car as I was the natural peacemaker between my two often warring siblings. (Fiona would be wearing an eyepatch now if it wasn't for me!).<br />
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If some people are bulldogs, I am really like the annoying chihuahua. I have a lot to say but really, if it looks like I may score a boot up the backside, I tend to back off, maybe even retreating to insouciantly lift my leg against a rosebush and pretend I had never been there in the fight in the first place.<br />
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Okay, perhaps I am not <i>that</i> much of a wuss but overall, I am simply not confrontational. I am a very trusting and forgiving person. I believe that people will do the right thing - because <b>I</b> would. Practice peace man, and all will be well.<br />
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But, alas, I am led to believe that this is foolish talk when facing a marital separation.<br />
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No one in the sandbox will actually play nice when push comes to shove, I am told. <br />
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So of course, I have been encouraged to seek an independent arbiter, someone who might vouch impartially for my interests while ensuring that the outcome is the fair and equitable one I seek.<br />
<br />
This has not been an easy decision and has involved much vacillation.<br />
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Legal advice, apparently, is seen as threatening, escalating, and scary. It is a form of brinkmanship, testing whatever conditions of detente might have been imposed. The whole interaction is taken to a different level where deeper, often unpleasant emotions are aroused. <br />
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No wonder this little chihuahua was eyeing off the furthest rosebush....<br />
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But then, yesterday I learned to be utter horror, that there has been a third party involved in this story. <br />
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At once, there is someone I had not expected who has their eye on my sandbox and all of a sudden, of course I don't want to create sandcastles with my spade. I want to shove that spade into someone's eyes. I want to bury them in the sand and pee on their heads while I am about it.<br />
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As I understand it, it's a common scenario. Okay, maybe not the peeing bit.<br />
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Today my breast cancer mentor, Shaz and I had lunch. With our eerily parallel lives, she too has quite recently concluded a marriage of 20+ years to whom she believed to be a "nice" man - you know the popular, loyal, dependable type that "everyone" loves. Hmm, sounds like someone else I know.<br />
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Certainly, Shaz's experience has been instructive.<br />
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As she put it - and quite truly - when a relationship ends for a man who has chosen to leave, all he does is turn a switch off. He opens the door, shuts it behind him and buggers off whistling a tune to his greener pastures (presumably involving fabulous sex 13 times a day, with a woman who will never age (and still has breasts), and make a damn fine coconut curry).<br />
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We women are slower to let go (whether leaving or left). We have a dimmer switch and then, one we turn against our will. We linger at the open door. Tears fill our eyes. Soft music rises. We allow our eyes to graze over our beloved mementoes.<br />
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Above all, we 'hope'. We hope that somehow by magic all that was lost might be recovered. We hope that the former partner or spouse might wake up one day, realise the error of his ways, and return upon a white steed. We hope that all will work out for everyone's benefit and we can all be friends again rolling like maniacs in those greener pastures together. Hey, if we can make a nice coconut curry too (nudge, nudge, wink, wink), maybe that will change things? What are the chances?<br />
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But, alas. Life is not a fairytale. (No, seriously it's not). Some situations are absolute and the bolted horse is now miles away (possibly shagging a fabulous mare with a svelte hindquarter).<br />
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Instead, those of us who are left, sit alone in our empty bedrooms wondering where it all went pear shaped - or banana shaped as the case may be.<br />
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We wake to an empty space next to us. We wake to silence. We go to bed in silence. We wake to make our own cups of tea. At night there is no one to say Good Night to. Nobody cares if we are dead or alive. (Okay, that's a bit extreme but it is a good reason not to keep cats: in case you perish you know, and they end up eating your face haha).<br />
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Pfft, I hear you say, so trivial and pathetic. Look on the bright side. You are so freeeeeee! <br />
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But marriages in themselves involve a sharing of so many functions that we take for granted. It is very much like losing half of yourself when these are shedded. Yes, you are free, but you are often free of a vital organ or a gonad or two.<br />
<br />
As Shaz pointed out, if you get sick, someone is there to fetch you a Panadol. If you are in the middle of cooking and forgotten an ingredient, you can despatch someone to the shops. There is someone to fix things that are broken, someone to help you carry heavy stuff, to pick up you slack, to compensate for your weaknesses. When you are out with your girlfriends, there is someone who might call and ask you when you might be back. Someone cares where you are. When you fill out a form, you have someone you know for sure is Next of Kin. If you're having a bad day, there is someone to 'unload' to. <br />
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Divested of a partner, there is no one to grab a meal or a movie with. Finances must be carried alone. There is no one to help you with your zip and - how awful - no one to tell you if your bum looks big in your new frock.<br />
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I could go on...<br />
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No wonder divorce is such a wretched business. Life as you know it is overwritten by degrees. You are thrown into foreign seas, the lighthouse you once relied on dimmed. Now, lost and rudderless, you must somehow navigate yourself to a safe harbour, avoiding sharks if you can.<br />
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This is why seeking legal advice appears to be the 'go to' advice of every single person I have consulted.<br />
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Oh yes, trust is a nice thing to have but really, who are you to this stranger with whom you must now liaise? <br />
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You are nothing but a transaction that must be weighed, considered, discussed, perhaps argued over. With any luck it is all achieved without too much hostility.<br />
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Legal advice will help and the sooner the better I'm told.<br />
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It seems that, the longer one is 'separated', the more it is likely the other party's feelings will fade further, sometimes souring so badly that, well, it's unlikely to end well. <br />
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Naturally, one expects collateral damage.<br />
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Friends will peel away. Relatives will take sides. (People like my Mum will struggle to face facts). Young children will be pawned. Older kids may be indelibly impacted, seeking them to question the parental moral code.<br />
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Family functions will become uncomfortable affairs. Invitations by mutual friends will have to be weighed against the discomfort one might feel on attending. Wills will be redrawn. Guns might even be drawn if this were America (I wouldn't ignore this possibility).<br />
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In the meantime, what unfolds is an unending story of loss, amongst them commodities that are difficult to recoup. For instance, we can lose the ability to hope. We can lose our sense of security. We can lose self-esteem. We can lose self-identity. We can lose the capacity to trust. We can lose perspective. We can lose reason. We can lose our ability to behave with decency.<br />
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We can even lose the desire to live (especially where men are concerned; did you know divorced men are 40 times more likely to commit suicide than those who are not?).<br />
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One thing that is most commonly lost is dignity. Rage and a sense of being wronged (often irrational) can lead us to despatch toxic texts or long, accusing emails (I am guilty of both!). There is some self-destructive urge to slash and burn.<br />
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It is indeed a tough, often destructive and lonely business.<br />
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However, as I have discovered, while the tough and destructive bit is, unfortunately, for you to resolve in your own time and in your own way, there is no need to do it completely alone. There are people out there who have been through it and they can be a wonderful source of support. And even inspiration!<br />
<br />
In 2015, there were 48,517 divorces granted in Australia (says Mr Google). (This was up 4.3% on 2014). This means that there are thousands and thousands of experiences you can draw from. <br />
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As I have said, only someone who has been through a divorce understands just how blistering the process is.<br />
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And they make terrific confidantes as, it seems, the levels of kindness and empathy among this cohort is significant. I have already found many who are willing to provide their support.<br />
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If you are currently going through a divorce, therefore, my piece of advice today is this: Don't go it alone.<br />
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Talk to people about your situation. No one will judge you and there is nothing you should be ashamed of. <br />
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There are divorcees galore out there - as beautiful, compassionate, gracious and loveable as any who are not - and they provide an (often free!) shoulder upon which you can rely should you need someone to listen to you.<br />
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Let it go, let it flow. And, well, you never know. One day, it really will all be behind you. <br />
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You will come to a place where you feel strong and inviolate.<br />
<br />
Because if you can survive divorce, my friends, you can survive anything. <br />
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You will be one tough bugger. <br />
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How awesome will that be? My divorced pals say: Pretty Bloody Awesome! I can't wait.<br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-89243847389256161522017-01-09T21:40:00.001+10:002017-01-10T07:28:56.835+10:00No Fears for Tears<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yesterday I marked a special day. One week into 2017 and I have not cried. Not one tear has been shed. Not one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is indeed a noteworthy event as, quite frankly, it's been a bit of an El Nina period with my lachrymal ducts over the past two years. There have been bucket loads of tears - tears that have come unexpectedly, in response to a song or a picture or even the shape of a cloud. It's ridiculous!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The thing though is that crying, sobbing and boo-hoo-hooing is actually a natural and important part of dealing with difficult times in life and quite frankly, no one should be ashamed of allowing these emotions to assert themselves.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It is okay to feel sad.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is something I learned early in this story of separation and marital abandonment, when consumed by that darkness I have already described - the darkness teeming with feral bats, black dogs, that sort of thing - I was motivated to consult a psychologist.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Cancer Council of Australia generously subsidises five <u>free</u> counselling sessions. And with successive doctor's referrals you can continue to access their fantastic service.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Very early in our dialogue, my consultant Kate intuited that I was of that personality type that laughs off adversity. I have a tendency to laugh while telling a sad story. It's by turns weird and extremely irritating I am sure.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But Kate told me that I needed to be let that feeling of sadness in - and sit with it. Of course, I took her words to heart. Perhaps too much to heart as I have, in the past 24 months, 'sat with' my sadness so intensely I think I have become something of a 'cry baby'. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">These days, in short, I can cry at the drop of a hat (which could be very sad indeed, especially if it blew away in the wind - and it was a very nice. expensive one).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is unusual behaviour for me. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Until recent months, I was simply not a crier. I owe this in part to my upbringing. Like my sisters, I was despatched to boarding school at a very young age. When you are brought up by surly Irish Catholic nuns, and your mum and dad are miles away, I can tell you that a five year old learns very quickly that it is useless to cry. No one comes running out to tend to you. Mostly nobody even notices.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And so, for more than four decades, I was one of those people who really did keep a stiff upper lip. Subsequently, I developed a radar for 'whingers'. You know, those people dumping their negative energy on you. Who made it all about 'them'?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I would secretly roll my eyes... </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Until the bats and the black dogs, and Kate, taught me that in fact, this business of <b>not </b>crying is, in fact, counter-productive and extremely unhealthy.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">These so-called 'whingers' have worked it out because criers, it seems, fare a lot better than those who are stoic. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It is healthy to vent and release - judiciously of course. (Right <u>now</u> ... or at a job interview, or a 50th birthday, or the moment you are to switch off someone's life support ... is not necessarily the best time to start blubbering like a five-year- old about our own selfish woes).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Academics such as Vinderhoets (2013) (sorry, it's my phD talking...) have said that 'crying occurs predominantly in situations characterised by separation, loss and helplessness, and being overwhelmed by strong emotion, be it positive or negative'.*</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In psychology, attachment theorists argue that crying is an appeal for presence and attention from a caregiver.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Many academics have demonstrated that crying promotes empathy and prosocial behaviour, including the stimulation of caregiving and protective responses from others, facilitates social bonding, and reduces interpersonal aggression.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Quite recent research has shown that visible tears significantly impact the evaluation of a human face, the identified need of support and the self-reported willingness to provide assistance and comfort to others.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">(However, acoustical crying - you know, the loud, annoying type, from babies, or people who didn't win the Powerball last week, for instance - may elect anger, irritation, frustration and even aggression. This is why one must be choosy about when and where one vents one's sorrow.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Meanwile, the latest research increasingly highlights the value of crying in what's called 'self soothing behaviour'. <span style="background-color: white;">Some researchers have even suggested a dose–response relationship between crying and relief, meaning that more intensive crying would result in greater relief. Who knew?</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">From the above, you can pretty much glean clearly that crying is really import</span><span style="background-color: white;">ant. It plays a central role in the whole process of coping and healing and maybe even moving on.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">None of us should, therefore, ever be ashamed or afraid of crying (even it it ruins our make-up) and demonstrating the fact that, well, we are a just a little bit sad, and could do with a K</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">leenex.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">Unfortunately though, in these days of</span><b style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"> relentless positivism, </b><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">crying uncensored can be </span><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">quite difficult to do. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Just look at social media. Nobody, it seems, is having a bad day. Everyone is having one hell of a ride. Their children, their hairdos - even their pets - are bespoke and perfect. Their lovers adore them. There homes are immaculate. And OMG, look don't even mention the way they present their food! Life is instagrammed to perfection with just the right filter. Mundanity is photoshopped, reality is manipulated and a culture of envy is propagated, fuelled by narcissism and vanity.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Meanwhile, armchair experts who appear to have worked out the mysteries of the universe, avidly share their formulae for success, power, goal-setting, self actualisation and The Se</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">cret. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In this empowered and glittering world, there is no room for the blighted and needy.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Instead, we are extolled to rise, shine and conquer. Yes. You. Can!</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"> bright side is so close! It is just within our reach. All you have to do is want it. Reach out, sisters and brothers! Believe! </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">B</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ut wait. Wait!!! What is this heresy I hear. You cannot? Tell me, sisters and brothers. This cannot be true. You cannot? Because you are... what is this word? Can you spell it for me? S-A-D?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let's be truthful. This incessant chirpiness appears to be perceived as a prerequisite for friendship, su</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">pport and acceptance.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">Everyone loves happy people, yes? Everyone loves selfies of your glorious smile! </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">We are not really allowed to be sad because if you are sad, well you must be depressed, and if you are depressed well, you must be </span><b style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">suicidal! </b><b style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"> </b><span style="background-color: white;">Eeeeeeek! </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Being sad is bad. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">However, this is real</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ly an unhelpful attitude and could be one reason that suicide is such a plague.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What is more helpful if people who are fortunate enough not to be sad, understood that sad people don't need geeing up. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They need comfort, understanding and support, all of which can be provided at only the cost of a little of your time. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">As I have discovered, when someone is sad - </span><u style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">actually </u><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">sad</span><b style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">, </b><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">the correct response is not to sweet talk them with seductive words about how life is really great. No. Life for a person who is sad is not 'great'. If it were 'great' they would not be sad. They would be happy. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">The thing is <b>we feel what </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><b>we </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><b>feel</b>. And we are entitled to feel what </span><b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">we </b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">feel about our </span><b style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">own </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">lives </span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">and our own circumstances. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">N</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">o one should be extolling us to 'move on' ... as if our emotions were lined up in a queue and if we would only take one step forward, we would move from darkness to sunlight... just </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">like that. </span></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">Come on! You can do it! Yes. You. Can!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What complete crap! If you feel sad, you feel sad. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;">My advice is is to let it all out. There, there. If you feel like crying, you do it. I don't care where you are. In the chapel, at your party (can cry if you want to).</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;">After all, as the Roman poet Ovid once said: “It is some relief to weep; grief is satisfied and carried off by tears.” </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If today is anything to go by, this is indeed true.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Roll on Day 10 of 2017. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here's to another tear-less day emboldened by the fact that, actually, if I <i>were</i> to shed a few today, hey! It will be okay.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It really will.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><i>* </i></span></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Source: Gracanin et al 'Is Crying a Self-Soothing Behaviour' from 'Frontiers in Psychology (2014, 5:50</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2).</span></i></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "stixgeneral" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.999099731445313px;"><br /></span></span></span></span><br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-66372446598657671432017-01-07T18:05:00.003+10:002017-01-09T22:40:21.204+10:00The Sequel BeginsA long time ago, my breast cancer mentor Shaz wryly observed that: Cancer is the Gift that Keeps on Giving.<br />
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Certainly, as I boldly concluded my memoir, <b>The Breast its History,</b> I gaily wrote 'The End' and trusted that well - that was that.<br />
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But, as 2017 gets going, and I approach the five year mark since completing treatment, I find that there is so much more to my story that, I feel, can be shared to help and empower those dealing with a breast cancer diagnosis, their family, friends and supporters.<br />
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The pivotal event, as I have alluded to in my last blog, is my separation and pending divorce.<br />
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The fact is the state of my affairs at present is very common. I can't find any actual evidence of this but I've been told that <u>more than</u> 1 in 2 women who deal with a breast cancer diagnosis will also deal with divorce or separation from a long-term partner. <br />
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The problem is <b>no one wants to talk about it.</b><br />
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Some time after the event, I finally had the chance to advise my oncologist Poh See, of my new marital status. It was one of those rare moments when this usually stoic professional actually allowed me to see an emotion. Her face fell. I thought she was going to cry.<br />
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It seems that Poh See has too often heard this story of heartbreak and she understands how much more difficult it can be for some women, especially if the circumstances involve philandering (a common occurrence, alas, but thankfully not in my case) or financial ruin.<br />
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Some couples, she said, managed to stay together. When I asked why, she theorised that she thought those who sit together throughout the entire treatment saga tend to fare better.<br />
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'So why aren't we told this as part of the counselling process, prior to treatment,' I asked. But Poh See had no answers.<br />
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Let's face it. Cancer is a selfish business. As my memoir thus far attests to, it is very rare that the spouse or partner - being brought along for the ride - is even a consideration. Not even in the latter stages. Perhaps relationship issues are, therefore, inevitable.<br />
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But if such issues commonly occur, there is a good reason why people aren't keen to discuss them publicly.<br />
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Only those who have been through a separation or divorce will understand how eviscerating the process is. It is profoundly hurtful and deeply scarring.<br />
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Watching someone throw petrol on your dreams and set it alight is not an easy thing to share. <br />
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After all, here is how the basic narrative usually unfolds. Your doctor gives you the all clear. You breathe a sigh of relief. You emerge, rejoicing, from the trenches.., and are struck by a grenade. Sometimes, you don't even have the chance to leave the trenches.<br />
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Sure, a mess is left. But is everything, necessarily, lost?<br />
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Of course my answer is 'no'.<br />
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Because, as I have discovered thus far, there is a reason for this darkness, this shadow. It is what gives meaning to light. It's shadow that ultimately defines form. Without shadow, there is no perspective and all you see is two dimensions.<br />
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You see, it is our traumas, trials and tribulations that provide clarity. It's the challenges we face that lead to revelation. In this alchemy, two things occur:<br />
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Firstly,<b> others </b>begin to see <b>us</b> more clearly. With our vulnerabilities exposed, we are presented to the world bare, naked and shivering. With our defences down, masks are removed and so - there we are. There <b>we</b> are.<br />
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Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, it is <b>we</b> who see <b>others </b>more clearly, sharpening perspectives and deepening empathy and understanding. Starkly revealed, your own blindfolds are removed, and <b>here </b>is reality and, well, there <b>you</b> are.<br />
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Surely, this state of truly seeing and understanding is an evolution. Surely there is something to be learned. Surely this is gold? We shall see.<br />
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In the meantime, please do not judge this rather average instalment too harshly. It is a miracle that I am writing again, at all. <br />
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Mysterious forces are leading me forward and I sincerely hope you will join me for the ride ahead.<br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-61182363913332455752016-09-23T12:17:00.000+10:002016-09-23T12:31:54.616+10:00FiveI have woken to a fresh, bright morning, bursting with energy and optimism.<br />
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And I suppose, it is all makes for a perfect day to mark an important milestones.<br />
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Today is the day! It was exactly five years ago that I sat opposite my doctor and first heard the dreaded words: 'You will never be Miranda Kerr'.... and something about lalalala.<br />
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Five years and 99 Instalments in my online memoir later...<br />
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So much has transpired (albeit in approximations):<br />
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<ul>
<li>Two mastectomies</li>
<li>Six shots of chemo</li>
<li>20+ shots of radiation</li>
<li>3 MRIs</li>
<li>1 Bone Scan</li>
<li>2 CT Scans</li>
<li>30 blood tests </li>
<li>1 stint in ICU</li>
<li>1 Sister's Breast Cancer</li>
<li>1 Sister's spinal tumour</li>
<li>1 death in the family</li>
<li>6 funerals attended (George, Louise's Mum, Louise's Dad, Lyndal's Dad, James's Aunt ... and Spunky)</li>
<li>20 + Specialist follow-ups</li>
<li>4 new sports attempted (hockey, outrigging, fencing and rowing)</li>
<li>1 book launch</li>
<li>Roughly 20+ speaking engagements</li>
<li>1 book prize</li>
<li>5 trips abroad (India/Bhutan/Nepal; a Mediterranean cruise with the family; Thailand; the Philippines; Czech Republic/Austria/Poland)</li>
<li>1 phD commenced</li>
<li>1 marriage break up</li>
<li>2 wedding invitations</li>
<li>1 engagement party</li>
<li>4 Prime Ministers</li>
<li>2 Local Government Elections</li>
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And so the list goes on - an eclectic '365 Days of Cancer' that changes every year without the Partridge or the Pear Tree ever appearing. (However, I do have a Brush Turkey on the Back Deck - that is something!)</div>
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Life it seems, is not to be stalled by the spectre of a cancer battle. It is not to be denied.</div>
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In my daily advance, I have stayed firmly focused on the horizon making 'moving forward' my only option. <br />
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After all, change is the nature of life, and I have opted to seize it. It has often been uncomfortable - even distressing but you know, if you're not changing you are not growing. <br />
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I mean. Come on! Even rocks change.</div>
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In the process, I am truly grateful to all my family and friends who have aided me, supported me, counselled me, held me, hugged me and some who have never let me go.</div>
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I would not have survived thus far without you.</div>
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A special mention to my Oncologist, Poh See, my surgeon Jason, the Chicks in Pink and the Cancer Council, all people who have made a meaningful contribution to my continued survival thus far.<br />
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Thank you each and everyone of you.</div>
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Five. Alive. It's fucking awesome.</div>
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-35284722174558777852016-09-19T15:53:00.003+10:002016-09-19T21:38:02.538+10:00Loss and GrowthIt's a miserable, windy Monday morning and guess what? I turn 53 today! It's a milestone for me because this time five years ago, I had already noticed the change in my breast, I had already had my biopsy. I already knew...<br />
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So it's very special indeed that I can reflect now upon the five years that have gone by.<br />
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Poh See says that in reality, the cancer mark is taken from the time of your first major procedure (excluding lumpectomy and biopsy). <br />
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But for me, the really meaningful day was that Saturday morning, breakfasting with a close few, keeping my secret silent, and announcing that 'age is a privilege' - at my birthday FIVE years ago!<br />
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What is the theme of all that has transpired in the intervening years?<br />
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I would sum it up as: "Loss and Growth". <br />
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Perhaps it is one of the perplexing ironies of being human that, in some respects, <i>all </i> loss is a kind of growth.<br />
<ul>
<li>A growth of courage - for those of us who are able to keep going. </li>
<li>A growth of spirit - for those of us who come to realise the extent of our capacity to survive the worst.</li>
<li>A growth of insight - for from all loss is learning, about oneself and our place in the world, and of others in that world.</li>
<li>A growth of strength - for are not the sharpest blades forged of fire and sharpened by stone?</li>
</ul>
In the end, I wonder if, in all of this - this terrifying business of being human, with all our mortality and vulnerability and propensity for doubt and insecurity and failure - the one truth is that it is only from this continual diminishing that somehow we are all expanded?<br />
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Could it be that it is in the process of knowing, comprehending and accepting loss that we realise the full extent of our magnificence? <br />
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It's something I ponder now as I sit alone in an apartment de-Benned for the weekend. On Friday I had drinks and dinner with James and Libby. I've known James since I was 17 and he has been unbelievably kind and supportive to me over the years.<br />
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On Saturday, I consumed a string of Margaritas in an ill-considered pre-birthday knees up that saw me literally weaving my way home in a haze, narrowly missing one or two encounters with the pavement. But it was so much fun. It's not something I do every day but I quite enjoyed getting plastered. If not shtonkered. Pissed as a parrot, plastered and stewed. With my friends Ness, Cath, Les, Ann, Sharyn, Lindar and John in tow, I was, you could say, a little untidy. <br />
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On Sunday I had dinner with my sister Fiona, a much more sophisticated affair. And today, I am looking forward to lunch with Rachy, a catch up with Ethel and dinner with my parents.<br />
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It is these precious moments that I have focused on in the process and recovery from the runaway freight train of a breast cancer diagosis. Sure, I have had my losses: health, husband, home, hound. But it is here, from these interactions over a meal, a cuppa, or my fourth margarita that I have gained my real opportunity for growth.<br />
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I think I am just <i>better</i> overall at at least some of the subtleties of relationships.<br />
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I have a greater appreciation of the whole business of simply being and whatever that entails. <br />
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I have learned to value silence and stillness.<br />
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I have learned how to render the negative spaces in order to identify the form.<br />
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I have come to appreciate how it is that what is lacking or missing or lost is, in fact, the way in which I begin to see the true shape of things: of life as it is right here right now.<br />
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<i>Every</i> loss can be, albeit with some legerdemain, an opportunity.<br />
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All that is required is a shift in perspective and, of course, the willingness to make that shift. <br />
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And right there is the true challenge.<br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-40304970942376934972016-08-30T12:27:00.001+10:002016-08-30T16:22:56.137+10:00Owning itYou haven't heard from me in a while and, I have to be honest. It's because I've really had a shit time over the past 18 months beginning with a marriage break up.<br />
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I've really been playing it all pretty cool, unsure of whether it is appropriate to share this news with you. After all, there are other people involved. A husband. Two sons. An extended family of parents and sisters.<br />
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Strangely I was unembarrassed by everything to do with that breast cancer business. Unashamed of my scars, of the Antarctic sheaving, of tales of toilet bowls and sputum.<br />
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But a marriage break-up is another thing altogether: a failure of epic proportions.<br />
<br />
Besides which, I had for months foolishly anticipated that the unhappy soon-to-be former husband would go off to some far off hilltop, contemplate his belly button, be blinded by a huge flash of enlightenment and, naturally, realise the error of his ways, returning to me bearing roses - devoted wife and mother of the sprog of the loins.<br />
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Alas, it was not to be. The bombshell was dropped on a warm summer's evening in November polished off with an email bearing news of mass wifely failings ... from an overseas golf trip would you believe. <br />
<br />
22 years of marriage erased with a blithe 'time heals all wounds' and 'she'll be right' - and the extent of my long-held delusions cruelly revealed.<br />
<br />
You would think the shit would stop there. Was it not enough that the ensuing nights would find me crying on multiple shoulders, wailing on others, seeking the couches of counsellors, resorting too frequently to the bottle (okay, I'm exaggerating... not exactly but certainly one unhealthy glass of Cab Merlot too many)?<br />
<br />
No my friends. This is not how the universe works.<br />
<br />
In April I broke my wrist in three places, after a fall from a horse while galloping across the plains of Kosciusko National Park, poetically somersaulting in glorious slow motion over the head of a bemused equine and landing upon a pile of dingo poo (as you do).<br />
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In May I was forced to have a painful sub-cutaneous growth cut from my nose - the resulting scar disfiguring a face that really needed no further disfiguring, thank you very much. Thank god for make-up is all I can say.<br />
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In June, I noticed my beloved and faithful hound, Spunky had started to lose weight. He began carrying a leg in an awkward way. There were multiple visits to the vet and much stress - not to mention expense.<br />
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In July I was forced to put him down. Diagnosed on the Tuesday. Gone to Dog less than 24 hours later. The grief was almost paralysing.<br />
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Now it's the end of August, and what is there to say?<br />
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Just this.<br />
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What I have learned from my travails so far is that whatever has happened to me, I own it completely. <br />
<br />
Not for one second do I wish I was someone else. Not for one moment do I blame anyone else for the place I now inhabit. At no point in my story thus far have I allowed myself to believe that I am an object of bad luck or miserable fate. I accept my life for what it is: a product of, well, ME!<br />
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As it is, on the the heels of various life calamities for me has come a golden opportunity for self reflection. <br />
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I have navigated a winding tributary of tears. I have crawled, struggling to breathe, through an asphyxiating smog of loneliness. I have dragged a heart, heavy with aching, a brain alive with questions and doubt, through a tunnel of blackness. <br />
<br />
And emerging forth, I have come to truly own my story, led by my narrative arc to a point where I have gained a level of understanding that many may spend lifetimes chasing.<br />
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From pain has come a deep empathy for others, and an intuition that life is far from perfect for most.<br />
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From hurt has come a feeling of one's own human-ness, of actually BEING here, a here-ness that no volume of alcohol can dull.<br />
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From vulnerability has come a profound gratitude for family and friends.<br />
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Finally, from all this has come a fearlessness. For truly, if I can survive the shit I have so far, I can survive anything!<br />
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It won't ever be easy, or pleasant, but I am subsumed by a confidence that whatever lies ahead of me, I can and I will get through it.<br />
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So if you are currently looking at me with that look of sympathy that is all too familiar to me, stop it.<br />
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In some ways you should be envious of me. Because I don't need to do any Kokoda Challenge to prove anything anymore.<br />
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For some of us, life itself is one long boot camp, a series of tests one is called upon to withstand and eventually pass.<br />
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It really is true: what doesn't kill you and all that.<br />
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But the strength you gain is not a given. To gain it there is one thing you have to do. Just one.<br />
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Seize the life you have been given - and own it - every last painful, ugly, beautiful, exhilarating, depressing, desperate, confronting, awful, uplifting, hideous moment of it.<br />
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Because love it or loathe it, this is the only life you have.<br />
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Isn't it amazing?<br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-7609671060486298022015-09-23T11:53:00.002+10:002015-09-23T11:56:59.301+10:00Anniversary 4<div>
I am in the middle of a major project and a terrifyingly close deadline, but I absolutely <b>must</b> remind you - today is a Big Day.</div>
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Today. What a Great Day!</div>
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Four years since I first heard those dreadful words: 'You will never see George Clooney Naked'.</div>
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And of course you know the other thing that was something like 'la la la cancer la la '</div>
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It's really quite amazing to think about what I have endured over the last four years. Narrative arc? I don't think so. More like a graph mapping the fortunes of the Australian Dollar.</div>
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Talk about up and down!</div>
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Needless to say, much has happened since my last communique:</div>
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Ben got his licence; he turned 18; he had his first real girlfriend (briefly). I am absolutely certain the boy will come good. </div>
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Harry has been going gangbusters with his music. He and his music partner, Rarbie, have toured far and wide this year, and by about April, the lads had a Gold Frequent Flyer Card. At present, we are all agog as there are rumours a big dude in the States may be interested in the lads.</div>
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Al got his golf handicap down to 8. He busted his bum building a little home for us down in Redland Bay. He dealt with his own little health scares. Then he went overseas for a couple of months for a well-earned break. </div>
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My sister Nicky found a tumour in her spine. It proved to be nothing serious and within a few days after the operation, she was pretty much kicking up her heels.</div>
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My sister Fiona is well into her PhD. In between the gazillion things she usually does, she's also organising a Foreign Film Festival for Kids. There's no stopping that girl. </div>
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And what about George Clooney, eh? What a turncoat. Marrying that floozy.</div>
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Meanwhile there is me.</div>
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This year I travelled to the Philippines - alone.</div>
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I got a short-term contract with a new College starting up in my town and five months whizzed by. What an adventure, meeting some incredible people and learning something new.</div>
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And I, too was accepted into a phD program. I'm pursuing a topic in the field of influence and social media. I saw it as an opportunity not just to progress my knowledge but, more importantly, to justify the huge endless hours I seem to spend on Facebook. Pretty smart huh?</div>
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In between, my life has been not unlike a dodgy currency (that, or a neat shot on a well-played golf hole) - up and down. Yes, some pretty <b>down </b>downs (kind of like a Coles prices) - and some pretty up UPs (I mean, I<b> </b><i>did</i> win $360 at Keno - for a non-gambler a one-off and soooooooo exciting).</div>
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But all in all, the 'life take' report card, today on this special anniversary is probably a B.<br />
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This suggests there is "room for improvement". But guess what? Isn't there always?</div>
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B? Pfft. It's a heck of a lot better than a D. (And we will know what that letter could stand for when the real subject here is la la la la la).</div>
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bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-78204988248729282392014-12-11T16:53:00.000+10:002014-12-11T19:04:13.974+10:00Through Al's EyesMore than three years since my diagnosis with the Big C, I am now in a position to address one question that I have often been asked but have, until now, struggled to answer.<br />
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The question relates to my husband, Alan, and what <i>he</i> may have been going through while I was swanning around in chemo wards, and garnering the kind of celebrity every cancer patient will recognise.<br />
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It's the kind of celebrity that comes when the world's attention seems to be focused on you - you, you, you! You're treated like the all-conquering hero! The courageous soldier! The quietly suffering martyr!<br />
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So of course, it's a difficult question to answer. You mean there's someone <u>else</u>?!<br />
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The fact is that when many go through a cancer diagnosis, it's all too easy to become somewhat selfish. It's easy to forget that there are more people involved in this story. <br />
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That while <u>you</u> may be unwell there's this other bastard who is picking up the pieces, compensating for your physical, emotional or mental absence. Holding the fort.<br />
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And that is, of course, your partner or spouse.<br />
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So how <i>does</i> this co-star in this dismal narrative cope with it all? What goes on in his or her mind? <br />
<br />
Where Al was concerned, this was always going to be difficult to establish. An Englishman, not only does he go out in the midday sun, but he was born with a 'stiff upper lip'. He's the kind of gentleman who who doesn't like to make a fuss. <br />
<br />
In fact, for years, it would really infuriate me when, where certain issues were involved I'd be waving my little Sri Lankan arms and loudly pushing my opinion, and when I'd ask Al if <u>he</u> agreed with my views he'd just shrug and mutter, 'Maybe.'<br />
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I mean, seriously, this man so rarely complains. No matter how disappointed or let down he is, in most cases, he'll find a way to say: 'It's okay'. Nothing, it seems is that big a deal.<br />
<br />
So how did this man cope when I was sick? What the hell was going through his mind?<br />
<br />
I don't know! He just kept on doing his 'thing'!<br />
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But now, nearly three years and three months after learning my goose was to be finely sliced, gently sauteed in a chemo sauce, then slowly grilled to perfection with a dash of radiation, I finally know just what Al went through and how he felt.<br />
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Because, as fate would have it, I am now walking in Al's shoes.<br />
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Because... Al, himself, is now a cancer patient.<br />
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The news could not have been more poetically timed. On the day our second son, Ben, graduated, I was excited and primed for freedom. Freedom, freedom, freedom. Freedom from the tedium of school lunches. Freedom from the stress of coping with the recalcitrant teen's frequent detentions for hideous crimes such as repeatedly being 5 minutes late to school. No more school stress, hooray!<br />
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But that afternoon, the Universe it seems had different plans when Al returned home from a visit to the doctor's and announced: 'I have bladder cancer'.<br />
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I know. You're thinking what I'm thinking. 'Bladdy hell!'<br />
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But while this cancer is different from mine, there are many things about Al's story so far that are not that dissimilar.<br />
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Like me, he has for some time appeared to me to lack, somewhat, in stamina and signs of fatigue should have provided an early warning.<br />
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Like me, he's been quite lackluster. He's looked pale in photographs. He just hasn't seemed to have his old mojo.<br />
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Like me, there's been some obvious symptoms that have had him return for testing to specialists -at least twice over the past four years, in fact. Actually, I do believe he was not exactly tickety-boo when <b>I </b>was going through the thick of things.<br />
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An ultrasound, followed by a CT scan finally confirmed the diagnosis and within days Al was off to see a urologist.<br />
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Like me, the speed at which things have moved is familiar. My poor husband was despatched overnight to the Mater Hospital for a rather painful procedure. Eyewatering, in fact.<br />
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Following the operation, again, like me, we endured that hideous period of nailbiting not-knowing as results are sent away and confirmed.<br />
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The urologist had told us that bladder cancer takes two forms. One is basically a nuisance requiring frequent follow ups (as recurrence is common). The second, well, it's pretty bloody bad, potentially resulting in an artificial bladder and other ghastly things.<br />
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What would it be?<br />
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On Tuesday this week we found out. The cancer is a low grade one. Hooray!<br />
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As a result, I now know exactly how Al felt when I was sick.<br />
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The days around diagnosis are tense and fraught with wild imaginings - in my case, of early widowhood. <br />
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One is wracked by concern for one's formerly strong and robust spouse who is suddenly reduced to someone fragile and transient. All of a sudden, it has been me jumping up in the mornings to offer the man tea and breakfast.<br />
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I have started to treat him more tenderly, this diagnosis suddenly really bringing it home to me how much I have come to rely on him being in <i>his </i>space so I can be comfortably in mine. I just can't imagine life without him. <br />
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The thing is, already, I see how easily we take the ones we love for granted. You just think, don't you, that they'll be there forever?<br />
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I have, thus, had to very quickly come to terms with the idea, at least, of a massive reinvention - of hopes and dreams and aspirations - of everything.<br />
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In between, perhaps inevitably, there has been crying, saddening at the stress on Al's mum, Ethel, and at the idea that my boys may be orphaned too early if both of us cark it.<br />
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And of course, there has been praying, dusting off my rosary beads and pleading of the Good Lord to show us some of his famous Mercy. (I'm sure He's rolling his eyes and groaning: 'Not you again!)<br />
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Meanwhile, for our close friends and relatives too, history has been repeated. My Mum has dusted off her 'never-fail' novena and is, as I write, still madly praying. <br />
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I was secretly deeply moved when Al's friends, Andre and Trevor offered to look after some of his chores. Trev offered to organise a working bee. Andre offered to check in on his Mum.<br />
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I seem to be reliving my story... and you won't believe it. This time, once again, my Aunty Ethel is visiting from Sri Lanka! <br />
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So you can see why, from all of this so far, one thing has been brought home to me.<br />
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The efforts I have made in sharing my story have been worth it all - worth the hard work and humiliation, worth all the empty rooms and poor books sales, and that one cheapskate who wanted a free book.<br />
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Because guess whose words I have been relying on even this early in the tale. That's right. My own!<br />
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So far, Al's story has really brought home to me how the advice and perspectives I've been sharing really are quite valuable. <br />
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As a result, already there are so many elements of my story that are common to everyone that Bronwyn Hope's words have been bloody useful to, well, Bronwyn Hope. Who knew?!<br />
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For example, thanks to her, I recognise the universal human experience in how we share and experience illness. Everyone finds it hard to know who to tell when a loved one is sick; everyone finds it difficult to have to repeat chapter and verse when explaining a medical scenario. Jeez, this blog has been handy!<br />
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Thanks to her, I know that we should tell ourselves the right story. Why catastrophise unnecessarily? Who know what the future holds? Let's not make it any worse than it needs to be. <br />
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I know that we should ask for and accept help when it's offered. So if the guys want to organise a working bee, he should not forget to take them up on the offer. <br />
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I know that life carries on around us while these big events occur and it's important to continue with one's usual rituals, as normally as possible. Our cancer stories don't define us. They should not override all the other blessed, beautiful things that go with the simple act of breathing.<br />
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There is so much I know because of <u>my</u> story.<br />
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And now there is something else to know.<br />
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I know how all of it looked through Al's eyes. <br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-86451583467091159342014-09-24T09:28:00.001+10:002014-09-24T11:47:28.495+10:00Three YearsToday marks an important anniversary.<br />
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Today is the 30th anniversary of that wonderful little TV favourite, 'Happy Days!"<br />
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Perhaps it is an omen, because today also marks another important anniversary.<br />
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Today it is actually <b>three years</b> to the day since I found myself sitting opposite my doctor and hearing words such as 'chemotherapy' for the first time.<br />
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It is three years since the door opened to the strange and terrifying world that is cancer.<br />
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It is only on reflection that I realise what enormous hurdles both I and my family leapt. They were really tough days and I'm just glad I have my book to remind me what I went through.<br />
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Because it's human nature to want to cloak the distressing parts of our past with forgetting.<br />
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So I feel extremely fortunate that I have created a record of my struggle to remind me. <br />
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And I feel privileged that my story has already helped many people dealing with the same bad news. I continue to receive positive feedback from people of all ages and all walks of life. It may only translate to a handful of people compared to the huge swathe of humanity but remember what Mother Teresa said:<br />
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Breast Cancer has totally changed my life. Obviously.<br />
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Not only do I now have a far more stream-lined chest, thinner hair, a brain that is probably a few seconds slower to compute.<br />
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I also have endless reasons for self-pity, for anger and for the many negative emotions that can accompany a kind of trauma.<br />
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However, for not one single, solitary minute have I allowed these feelings to take dominance. Today and every day, I work very hard to continue to be the best Bron I can be.<br />
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It's not always easy. I still have days when I am committing at least one of the seven deadly sins:<br />
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For example, I am consumed by <b>envy</b> at my friends who can still run, run, run! At my friends still playing soccer. At my friends who can <u>remember</u> shit. Like my sister, Nicky. I swear that woman can remember the colour of the underwear she wore at her fifth birthday.<br />
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I get <b>angry </b>(frequently) over some things that perhaps mightn't have had me in quite such a lather once. In fact, I have episodes of fury. Yeah, I know you're surprised.<br />
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I even <b>hate. </b>Okay, not really. I would find that hard. But I do continue to hate and despise cliches. For example, take the phrase 'I love you to the moon and back'. I don't doubt the genuine affection behind this lovely thought but I have read it so many times of late that I'm thinking: Come on folks! How about some creativity? How about 'I love you to Pluto and back'? ' I love you to the Milky Way and back'? I love you to over the Story Bridge, onto the Bruce Highway and Somewhere Past Weipa and Back? Hmm?<br />
<br />
Anyway, you get my drift, I am far, far, far, far, <b>farrrrrrrrrr</b> from being my best and sadly, have to accept that I never will be.<br />
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But that's okay because, such as it is, these are still Happy Days!<br />
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Last week I celebrated my 51st birthday. I am extremely happy to be alive.<br />
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People say that from this vantage point, there is only the other side of the hill. Some sort of predictable downward slide.<br />
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I disagree. I do not see the other side of the hill.<br />
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Instead, before me I see other hills, other shit to haul. Because that is what life is. In fact, I love hills! Because they are the things that give structure, form and perhaps, even, meaning to my story.<br />
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All I know is that, three years on, I am certain that whatever other hills may reveal themselves, I can overcome them and you know, even if I don't make the top of the next one, even if I find myself felled by an avalanche half way up the next mound, it's okay.<br />
<br />
Because at the very least, it's made for a decent story.<br />
<br />
www.thebreastishistory.com is where you can find it. Hey! It's my blog. I'm allowed to give myself a plug.<br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-75133713127511211082014-09-03T13:00:00.000+10:002014-09-04T08:18:57.845+10:00Three Tips for Dealing with Dark Days<div class="_wk _5rny attachmentUnit" style="background-color: white; border-left-color: rgb(192, 201, 221); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 2px; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px 0px 12px -9px; padding: 5px 0px 5px 8px;">
Unless you've been living on a rock, you may have noticed that depression and it's evil sister, suicide, have been prominent in the news of late.</div>
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The world at large has been rocked by news of Robin Williams, Charlotte Dawson, L'Wrenn Scott - and yesterday, the husband of a well-known Australian radio personality.</div>
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I was just talking to my friend Trish, who has by all accounts had a tough life. She suffers from excruciating back pain controlled only by medication; she has an intellectually disabled son; and she has had more health scares than I have had hot lunches.</div>
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But you know, Trish still rallies on. So I wondered why others can't. This includes our mutual friend Jocelyn who hung herself the week I had my last chemotherapy shot. Why does it get <u>so </u>bad, that they can't bear the idea of continuing this wonderful thing that is breathing?</div>
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I think this is the number one question. When people hear about someone taking their own lives - okay, let's not mince words - killing themselves - the first question is <b>why</b>?</div>
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It's perplexing to most but especially to those like me - the poor bastards who have suffered being cut, burned and poisoned all for the sake of, you know, preserving life.</div>
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I wonder about the dichotomy of the two completely opposed mindsets: one feeling so hopeless they top themselves; the other so hopeful that they will do <u>anything</u>, endure <u>anything</u> for the privilege of just being able to keep going.</div>
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Here is the thing. </div>
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While I appreciate that suicidal feelings emanate from clinical, and possibly untreated, depression requiring good medical intervention, I do believe there are many ways in which most of us can successfully deal with dark days.</div>
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Many of you who have supported me since the start of my story will know that I speak from experience.</div>
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Dark days are like scenes of gruesome bloodbaths and incest on the show, Game of Thrones. They are inevitable.</div>
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So how do we get through them?</div>
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Here are three of my tips - which of course, you are free to take or leave. They may not work for everyone, but they work, in the main, for me.</div>
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<b>1. STAY CONNECTED</b></div>
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Having spent many a Sunday in an often claustrophobic football referee's room with, usually, men and boys, I am greatly aware of the vast human capacity for creating distance, no matter how intimate an environment.</div>
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It seems to me that modern man is at a greater risk than ever of so completely dissociating from his fellow humans, that even intimate relationships lack true connection.</div>
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I have learned one thing from the endless hours watching men silently feeling their balls - soccer balls I mean, you know, for suitable inflation. And I have learned the same thing from the suite of chirpy, one-sided conversations that seem to be the norm in my life.<br />
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The average person seems to have no interest in others. It seems most people I meet want <u>me</u> to do all the work needed to prop up the lamest excuse for a conversation or simply an interaction! <br />
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Sometimes they will telephone me. And the part of this so-called conversation that relates to me literally amounts to this: "Hello. How are ya." That's it. From then on, it has got to be about <u>them</u> or there is a vacuum: the kind of vacuum magazines like Take 5 were invented for.<br />
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These conversations are like pulling teeth ... or removing haemorrhoids if Trish is to be believed. They are if you must know, fucking boring - akin to the feeling of poking blunt sticks into my eyes or, if you want something less cliched, perhaps tipping a tin of scorpions down my knickers. Or bouncing on Clive Palmer's knee.</div>
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The thing is that showing an interest in someone else is a way of creating a connection. And, by showing an interest in someone else, guess what? You deflect your preoccupations away from your self, and instead to others. </div>
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So if you are feeling a bit down, why not pick up the phone and call a friend and... ask about t<u>hem</u>? Show an interest in <u>them</u>? ('Them?' Them?' I can see your eyebrows puckering now with this enormous revelation.)<br />
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But it's true. There is a 'them'. They're everywhere. You know. <u>Other</u> people who also have their own problems and issues and stories to tell. You would be amazed at how it might help you out of this self absorbed cycle of despair and depression if you tried connecting with 'them' and it's as easy as a telephone call.</div>
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Please, don't ring them so you can repeat your tedious story of self-loathing, self-flagellation, misery, failure, despair, and all those other problems that you think are so interesting they are sure to attract people to you.</div>
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No.</div>
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Because staying connected is about being unselfishly interested in others. <br />
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Try it! Trust me it works. There is simply no better way to forget your own problems than by focusing on someone else's and supporting 'them'. At the very least, it may give you an excuse for a nice latte together at your local coffee shop. So what have you got to lose?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>2. FIND A REASON TO LAUGH</b></div>
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As I was saying to Trish today, the ability to laugh is a uniquely human ability that is as natural to babies as suckling. </div>
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Amongst the first smile and first word, what mum doesn't remember the first time she heard her baby laugh? (It is up their with the first projectile vomit and the first run to the emergency ward).</div>
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The thing is that we can all laugh, but somewhere along the whole difficult journey through adulthood and into the nursing home, most of us seem to get grumpier and grumpier. And not to mention, grumpier!</div>
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But it is amazing what we can laugh at if we put our minds to it. Any situation can be ridiculed. Because it is all really silly, isn't it? Isn't life all one big Funniest Home Video if you <u>really</u> think about it?</div>
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And if you can't ridicule your own situation, find someone else's situation to ridicule.</div>
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The fact is that there are plenty of idiots out there and amongst that great ocean of stupidity is a lot of material that could make you laugh - no matter how you might be feeling today.</div>
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Look, it's very hard for me to give you an example here. Maybe it's difficult for most people to do. But I think you'll find that the funniest people actually have had the hardest road.</div>
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They just choose to see falling in a pothole and breaking your ankle not as a tragedy, but the funniest thing that has happened in a long time.</div>
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I suppose, it is a sort of alchemy that people with a sense of humour 'get'. Anything can be transformed into something a little amusing at least if you just accept that life is just one big slapstick event where people get hurt.</div>
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And in laughing about those moment when you fall, you may be surprised at how easily you are able to get up!</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>3. IMAGINE THE FUTURE!</b></div>
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I don't know if this is what hope is, but for me I think, this is it.</div>
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Quite simply there is nothing more exciting or motivating or inspiring than the future.</div>
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One tip I use to haul my self-pitying arse through the tougher times is, therefore, to think about all the fantastic advances humankind is yet to make. Or the fantastic advances I as an individual might make.</div>
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Why would I want to throw myself off a bridge when I might, in the future, just manage to memorise one of Chopin's Etudes and play it blindfolded? Or finally wake up to find that I am actually fluent in Spanish? Or learned to ice skate. Or finally not come dead last in a regatta?</div>
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Why would I not want to wake up tomorrow if it is likely that it may contain news of the first Flying Car, perhaps the settlement of Mars ,the cure for Parkinson's Disease, or a world where my son, Ben, hasn't actually ended up as a ditch digger?</div>
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The thing is the future could be an exciting place, regardless of what is going on in your own life right now. And you want to be there.</div>
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Look ahead and think about how it will feel when the sun shines on your face again. Just think how happy you may feel, or how elated to be inhabiting that exciting country that is the future: all those fabulous things that are yet to be?</div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, suicide claims around 2,415 deaths per year in this country.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">The highest age-specific suicide rate for males and females in 2012 was observed in the 80+ age group. After that, males aged 45-49 and women aged 50-59 were most likely to kill themselves.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">In 2012, about 75% of suicides were male and 25% were females.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">According to the Australian Institute of for Suicide Research and Prevention (based at Griffith University), there are approximately 900,000 suicides worldwide annually.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">WHO organisation data show that suicide is now one of the three leading causes of death among people aged 14-24 years. Males have the highest rates of suicide in Eastern Europe, while the highest rates of female suicides are in Asia.</span></li>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Every suicide affects around six people including family, friends and colleagues.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><i>In memory of Jossy, Hoody, and Numbers.</i> </span></span></div>
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bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-64506338167417387432014-07-30T13:57:00.001+10:002014-07-30T22:07:34.225+10:00A Great DayToday is a great day. <br />
<br />
Yes, there's the fact that it's a beautiful, clear, blue-skied day outside - crisp, clean, a day that might inspire poets, a day when I'm just truly glad to be alive.<br />
<br />
But that's not all.<br />
<br />
Today I made a fantastic discovery.<br />
<br />
Today I discovered I cannot write this blog while listening to Andrew Lloyd Webber.<br />
<br />
Okay, that's not fantastic - I would love to be able to concentrate while listening to Sarah Brightman singing 'Love Changes Everything' at 20000 decibels. Alas, it is not to be.<br />
<br />
Today I also took myself off for a DEXA Scan. According to the promotional literature, 'A DEXA is a unique scan that provide details on both your absolute (i.e. whole of body) as well as regional body composition.'<br />
<br />
Here is what I look like under the scan - a kind of middle-aged alien with a very lean chest and in bad need of a chiropractic adjustment (hahaha): <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2r8RUIDarqNGO4hM1l1EmoCOIFo1SuX9mbyUBw4JHZoP1rR-KVLNL2XqPEJ_DCVz0Ouls1f_8NAukTZ-KC9EoSd8kz75MRgAllJNIstZi43Nt5ugolR2kqSVGIRCRSMc0OEiddbNxGQ/s1600/Brons+Body+Comp+30-7.001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2r8RUIDarqNGO4hM1l1EmoCOIFo1SuX9mbyUBw4JHZoP1rR-KVLNL2XqPEJ_DCVz0Ouls1f_8NAukTZ-KC9EoSd8kz75MRgAllJNIstZi43Nt5ugolR2kqSVGIRCRSMc0OEiddbNxGQ/s1600/Brons+Body+Comp+30-7.001.jpg" height="400" width="158" /></a></div>
It wasn't really <i>that</i> surprising that I am still considered to be 'lean'. However, as lately I have struggled with loving my new dumpier, grumpier post-menopausal body shape - the kind that can't fit into some of my old dresses and where deposits of cellulite routinely horrify - it was surprising to learn that I am in the 8th percentile of body fat, meaning that there are 92% of women of my age group who are less lean than I am.<br />
<br />
It was not surprising that I am smack bang in the normal weight range. I knew that. <u>But </u>it was also surprising to hear Adam, the nice boy who ran the scan and who turned out to be a highly experienced dietitian, tell me that it was unhealthy to focus on any more weight loss at my age. <br />
<br />
'It comes down to if you want to be skinny and have what you think might be a fabulous body - or your long term health,' he said. Apparently, for me, the danger is that, as I am now on the other of that hill leading to decrepitude, enfeeblement, disability and possibly, uncontrolled farting, my obsession with calories means I may have too much weight loss as I age with various nasty consequences.<br />
<br />
Also, I discovered that I am starting to have some loss of bone density. The joys.<br />
<br />
I'm leaner than most haus fraus. Hooray! But that's not such a fantastic discovery either. It means I can continue to pander to indulge in the chocolate biscuit or three (a weakness as long as I can remember), guilt-free. Other than that - it's no big deal.<br />
<br />
The most fantastic discovery is this.<br />
<br />
Today I received a phonecall from my sister Fiona to report that Queensland Health has officially ruled that we are unlikely to carry the BRCA Gene. Not the 'Braca' Gene (which is how we BC'ers pronounce it). Not the 'Brica' Gene . Not even the Brica-Brac gene which, I have heard, may lead to a fetish for haberdashery.<br />
<br />
This means that neither of us really qualifies for gene-testing - which is the next step in this process.<br />
<br />
Our hunt for answers as to whether or not we are candidates for the BRCA gene began 18 months ago - and I believe it was all instigated by Fiona's health team. <br />
<br />
It seems a long time but, really, that's the time it requires for the system to establish whether we are even candidates for the test. This has required an arduous process of securing the full suite of the my close family's medical records - including my mum's siblings!<br />
<br />
Our family tree therefore has been painstakingly plotted and an array of forensic assumptions and algorithms have been applied by genetic scientists.<br />
<br />
As a result, Fiona received some detailed information about the lay of the land. Here is what I know based only on Fiona's phone call today.<br />
<br />
The unlikelihood of carrying the BRCA gene has been established in part by the fact that:<br />
<br />
A. We had identical cancers - lobular not ductile (representing only 10% of all breast cancers). That is, we are already in a minority.<br />
B. Both my mother and aunty were diagnosed with breast cancer after the age of 60. Apparently if they had been younger, it places us at a higher risk.<br />
C. However, this means that my sister Nicky remains at high risk and <u>must </u>be vigilant in having yearly - yes, <b>yearly</b>! - check-ups.<br />
<br />
And<br />
<br />
D. Nicky's three daughters will need to have regular check-ups from the age of 40.<br />
<br />
But here is the best news of all, the news that has lifted a weight off both Fiona and my shoulders.<br />
<br />
E. We are told that the sons of women with breast cancer are at a 50% higher risk of prostrate cancer. However, partly because we have had the lobular type, our sons are at <i>no greater risk </i>than the general population.<br />
<br />
That is a huge relief as I have to admit harbouring a tiny bit of guilt at the wealth of possibly disorders and diseases I might have genetically passed onto my kids (my Dad's family have not exactly been long-living) :-) At least we can sift the ole Prostrate Cancer from the murk of my complicated gene pool.<br />
<br />
But it's an even bigger relief when you realise what it really means to Fiona and I, or any woman with a diagnosis of breast cancer to be absent of the BRCA gene.<br />
<br />
Most of you will have heard of this gene, but how is it relevant?<br />
<br />
The BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene basically increases a woman's chance of developing breast and/or ovarian cancer.<br />
<br />
These two human genes produce the proteins that help repair damaged DNA and therefore play a role in ensuring the stability of the cell's genetic material (tumour suppressor proteins).<br />
<br />
If you have a specific inherited mutation in these genes, you're at increased risk of breast, ovarian and other types of cancer. These mutations account for about 20-25% of hereditary breast cancers but only account for around 5-10% of all breast cancers.<br />
<br />
If fate finds a succession of family members struck down with the disease, as my mother, Fiona and I have, then health professionals will consider the chance that this gene may exist in the family. <br />
<br />
That's because it places you at a much higher risk of ovarian cancer, a cancer that is extremely hard to detect. In Australia, the overall five-year survival rate for ovarian cancer is approximately 43% (compared to 89% for breast cancer). <br />
<br />
You can see why Fiona's health team believe it was worth examining the likelihood that we carried these BRCA genes.<br />
<br />
Their absence means is that both Fiona and I can hang onto our ovaries. There is no need for total hysterectomy or hysteria, in other words.<br />
<br />
I for one, am immensely pleased as I am rather attached to my ovaries. Oophorectomies, as they are called, have consequences of their own and I am glad to have avoided another operation.<br />
<br />
So for now, Fiona and I and our respective families can breathe easy. You might even say we are oopho-joyed!<br />
<br />
Today really is a great day.<br />
<br />
<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-91247184896920243822014-04-23T16:57:00.000+10:002014-04-23T17:42:12.331+10:00The Old MeToday I wake up and realise there is something important to celebrate.<br />
<br />
It's exactly 31 months since diagnosis.<br />
<br />
I know, it's an odd month to suddenly sit up and notice how far I have come, but hey, I am essentially odd, so screw it.<br />
<br />
This week has been pretty hairy. My sister Fiona had a problem with one of her implants and found herself in hospital for observation.<br />
<br />
She has been working pretty hard setting up her language school, completing her phD, fiddling around with a novel she's writing, while also managing a home of currently four children, one husband, a dog and a large garden. <br />
<br />
It doesn't take a genius to deduce she has been doing too much.<br />
<br />
I must admit, hearing she was sick sent me into a bit of a spin. You start contemplating all those 'what ifs'. And I realise that there is no greater fear than imagining someone you love might one day not be here.<br />
<br />
As it turns out and much to our family's relief, Fiona responded well to the antibiotics and was, in true Vander Poorten style, back to her stoic self in no time.<br />
<br />
But at least this speed bump gives Fiona and I another chance to talk about the thing that connects us even more profoundly than our sisterly genes. <br />
<br />
We talk about breast cancer and the emotional fall-out it leaves. I know I have alluded to it in one way or another over the duration of these chronicles. But truly, regardless of how things may appear from the outside, I would guess that most, if not all, women who have dealt with breast cancer must confront some fairly dark emotions from time to time. <br />
<br />
Even 31 months after diagnosis, I know that those emotions can flare at any time. The key trigger for me is fatigue. I know that if I do too much and reach a certain state of exhaustion, I will feel a surge of a familiar beast, lurking like a monster under the otherwise still waters of the loch.<br />
<br />
Indeed studies have found that as many as 50% of women who have a breast cancer diagnosis suffer from some form of depression and anxiety up to one year after diagnosis. But I daresay, there are many for whom the spectre lurks possibly for much longer - as it does for me.<br />
<br />
So perhaps the odd 'mood' is here to stay for a while. We shall see.<br />
<br />
Other than that, regular readers will recall how, in the early days, I noted how the smallest physical dysfunction would have me thinking that cancer had returned. Still, all these months later, the most benign occurrences - a raised lymph gland, a headache, a feeling of exhaustion or even a mere cramp in my scar - can have me panicking - albeit for a millisecond - and wondering if my number is shortly to be up. <br />
<br />
Actually, I think about the 'D' word quite routinely, in fact, each time I hear about someone carking it thanks to the 'C' word. I think about who will give my eulogy, the music I'll play, and the awesome poem I'll write so that everyone weeps so profusely, truck loads of Kleenex will be used up for the purpose. I think about my final days and fantasise about George Clooney appearing in a Tuxedo in his private helicopter to have a cup of tea with me on my death bed.<br />
<br />
But of course, I jest a little. Thinking about being a die-er, doesn't mean things <u>are</u> dire. They're not.<br />
<br />
I find that 31 months on, there are also many things to celebrate. Or at least, there are compensations.<br />
<br />
Physically, it's true that there are many things the old Bronwyn could do that the new one cannot. <br />
<br />
For example, arthritic fingers mean I can no longer open jars without the assistance of one of my blokes. (That or slamming the offending jar lid fruitlessly against a door jamb, in the hope that it will loosen).<br />
<br />
I used to be able to do 50 push-ups in a row. Now, I am lucky to do 10. <br />
<br />
I used to love the gym. Now I hate it as it is really a gallingly unsatisfying pursuit. Who can be motivated when you cannot see results? Post-chemo and into menopause, I can report that it is quite difficult to build muscle. So I've given up. Who cares. Anyway, you don't find too many women who are built like Arnold Schwarzenegger in nursing homes - although I have seen a few in nurses' uniforms (hahaha). <br />
<br />
Additionally, I am still unable to run, owing to permanent damage to my ligaments. This has put paid to any dreams I might have had of becoming a small time thief, as chances are I would not be able to make a speedy getaway.<br />
<br />
Not to be deterred, at 24 months since diagnosis, I joined a rowing club as you will know. Now three mornings a week, I join my crew of eight or my doubles partner and now very good friend, Cath, for a session on the Brisbane River. I love it but, I have to sadly admit, not as much as running. However, I do think I would love it more if I had my own personal Nepalese Sherpa to carry my boat into and out of the water. It's the most onerous part of this sport. That, and being confronted in the early mornings by the sight of 60 year old gentlemen in tight-fitting zooties. (I say Jeeves, has anyone seen the family jewels?) <br />
<br />
I try really hard to keep active. On most Mondays, I walk 10 kilometres with Lee, and do shorter walks when I can with Spunky. As Al and I are now located in the CBD of Brisbane, I've been enjoying discovering the sights and sounds of the inner city.<br />
<br />
On Sundays I still referee and am making a slow graduation to the Senior League where I now more routinely share a pokey dressing room with a bunch of cocky grown men - as opposed to cocky young boys.<br />
<br />
Next week, I am going back to golf now the weather is cooler.<br />
<br />
Yes, my feet are still painful in the mornings, but I have developed ways to focus on the bits that don't hurt and it actually works a treat! <br />
<br />
Yes, I do have dodgy joints and terrible arthritis in my fingers but if I don't think about it, it's amazing how it simply ceases to be an issue. But I also take a daily pharmacopeia of supplements to cope, after consulting the Arthritis Australia website: fish oil, magnesium, Boswalia (an Ayurvedic herb), this amazing mineral called SAMe, calcium and Vitamin D. And alcohol. Actually, that's not for arthritis. That's just because I am a fan of a nice sauvignon blanc. <br />
<br />
Yes, my hair is thinner and coarser and more unruly than it once was, but I am now used to it and besides - you would be amazed at how much time you save when all you need to 'do' your hair is towel dry it and run your fingers through it.<br />
<br />
All in all, I am chugging ahead like the Little Red Train. I sincerely believe that "if you think you can, you can" and Dr Poh See was right from the start. It is always mind over matter.<br />
<br />
But that's not what I really wanted to celebrate.<br />
<br />
Mentally I think I'm doing okay. What I am most proud of is the fact that my memory has returned - and I keep working on it. I do small, easy things. I practice remembering shopping lists and recipes without writing them down. I play Scrabble. I do the odd crossword. I am teaching myself Spanish. I am addicted to quizzes. I drive down new roads if I can as I believe this is good for the brain. I try not to lose things (easier said than done). <br />
<br />
Emotionally, as I have said, things can be a bit up and down. But I take supplements such as Selenium and SAMe (which is also supposed to also assist mood) and, importantly, I work hard on not doing too much because I do fatigue much more easily these days. In other words, while being constructive in the vertical position, I also believe the horizontal has much to commend it - especially if it includes a good book.<br />
<br />
Finally, spiritually, perhaps I don't fondle my rosary beads so regularly. But I do sometimes send short prayers of thanks heavenwards, discounting of course my frequent usage of the phrase 'Oh My God' and perhaps just the very occasional 'Thank Fucking Christ' (with apologies to any judgemental Christians out there).<br />
<br />
All joking aside though, it is my deep and profound belief that I would not have survived my cancer ordeal if it had not been for my faith in the fact that, at the very least, Jesus was a good bloke with some pretty decent suggestions on how to get through the Shit that is Life. You can pooh-pooh (if not Eeyore-Eeyore) religion if you like, but there is something about believing in a kind of penultimate goodness that is the buoy we need when the going really gets tough.<br />
<br />
But that is not what I really wanted to celebrate.<br />
<br />
What I want to celebrate is this.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I found a pair of black pants in Harry's cupboard that clearly looked too small for him. A Size 8 pair of Country Road pants. As I know for a fact that my son is not a cross-dresser, I believe that the garment was most likely to be mine and had mysteriously slipped past my post-cancer cull.<br />
<br />
You see, I thought I had given away all my Size 8 clothes. (My beloved collection of dresses and trousers are probably now most adorning the wardrobe of a svelte Sudanese refugee somewhere in the arse end of Logan).<br />
<br />
So what to do but try on this rogue pair. Would I fit? First one leg then the other, then up to the zip and will it? Will it? <br />
<br />
Yes it will! The trousers fit! <br />
<br />
To celebrate PRESS THIS LINK!<br />
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<a href="http://www.hallelujah-chorus.com/audio/hallelujah-chorus-9MB.mp3">http://www.hallelujah-chorus.com/audio/hallelujah-chorus-9MB.mp3</a><br />
<br />
So stuff the depression and the arthritis and all that other crap, man. Who cares?<br />
<br />
I fit back into my jeans!<br />
<br />
Because you know what that means?<br />
<br />
It means the old me is still here!<br />
<br />
That's really something to celebrate, don't you think?<br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-38037029362857913252014-04-09T17:26:00.001+10:002014-04-09T18:39:59.301+10:00Plastic Surgeon 3It's a momentous day today in more ways than one.<br />
<br />
Today Al and I celebrate 20 years of marriage. It's nothing short of a miracle that we have weathered two decades without murdering each other. Or at least needing a rolling pin.<br />
<br />
They say that it takes just two words - 'I Do' - to create the world's longest sentence.<br />
<br />
Sentence or not, the occasion has me pondering the basis of a basically successful marriage - with all its highs and lows.<br />
<br />
Al and I have certainly been through thick and thin: richer, poorer, sickness, health.<br />
<br />
Before I married, my mum - an inveterate matchmaker - used to tell my sisters and I that the secret to a good relationship could be nutted down to one thing: a commonality of interests.<br />
<br />
I hope she is right because to this extent, Al and I have ticked a few boxes. We met about 23 years ago when, after returning to Brisbane after a sojourn in London, a mutual friend, Jeff, told me about the need for a flatmate in the house he shared with Al.<br />
<br />
Very soon after moving in, I discovered Al and I had a record collection that was almost identical. I discovered we both loved throwing parties. We both enjoyed what was, back then, an occasional hit of golf. We also discovered a mutual love of art (creating it, admiring it). And of course, we are from a similar profession: I work with graphic designers, and he works with PR Consultants.<br />
<br />
Philosophically too, Al and I seem, in the main, to connect. We both agree that birds should not be caged; spiders and snakes should not be killed; animals should not be hunted. We agree that U2 is overrated; that the best hotel in the world is in Sri Lanka (the Kandalama designed by Geoffrey Bawa); that Malcolm Turnbull should be Prime Minister; that the Coen Brothers rock; and that 'Black Comedy' actually translates to 'Not Funny'.<br />
<br />
But we have our differences - and plenty of them.<br />
<br />
For starters, I think being 'hot in bed' is a menopausal symptom and Al, well I don't think he would be too impressed to find George Clooney (in a G String) lying spreadeagled between us. :-)<br />
<br />
Al doesn't like coriander (heresy to an Asian) and I despise parsnips (that horrible root vegetable that looks like a pale, geriatric penis and which Englishmen like Al insist on roasting).<br />
<br />
I believe in reincarnation, the hereafter and chiromancy while Al rolls his eyes seeing death as final and Evolution making a monkey of religion.<br />
<br />
He likes fishing while I would rather watch Clive Palmer playing strip poker. (Fishing is sooooo cruel!) He likes buying everything second hand (except maybe for undies) while I do actually like a new thing or two (especially undies!).<br />
<br />
His idea of relaxation is soft music, a massage, and candles. Mine is abseiling down a cliff. With a dagger in my mouth. <br />
<br />
But in the main, I think Al and I make a relatively good match. 20 years since we walked down the aisle, we are relatively comfortable with each other.<br />
<br />
And that's a really good thing because today is momentous in another way.<br />
<br />
Today I pay another visit to my plastic surgeon, Dr Lily V.<br />
<br />
Following my SatNav on my way to Sunnybank, I am pleased when I remember which way to turn on Beenleigh Road to reach her office. Not so long ago I would have driven aimlessly the wrong way and got half way to Ipswich before realising...<br />
<br />
When I arrive it is all very familiar - the waiting room, the receptionist. I flick through a copy of 'The Breast is History' while I wait. (It's part of a sales pitch I will deliver to her in the hope that she'll BUY A BOOK).<br />
<br />
I have to wait about 15 minutes before Lily can see me. She hasn't changed at all. She is still trim, beautiful, professional.<br />
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When she asks me how I am, I slyly tell her I have WRITTEN A BOOK, she makes an appearance in it.<br />
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But it really is important to explain why I am really here.<br />
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Today I explain to her that I have decided that I don't really want to go through any major operations for the sake of two lumps. I tell her about how my sister Fiona had breast cancer (it's all IN MY BOOK) and had a 'oncer' and I was wondering if I could have the same thing.<br />
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I am only interested in an 'instant' reconstruction if possible and, if not, I want her to just tidy things up around my scar and I'll call it a day.<br />
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Lily asks me to remove my top and expertly feels around my chest.<br />
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There is an unsightly piece of skin hanging under my arm that I would like removed if I am unable to have a reconstruction.<br />
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Lily says this is called a 'Dog Ear' and is quite common.<br />
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After I put my top on, she says that it is unlikely I will be able to have an implant on the radiated skin.<br />
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She says she can cut away the dog eared bit under General Anaesthetic. She said the scar will extend further under my arm.<br />
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I will need two weeks to recover as she says radiated skin does not heal very quickly.<br />
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In the mean time she notices the way I am scratching the cheloid scar on the other side. She says that, if I like, she can inject that with cortisone while I am 'under' as this can settle the itching.<br />
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She says it cortisone injections have to be given under anaesthetic because they are very painful. That is, in my view they most likely hurt like both fuck and buggery combined. Two or three injections will be needed to completely stop the itching and apparently, my scar will go <u>purple</u>!<br />
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I ask her if there is anything she can do to help get rid of the cheloid scarring. <br />
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'Do you know why there is no cheloid scarring on the other side?' Lily asks. When I shake my head she explains that apparently, the way to get <u>rid </u>of cheloid scarring is actually radiation. <br />
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The problem is that, while the radiated scar looks nice and pale, radiation has otherwise fucked my skin. In fact, the radiated side seems to sag much more than the other side. It is much too loose (if not Lautrec) to be able to hold up a silicon implant. The only way I can have an implant is with the help of a created or introduced 'muscle'.<br />
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In other words, the chance of an instant implant are pretty much zilch.<br />
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As I have been expecting this news, I am neither upset nor surprised.<br />
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We agree that I will have my 'Dog Ear' tidied up.<br />
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Lily writes out a few instructions and tells me she will leave it up to me as to when I will have the operation.<br />
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As I rise to leave, I decided to forget all that subliminal crap. I overtly pat the cover of my book. 'So are you going to BUY MY BOOK? YOU CAN BUY this on my website. The Breast is History.Com' I tell her, staring into her eyes hypnotically.<br />
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Lily blinks. "Yes" she says, zombie like. "I plan to buy 1000 copies. In fact, I plan to buy 10,000'.<br />
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Unfortunately, I made that up. What she really says is: 'Sure'. Meaning, 'as soon as you have left my office I will forget about you completely, you pathetic and desperate dog-eared bastard.'<br />
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At the front desk, the receptionist tells me Lily has only charged me for a follow-up visit ($90) as opposed to the $220 that is a new consultation. Yes, that is very sweet of her... But I take this opportunity to tell the receptionist that I have WRITTEN A BOOK and how difficult it is these days to SELL A BOOK.<br />
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I hope this means the receptionist too will BUY MY BOOK but she appears to be obstinately disinterested and wants, instead to tell me about her friend who wrote a film script in French. Who fucking cares? I want her to BUY MY BOOK!<br />
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In the car on the way home, while I wonder why no bastard wants to BUY MY BOOK, I think about the fact that in possibly a few months, the whole saga of Nicky and Paris will be well and truly over.<br />
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Making this decision has taken me months and months. Al has said that he is going to leave it all up to me. It is all about how I feel about it, he has said.<br />
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So how do I feel? How will I feel knowing that I am never to have breasts again?<br />
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I think I feel OKAY (especially if more people, you know, BUY MY BOOK). <br />
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It is true that sometimes I do feel a bit sad about the memory (Mammary?) of breasts and what they represented - that whole idea of being still healthy, carefree, unaffected by cancer, unaffected by much at all.<br />
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It would be a total lie to tell you that I am completely and totally fine with everything that has happened.<br />
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It is true that, just the other day, I shut my eyes and rubbed my chest, trying to remember what it felt like to actually have a breast.<br />
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It is true that I am sometimes startled by the lack of sensation on my chest - the fact that it feels basically numb.<br />
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But it is equally true that I don't sit around pining for what I was before all of this.<br />
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It is true that I have come to acceptance. Of my ruined ice creams. Of it all.<br />
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My Buddhist forebears would be proud. Especially if Dr Lily, her receptionist and everyone reading this blog BUYS MY BOOK!<br />
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Yes you can BUY MY BOOK at www.thebreastishistory.com. It is also available on Amazon so if you live in Outer Timbuktu, you too can BUY MY BOOK. And, after you have READ MY BOOK, I would appreciate it if you would leave a review.<br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698046104389681530.post-50238272256149897352014-03-20T11:22:00.001+10:002014-03-20T11:36:48.945+10:00Happiness Day!Today is an important day.<br />
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Today I have an author talk at the Loganholme Library where, based on my ill-conceived first author talk at Logan Library <u>last</u> week, I am expecting exactly no-one to turn up. <br />
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I am also expecting a frustratingly nonchalant librarian to make some lame excuses for the illiteracy of her usual clientele, and perhaps purchase one book as compensation. <br />
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Either way I'm happy. I'm happy that I'm actually getting out there and giving this a go. And I'm happy to be able to meet another librarian and maybe sell one book.<br />
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Which brings me to the other reason why today is important.<br />
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Today is International Happiness Day, a day when we can all take a moment to think about what makes us happy, to do something that makes us happy, and to perhaps ponder what happiness might mean to each of us.<br />
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Philosophers and poets through the ages, of course, have oft pondered this thing that is "happiness'.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Mahatma Gandhi reckoned: “Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Tom Bodet said; “A person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.” </span><br />
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However you define it, more than anything, we all want and need to be happy. <br />
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However, the clutch of recent celebrity suicides of late - namely Charlotte Dawson and Mick Jagger's girlfriend, L'Wren Scott - do have me pondering the inability it seems of those of us who <u>should</u> be happy, to be so unhappy that we contemplate the otherwise unthinkable.<br />
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We all have our theories but here is mine.<br />
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Deep Unhappiness I believe springs from a lack of self-awareness, leading to a lack of knowing what is important to and for your well-being and, as a consequence, a focus on what I'll call the '<i>wrong</i>" things - that is, wrong for you.<br />
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The great conundrum is that in these days of 'selfies' and blogs and Facebook and constant contemplation of the self, despite Dr Google and all manner of charlatans and gurus spruiking an encyclopaedia of quick fixes for the soul, most people it seems hardly know themselves.<br />
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Every day, as I participate in online blogs and observe the meanderings on social media, I am constantly struck by this phenomenon we professional communicators call 'dissonant thinking'.<br />
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That is, that many people can hold ambiguous and competing ideas simultaneously - and not even be aware.<br />
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Never mind that, these days it seems many of us struggle to be authentic. We are botoxed and siliconed and photoshopped.<br />
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We are afraid of originality and instead cut and paste and plagiarise. It is so chronic in fact that human resources executives these days must also be professional lie detectors.<br />
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We work hard to Tweet and Facebook an often perfected version of ourselves. It's all about 'personal brand management' isn't it?<br />
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Amid all of this, it is not difficult to see how some of us at least will struggle with self awareness.<br />
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We will lose touch with who we <u>really are</u>.<br />
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And the day comes when well, we are unable to be happy because the person we are trying to make happy is not really ourselves, but a contrived version of ourselves.<br />
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The thing is that to be a happy you, you must firstly know, well, <u>you</u>. <br />
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And importantly, you must be happy being you. That is, you must accept yourself cankerous growths and all. In this way, you will communicate to the world that, you know what? Rich, poor, thin, fat, ugly, beautiful it doesn't matter. You love<u> you</u> and they can too!<br />
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Secondly, to be happy, you must know what helps you to <i>continue</i> to be happy being you. Is it a place? A person? Something you do? Perhaps striving for a goal? Does it involve changing or not changing? <br />
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Finally, to be happy, you must then actively pursue and create the environment where you can effect the above. Be You, and Be Happy Being You.<br />
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In other words, finding, creating and maintaining your happiness takes commitment. If you want to smell the roses, go out and find them. Work for them, buy them, borrow them, grow them. (But don't steal them as I believe a prison sentence may stem from the thorny situation of being caught filching flowers).<br />
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So what what makes me happy? Post Cancer there is something surprising I've discovered.<br />
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The things that make me happy are not actually the big things you might imagine - such as LIFE SUCCESS, or POTS OF MONEY. Or even finding George Clooney in my bed (in a G-String).<br />
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Instead I see that a sense of happiness is derived from the small routine things that comprise a life such as: doing something you enjoy (such as marching with a bunch of old bats while beating a drum); finding something to laugh at (such as my sister in her Cottontails: we are a <u>sexy</u> family okay?); coffee with a friend; a good discussion with your husband or partner (or in my case, any stranger I meet); a hug from a child (I'd even settle for a pimply teenager); and even a lick from my dog, beside himself as I have just walked in through the door after leaving him for approximately one minute.<br />
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In short I have come to believe that true happiness comes from finding everyday joy from the small things that validate the fact of our existence: that establish a connection between us and the thing that is actually being <u>here</u> (as opposed to Mars or Manus Island).<br />
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I feel that as long as you feel <u>here</u>, sensate and engaged in some way with the world around you and the people in it, it is possible to really understand what it means to be happy.<br />
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It can be as simple as appreciating the act of breathing in, and breathing out.<br />
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Happiness, for me, in other words is ultimately about the relationships I <u>actively</u> nurture with people and places.<br />
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Yes you can actually nurture it. All it takes is desire. You must want it.<br />
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More than anything I am passionate about the belief that you only have one life to live. It cannot be rewound and lived again. Your life is forever lived in fast forward so guess what? You don't get another chance. (Elvis has left the building, and that's alright Momma, you old Hound Dog, he ain't comin' back in no Blue Suede Shooz). This is <i>your</i> life and you deserve to be happy in it - not someone else's.<br />
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Whatever you need to be happy, if you desire it enough, there is a way to find it or get to it.<br />
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So what are you waiting for?<br />
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Somewhere, someone has a rose with your name on it.<br />
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It's up to you to go fetch.<br />
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<br />bronwynhopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084646751713102751noreply@blogger.com0