Next chapter – new adventures.
So a deliberate intention to start as I mean to live. A life at a more gentle pace. Relaxed and blessed with simple pleasures. A little taste of luxury, a gentle wander in the beauty of nature. Grateful and happy. A new way to live.
Starting the day with a relaxing facial and massage. Brunch filled with fresh, healthy flavours. A gentle wonder through the rainforest. Finishing with a bit of hairdressing glamour.
I’m going to like this retired business!
The large group of 70 year olds, always one more woman than man – so annoying they supposedly don’t live as long. But talking, men on one side of the table, women on the other. Do the women gather around the solo women I wonder? There is always one man who is more interested in eating than the people.
The very proper couple. A testament to the belief that Alice bands never go out of fashion and that your pink cardigan can be tied around your neck – pink because it matches your pink sensible walkers and pink toned pants. So considerate that he wore his colour toned shirt too. We make a very smart couple.
But to my surprise she stops on her way out and compliments me on my necklace. Apparently I’m smart too!
There are the tables of three – normally a daughter or grand daughter taking their oldies out. How often do you see tables of a son or grandson taking the oldies out? Is that one of those unsaid caring duties women do?
And like me – the solo travellers. We brave people who eat alone and are fine about it. Not that we are necessarily single we just don’t begrudge ourselves the pleasure of eating lunch out, even when it is a table of one.
I am a little different to my fellow dinners with their sensible walking shoes and luxury of time. I am on a short stop over between work destinations, sitting with my high heels on. But instead of dashing from one place to the next, thinking I’ll grab something on my way through, I stopped off. Or more importantly I stopped. I stopped to enjoy the view of the botanical gardens. I stopped to enjoy the beautiful smoked salmon on sour dough. I stopped to enjoy my watermelon and mint juice. I stopped and look around – and someone gave me a complement. Sometimes you need to just stop.
Let’s be nice to each other again…………………
Is it just me or is there a growing acceptance, even enjoyment of watching and being mean to each other? I see it at work, on the TV, in parliaments and on the roads. When did we stop being nice to each other? Why did we stop being nice?
I was watching some mindless TV the other night – one of those reality shows that seem to clog our screens now days – and once again it was people whinging about it each, getting stuck into each, going to “sort the other person out” or actively shunning another person. It is argued that people who sign up for these things know what they are getting into, and in fact the producers “select” types that they know will cause dramas. Is that the sad part – they know we want to see the dramas? They know we will “love” seeing two of the contestants arguing or calling each other mean names behind the other’s back. How can “love” and “mean” be in the same sentence?
So what did I do – I switched channel. I thought no I don’t want to see this, and if enough people do that then the ratings will drop and maybe they’ll change this.
Another “sanctioned” place of abuse is in our Parliaments, where I’m afraid cowards hide behind parliamentary privilege. The concept of parliamentary privilege is a good democratic principle based on being able to let the truth come out.
The principal parliamentary immunity is the immunity from civil or criminal action, and examination in legal proceedings, of members of the houses and of witnesses and others taking part in proceedings in Parliament. This immunity is known as the right of freedom of speech in Parliament, because it has the effect of ensuring that members, witnesses and others cannot be sued or prosecuted for anything they say or do in the course of parliamentary proceedings. This freedom of speech has always been regarded as essential to allow the houses to debate and inquire into matters without fear of interference. [http://www.aph.gov.au/About_Parliament/Work_of_the_Parliament/Parliament_at_Work/Parliamentary_Privilege]
Unfortunately we see this privilege being used to bully witnesses at inquiries; make allegations without evidence; speak about someone derogatively; or to circumvent the laws of otherwise legally binding findings e.g. revealing people’s names when they are not allowed to be released. These are the people who we have elected to “represent” us – do they really represent how you think people should be treated?
Don’t even start me on election campaigns, especially the US Presidential campaign where apparently it is a strategy to win votes by being as mean as you can about the other person so you “connect” with the voters. They want to connect by being mean – how is that helping a nation to be “united states”?
So what effect does this have on us? Do these things change our society? Does it change us?
When I did the quintessential google search on the effect of being mean vs being nice there are hundreds upon hundreds of sites with research and reasons why being nice is so much better for both your mental and emotional health. You apparently live longer, suffer less mental illness, and are more likely to be successful and respected.
For me being kind is to be human and don’t we all equate being humane to acts of kindness, even if those acts are hard to do. Is that the answer then – is being mean just easy, and being kind requires an effort. Are we that lazy? More importantly do you want to be known as a lazy person?
I’m no saint. I find it hard to be kind to rude, disrespectful people especially when I’m tired, or you just know they will see your kindness as a weakness. But if I don’t try then I am no better than they are, and I don’t want to be that way. Life is too short to be unhappy, so I’ll put on my armour of kindness; my shield of humour and my sword of love, and maybe I’ll slay one of those dragons! Because you know what, I’d rather be nice.
I’m sure you’ve all read articles or seen celebrities interviewed where the retrospective question is asked “What would you tell your younger self that you know now?”. Some talk about being brave, realising you aren’t alone, stop having the self-doubts and to be your true self. Always thought provoking, it is meant to show our wisdom, how we have grown, and on the whole, that it will work out okay.
If I was asked that question I would probably tell myself, that I was actually much cleverer than I thought I was at school. I didn’t think I was “smart” enough to go to university unlike my school friends who all knew what they wanted to study post-school. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t think I was dumb, but I didn’t think I could be say a lawyer or study psychology. I know now that I could have been.
I would also probably tell myself a tough fact, that love doesn’t fix everything. You also need respect, trust, individuality and equality in a relationship. A lesson I learnt the hard way from a very bad first marriage that went on far too long.
That probably comes to my third lesson. Don’t settle for second best. I still to this day struggle with this. Stopping myself from saying “that will do” when I know in my heart and mind it isn’t okay. I need to work for, ask for, and expect more from myself and others.
The problem with the retrospective question is that I can’t really go back and tell that girl those things. Also it is easy to think that even if I’d know this advice I wouldn’t have done the same things, or maybe made worse decisions.
So are there better pieces of advice to give myself – right now? Why wait another 20-30 years to give good advice? What should I be telling myself now? What are three pieces of advice I want to give myself now?
Obviously post broken leg/hip and finding out that I have osteopenia, I need to focus on my physical health. So regular exercise, specifically weight bearing exercise and a focused healthy diet. So my advice to myself – start looking after this now so you never have to go through this recovery again. This is your chance to make a difference to your physical health and to stop this from getting worse, or happening again.
Next, stop trying to fix the things that can’t be fixed. Buy that replacement plant – that one in the pot is never going to be more than a sad pathetic bunch of twigs with a few leaves. Stop waiting for people to do the right thing on their own. They are either selfish and probably won’t change, so ditch them, or ask them straight out to do something rather than hoping they’ll share the responsibility. It is good to try, but you also need to know when to stop trying when it isn’t going to change.
Lastly, remember to fill my life with the things and people I love. Yes, I have to go to work to earn money but do I really want to apply for the job that is filled with toxic people and ambiguity? It is easy to be seduced by the next pay level, but is the extra money worth it?
I need to make the time for travel, art galleries and seeing the people I love. That means getting things organised so I have the time and resources to do it. This ranges from getting the things done in my house like my kitchen refurbishment, so I enjoy entertaining again, through to seeing a financial planner to do a review of my retirement plans so that I can keep travelling. Also asking others to step up rather than trying to do it all and becoming overwhelmed or resentful. I only have so much time to give, I need others to help out more.
There are and will be other lessons to learn, but I want the future me in 20 or 30 years to say ‘Do exactly what you did, well done. What a great life.’
I currently only one “good” foot. My other broken one, well leg, is mending, too slowly for me, but definitely on the mend. I only need one crutch now and can weight bear 80% on it, but the last step is going to be a tough one. Walking without a crutch is going to be tough.
We’ve all heard the motivational rah-rah that a journey starts with a first step. Sounds easy doesn’t it. Just head off in that direction and you’ll be right. I’m not so sure it is that simple. Problem is that it isn’t just one step, it’s another, and another etc. I agree that you obviously can’t start a journey without starting with that first step, but what if you find your path is circular and you end up back at the beginning again? Do you take that first step again? What if that step feels virtually impossible? What if the pathway has a road block?
I started doing a bit of pool rehab today. Just walking, without a crutch, up and down the lane, trying to lift my knee and walk in a straight line. It was certainly easier in the water than on land. I have tried walking unaided on land, and I limp badly. At least in the water it was easier, and on the most part comfortable. I still had trouble though walking in a straight line. My leg muscles just don’t work properly at the moment. I felt the disappointment well up inside as I realised I was a still a long way off being able to walk properly again. And as for getting back into heels……………..well that seems at the moment like it is a very big mountain to climb.
Sometimes though putting your best foot forward isn’t just stopped by a physical disability. Sometimes it is also an emotional barrier, a financial roadblock, or the lack of knowledge to know what to do.
Tonight I am about to take another step that I haven’t done for a while. I’m going out on my own to watch a friend perform and to have a glass of wine. Unfortunately the couple of people I hoped could join me can’t come for very legitimate reasons. It was a last-minute plan anyway, so I don’t blame them. But you see I hate being on my own on Saturday nights. Most nights, I can cope with being on my own, but for some reason Saturdays get me. I have lovely Saturday’s planned for the next couple of weeks, but in the last 3 months I have spent every Saturday night except one on my own. It gets lonely. I was not going to go out tonight to a pub alone but then I thought, no, tonight you have to do something different, you have to take that first step. It will be better than sitting on your couch alone.
I wear a ring that I bought in Edinburgh on my first overseas trip by myself some 15 years ago. I bought it so that when I think something is too hard to remind myself that I thought that travelling by myself would be hard, and it wasn’t. I took a big first step back then, I have a lot more first steps to make.
The other thing that I did today. I went and had a pedicure with bright red nail polish. I wanted my poor old leg to feel better about itself. My poor feet have been doing it tough for ten weeks now, and there are lots of steps to go, but at least tonight when I put my best foot forward – it will look fabulous!
Yesterday I had a bone density scan. Part of a check to see if there was any underlying, undiagnosed issued as to why my femur broke. By the way, the irony that I broke my leg/hip during Healthy Bones week has not been lost on me.
I am happy to report that apparently my spine is really healthy and in the “green” range. My hip (well right hip as they can’t measure the left one now because of the screws) is just within the “orange” range or what is called Osteopenia. I am now at low to medium risk of a fracture from a fall – well we’ve already proved that haven’t we! It also means I can do something about it not becoming osteoporosis which I am really happy about. That means increasing my calcium intake (more cheese please), ensuring I get daily Vitamin D (lovely walks in the sun) and weight-bearing exercise (from walking to gym weights!). For more information, I encourage everyone, but women especially to have a look at the Osteoporosis Australia website it is really great.
But this post isn’t really about bone healthy. It is about living life to the full because you can not predict what the future holds. I didn’t think five years ago I’d be sitting on my lounge with a broken femur. I realised this morning that five years ago the decision had been made to stop palliative chemo for my lovely husband because we knew that it no longer was helping and it wasn’t worth him being so unwell. The decision was for him to live what days he had feeling the best he could be. Five years before that we were planning our return to Australia from the UK to get married.
A lot can happen in five years. So what about the next five years? Where will I be in five years time? Will I still sitting on a couch at home and under what circumstances? That’s the thing – you can’t know! You can and should plan. You should put the effort in to make sure you reach that point in the best shape you can be – physically, emotionally and financially. There is also a need to realise that some things will never be in your control. So it comes back to now. What can I do now to have the best life, the best day, and hopefully influence that day five years down the track?
Have long-term goals, but don’t sacrifice a life now for them. Educate yourself to reduce health risks – type 2 diabetes, osteoporosis, mental health. That doesn’t mean though that you avoid all desserts from now on! Get financial advice to allow you to enjoy that healthy life, but don’t live a life of austerity now to achieve that. Most of all though, go to bed each night knowing that everyday you tried to have the best day you could. Then realise this – if you can have the best day you can every day for the next five years, what an amazing five years that would have been.
I hope I do this story justice. I hope I can tell it the same way it was told to me, so that it brings a tear to the eye when it is read. That is what happened to me when I heard it yesterday. This is a story of a different path to true love. Not my story, but one told to me by my very intelligent, very eloquent and lovely taxi driver.
To get to my early morning appointment at the Fracture Clinic I had booked a taxi. My ride arrived on time and a young Pakistani man was my driver. We started chatting straight away obviously about my fracture and how long I’d be on crutches. We talked about the support of families and friends. I said my husband had died five years ago, and he said to me but you are young you could marry again. I said maybe but I hadn’t fallen in love again.
He said his father had passed away when he was 12 and his mother had raised the three boys and two girls in the family. He spoke proudly how one of his sister was a professor at a university back in Pakistan and how his other sister was an electrical engineer living and working here in Australia. He had started a degree back in Pakistan but had stopped when he’d got a visa to come to Australia. I asked if he’d studied since then and he said he’d done an HR qualification, and I thought here you are driving my taxi – what a waste. We spoke of the importance of education in Pakistan and how his mother ran a school there. He tried to get her to visit more but she got bored quickly here and needed to go home. I jokingly said he should have some grandchildren to distract her. He quickly said, oh I have a beautiful son and he thanked Allah for him. He then told me how he met his wife.
Four years ago he went to visit his mother and was meant to be staying for a visit for two or three months. What he didn’t know was that his mother and a close family female friend had decided that at 31 it was time he had a wife. The family friend knew another family and negotiations had occurred and a meeting had been arranged. My driver’s mother said to him tomorrow we are going on a trip, and make sure you are dressed nicely. The following day they set off a three-hour drive to another city. When he asked where they were going, he was quickly told to not be so curious but he soon gathered from their discussions what was occurring. He was shocked. This wasn’t the point of his trip home, it was meant to be a holiday, not to find a wife, but he told me that his mother was very strict and what she said was to happen – happened!
Upon arriving at the house he was taken to one room to meet the father of the young lady, who was an air force officer. He was asked what he did which at that time was a student, and they talked for about an hour. Then he was called into another room where the young lady was sitting with his sister and mother. She was shy and quiet and didn’t look up. He said all he saw were her feet. After 40 minutes, the meeting was over and they left, but ultimately the proposal of a marriage was agreed. A week later they married.
At this point of our journey I am wondering how I felt about this arranged marriage story. Then he told me something. He didn’t see his wife’s face properly till the day after their marriage, but when he saw her for the first time he said “I fell in love with her instantly. She is so beautiful and we are the absolute support for each other. I love her with all my heart.” He then proudly showed me photos of her, his little boy and another with his wife with his sister. He showed me with pride and love. Her wedding attire was a traditional colourful tunic, uncovered head, simple and beautiful.
By this time, we had reached the hospital and I thanked him for such a wonderful trip and that it had been an absolute pleasure to meet him. I told him he had bought a tear to my eye – I also gave him a tip (oh and by the way I noticed he turned off the fare metre before it ticked over to a big number about five hundred metres before he dropped me off).
We are so quick to judge, stigmatise and stereotype other cultures and beliefs. It is a world away from our western ways with our big lavish white weddings. I’m not so naive to think that all arranged marriages are so successful. What I do know is that I met a lovely Muslim man from Pakistan who was proud of his two sisters, his mother and who loved his wife with all his heart.
When I started this blog it was for a particular reason – a count down to my 50th birthday. I can honestly say I enjoyed every day that I wrote about the happy, sometimes very simple, joys in my life.
I tried to maintain the momentum once I had returned to full-time work, but I struggled. I struggled on a lot of levels. I went backwards in a big way but I did the right thing I sort out help. I tried to write but it didn’t flow, it wasn’t the right time. I did however resist the urge to close the blog down, something stopped me.
A lot of things have changed in the last nine months or so. I went on a first date after being on my own for four years. While there were a few more dates after that, it didn’t go anywhere, but it was a big milestone. I started down a new path and there have been a few other first dates since then.
I changed jobs returning to the local government environment where I am much more engaged, challenged and happier work wise.
Three weeks I go I bought a “dream car” and 
she’s red! She is called Bella so I can say Ciao Bella every day. I love her, I love the heated seats
in Canberra winters, and I feel fabulous driving her. Bella loves to go fast and so do I.
And then two weeks ago on a Sunday morning, I simply fell over in my lounge and broke my left hip/femur. A simple fall and I can’t get off the floor. So a trip to hospital, three screws and big wound, and a pair of crutches called Gin and Tonic later I’m confined to home unable to load bear on my leg for six weeks (two down – four to go). I can’t drive the beautiful Bella; I’ve been given a lecture by the GP to rest and to forget about trying to get back to work early; and life is set to pause for a while.
I cannot say how blessed I feel. This may be a strange reaction. Yes the break hurt like hell, crutches are frustrating, I have struggled with loosing my dignity (hospital gowns) and independence, but I’m blessed. The support, help and love I have received from my family and friends can not be described adequately with words. I’m not surprised because I already knew how wonderful they are, but I feel like I have been lifted up and couched in a gentle cloud supported by their hands.
So as I now spend most days lying on my lounge I am reclaiming my life. How often are we given a gift to pause, to stop and reassess, and to be supported while it happens. It may not have been a decision I made but was forced upon me, but I’m taking it with both hands (because I can’t run with it obviously). I am planning my rehabilitation which will include making sure I take a break from my work desk and getting some Vitamin D from the sun each day; I’m thinking about long-term physical goals (originally walking the City to Surf, but I’m thinking now walking the entire length of the Sculptures by the Seas next year); I’m also planning ways of thanking all those wonderful friends and family.
I’m not through the woods yet. I still have some medical matters to tick off, and last week I had a day where I shuffled through three different emotions – practical wait and see what happens realist; the optimist saying it will be fine; and the little girl who was very scared.
Today I went for my first check up with the surgeon – I’m healing well and he’s happy with my progress. I also had a lovely taxi driver who actually told me such a beautiful story it bought tears to my eyes but I’ll tell you that story another time. My lovely friend picked me up afterwards and I celebrated my first progress step with a beautiful gateaux.
The other blessing is that I felt like blogging again. I am going to reclaim this happy activity with the plan to blog at least once a week about the beauty I find as I wander through this life. So as I sit here on my lounge in beautiful sunshine, my world may be on pause, but I feel blessed because it is like I’ve been given a chance to reclaim things that matter.
As you may have realised I like to share happiness, kindness and of course love. So I want to tell you about a kind and thoughtful act that happened to me last week.
My little car is not new (Ava the silver goddess is now 8) and only recently I got two nasty dings finally fixed so she was looking pretty good for her age (reminds me of someone else I know!). Okay she’s not flawless and she’s no longer new and flash, but she’s always been reliable and most of all zippy!
Last weekend I’d popped into the Canberra Centre to do some retail therapy and was walking back to Ava who was parked in the basement car park. As I approached I saw a man, probably around mid 30s taking a photo of my little goddess. As I walked up I asked why he was taking a photo of my car. He looked around slightly embarrassed and explained that he’d bumped my girl when he was parking his car next to mine. My heart leapt as I thought “No I’ve only just got the last lot of dings out!” Then he pointed to three small black plastic marks, no more than an inch long, on the wheel arch on the passenger side. I bent down and felt the marks – there wasn’t even a dent. It is purely a bit of his bumper plastic on my paint. I’m sure it can be easily removed, and if not the marks aren’t exactly horrendous anyway.
Then the young man gave me the note he’d written and had placed on my window. In the note he apologises, describes where the marks where on my car, gave me his full name, car registration number and phone number. I was blown away with his honesty. In a world that always seems to be avoiding responsibility, looking for an easy way out and hoping to shift the blame, this stranger had done the right thing. He could have so easily just moved his car and run away. I probably wouldn’t have even noticed the marks straight away because they are on the passenger side of the car. Instead he took responsibility and offered to make amends.
I looked at the man, his car which was much older than mine and I thought to myself “You know what I’m going to repay his honesty by completely letting him off the hook”. I said straight away “Thank you for being so honest. They are tiny marks and easily removed. Don’t worry about it”. He looked at me as if he didn’t quite believe me. “Are you sure?” he said. I smiled and said “Absolutely. Thank you being so honest. I really appreciate it.” I then got in my car and drove off.
I love my little car, but it’s still only a car. For me seeing such wonderful human behaviour is far more important. Here’s hoping that this becomes the norm again in our society. Imagine what a lovely and peaceful world it would be if we took responsibility for our errors but then rewarded that honesty with forgiveness.
Today I took a leap. A very big leap. I did something that was on my bucket list and something I couldn’t do nearly 40 years ago. I jumped from the 10m tower of the Civic Olympic pool.
When I was a young girl I went to the pool on and off. One visit I tried to be brave enough to jump off the top tower. I even walked all the way up to the top only to have to walk back down again, pass all the others going up. I always wished I’d be brave enough.
This week the Government announced that sadly the pool is likely to stay closed when it finishes for the season at the end of the month. There is a significant leak, somewhere, and they are loosing incredible amounts of water every week. My sister, who knew of my bucket list goal, dared me to fulfil my goal before the opportunity was gone forever. So today I took up the challenge.
To say I was nervous for the last 24 hours was an understatement. My two siblings agreed to meet me at the pool at noon – isn’t that when gun fights happened in the old west! I asked the pool attendant at the shop if the tower were open. She said not at the moment, but it was up to the life guards if they opened it up. So we went to find the life guard. I explained what I wanted to do and why, and asked if I could jump just once. He said he’d have to check with the other life guard. We watched from a distance and I sensed things weren’t going well, so we walked down. Apparently they weren’t allowed to open the tower unless there were three life guards on duty. My brother tried to persuade them and we thought they were swaying, but then fortune shined on us, as a third guard arrived for his shift. We were on.
They turned the sprinkler on to apparently soften the water (not sure it worked!) and then ominously they got their back board out in case of emergency – this didn’t fill me with confidence. I then started that ominous climb again behind the guard. As I waited on the step for him to unlock the gate I could feel the panic rising. What was I doing? Am I mad? I don’t think I can do this? No I had to do it. Everyone had gone to so much trouble for me to achieve this one thing. So I walked up onto the platform. The lifeguard asked me if I was still going to do the jump? I said yes and walked to the edge. He told me to lift my arms when I jumped and then to put them by my side. I practiced a few times. I then very slowly and very gingerly walked to the edge. I paused. I paused some more. I kept saying to myself just walk off. It will be over in less than 10 seconds. You just have to walk off. I could hear my sister and some kids urging me on.
And then I stopped thinking and I just walked………………………………….
It was really fast, not that I saw anything as my eyes were well and truly shut. It was definitely not an Olympic scoring dive as I basically landed on my bottom and thighs (I have the bruises to prove it). I could hear the slap of the water when I hit and I won’t lie – it hurt! BUT I DID IT! I conquered my fear. I did something I couldn’t do before. I took the leap.
As I swam to the shore the life guard asked if I was okay. I said yes, but that I was never going to do that again. My sister and brother were applauding me. My sister said she was so proud of me and gave me a big hug. My brother hugged me and laughed. It was a lovely moment for the three siblings, just shared between us.
Was it a metaphor for taking a leap of faith in life, to not being afraid anymore. I don’t know, maybe on a small level. I feel good that I did achieve something that I couldn’t do all those years ago. I’d also proved that I may be 51 but I still have a go. I also know that you should never share your bucket list items with your siblings because they might call you on them (only kidding!). I’d also advise people to maybe review their bucket list for things that are maybe age appropriate, because this 51 year old body is feeling very sorry for itself tonight, however as my sister said bruises will fade, but my glory will live on.
Sometimes it is just good to leap and not to think about it so much.
wanderingthoughlife 