Sensory play

Yesterday I looked after Poppy solo for a few hours while Rose supported Star to go driving – she’s doing brilliantly as a learner! I decided it was a good day for some sensory play. I baked pear and rhubarb muffins while Poppy played with bread dough, ripe pear, and lavender flowers. Then we went outside in the light rain in the garden. Poppy played in the dirt and ate parsley leaves. I weeded the roses. It felt amazing. So alive and connected. I love finding these moments of calm amongst the busyness to just marvel at my daughters and my life. It’s hard work, incredibly hard work and long hours. I don’t think I’ve ever worked harder than I have these past couple of months with home and parenting and business and talks and face painting. But such a joy! 

Then we had a bubble bath together and washed away the dirt. Poppy napped in her hammock after nursing. I did a load of washing and drank a hot Chai latte and did an hour’s work. It was blissful, reading through research methodologies with a hot drink while my sweet baby slept.

I find I shift between feeling very connected and feeling like I’m babysitting someone else’s child. Working outside the home Mum challenge? Times like this seem to click things for me – when I’m caring for Poppy by myself, able to focus on her needs and get a bit of rest for myself too. I feel lighter and closer and my heart opens up. I’m pulling away from the idea that only one person’s needs can be met at a time. Sometimes that’s true, but sometimes thinking it must be that way all the time makes it hard to act differently… sometimes what Poppy needs is also what I need. Looking for the overlap there’s rich experiences there, a kind of synergy and peace. Exploring the garden barefooted in the rain. Blowing bubbles at each other in the bath. I didn’t know I needed that but it was exactly right. What we call sensory play for her we call grounding for me. Different language, same connection. ❤

I’m visiting America!

I’m very excited to announce that I will be coming to California towards the end of June 2017! I have been booked to speak at an event and I’m very looking forward to it. This will be my first time in America so I’m open to suggestions about travel, accommodation, people to catch up with, things to do and see. 🙂

So, if you are in America and would like to invite me to anything; to collaborate on a project, set up some training or education, facilitate a workshop etc then please get in touch! You can learn more about my work here. There will never be a better time as my expenses will be very low given that I’m already in the country. I’m also looking for an opportunity to host an art exhibition while I’m visiting. Talk to me if you have any ideas!

Poppy is still breastfed and Rose is my anchor so we are currently trying to work out how we can put together the funds to bring them both along. (Star has a flight phobia so she won’t be joining us)

This really does feel like my year 😀

I’m doing a lot of thinking for work at the moment and it occurred to me in the small hours recently that sometimes I’ve missed something important about being authentic. It’s a beautiful and tender kind of vulnerability to show one’s imperfections, lacks, losses, and pain. The soft underbelly we have all learned to hide, the tears we cry in secret. But it’s another kind of vulnerability to show our gifts, what we are good at, where we are shiny and brilliant. I’ve wrestled with that. I recall being in therapy at one point talking about how I developed the model for the peer based support group for people with multiplicity and/or dissociation and how I facilitated it, and having the trauma psychologist gravely inform me that I was describing highly skilled work for which I should be getting recognition and pay, work that few people could do. I filed that away and still struggled to write glowing resumes or really capture and share what I can do.

Right now my artwork adorns postcards and the website for the SA Mental Health Commission and I’m secretly afraid of people calling up to yell at the Commission for not choosing a better artist. Right now many of my friends employed in community services are looking for work in a sector struggling with the new NDIS funding model. So, after years of them being employed while I’m job hunting and trying to define my skills and find a place I fit, things are reversed. I’m so full of passion and joy. I’m a little afraid of sharing how wonderful things are when people around me are hurting. And I’m afraid of showing how brilliant I can be when most of us learn as kids that the fastest way to be hated is to get top marks on your assignments. I get wonderful news and run around to all my friends like a puppy dog – will you still like me if I’m successful? Tall Poppy Syndrome is scary.

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The only reason I even know about the artists I love so passionately like Tim Burton, Michael Leunig, or Amanda Palmer are because they found a place in the world for their skills and some kind of success. It didn’t make them lesser people, it makes me lucky to be able to share in their work and enjoy what they do. So I’m being brave and putting some more language to my skills. And people around me are being kind about how scary this feels to me and helping me figure it out. I have finally taken the next step in my brilliant career! It fits with my commitment to be human and show in public what we hide in private. I love what I do and I’m good at it. I’m eyeball deep in frameworks and models and designing brilliant approaches. And my art is on display, communicating ideas in the universal visual language. Life is wonderful.

America, here we come!

Amanda Palmer and Poppy

Rose, Poppy and I all went off to see Amanda Palmer’s concert last night with our friend and her 8 week old baby. It was amazing and both little ones were brilliant. They nursed, slept, and played in almost total silence (we had baby earphones for both during the louder songs). Towards the end Poppy was really keen to watch Amanda performing and started to ‘sing’ along to the songs. We were in the second row so during a quiet moment Amanda heard her and she and Rose had a brief conversation about her. I can’t tell you how amazing it was to be listening to her stories and songs about her little boy and life as a Mum with my own deeply loved baby on my lap, nursing at my breast, or standing on my knees to watch.

It was a stunning and bittersweet evening. Amanda was feeling sick so she didn’t stay for signing and meeting like she usually does. I was inspired by her and her beautiful strange friends as I am always am – Amanda treats her fans with the respect of fellow artists which is something I love and try to emulate in my own small way. She is deeply and undeniably human, constantly pulling back the glamour of fame to show the pores of her life. Maybe because I’ve just finished her book it didn’t feel like meeting someone famous, more like touching base with a very successful friend I don’t see very often. That’s part of her magic though, her ability and willingness to be authentic and personal. She’s a huge inspiration for my own art and writing. She’s worked incredibly hard and taken a lot of risks to build her career. I also felt a little sad that my life has moved me away from such wildness and strangeness in my own art. She seemed so free and unconstrained, while my fears and my inclination to adapt mean I’m always trapping myself in small boxes then breaking out again. There was such beauty in the evening and an odd kind of grief. Family. Children. Distance. Art. Love. Regret.

Walking back to our car we happened upon Amanda pulling away in hers with a couple of friends. We waved goodbye and she realised we were the fans in the concert with the baby. She hopped out and gave Poppy a cuddle. There’s a kind of ache I’ve known my whole adult life, a hunger for the weight of a child in your arms. It’s precious beyond measure to have Poppy here at last – Facebook is reminding me that this time 2 years ago we were head over heels in love with unborn Tamlorn. Over the next few weeks the status updates in memory will change to grief and anguish. When we’re apart from our babies we miss them in a physical way, miss the smell of their skin, the silk of their hair, their weight against our chest. It’s beautiful to be reunited with them and precious to be allowed to hold someone else’s for a little while. We all had a tired hug and went on our ways into the evening. It was a beautiful night.

A week of firsts!

Rose, Star, Poppy and I are all adapting to some huge and wonderful changes. I’ve been fortunate to have been contracted on some fantastic projects where I’m getting to stretch my brain and hone my skills. Digesting lots of information, exploring a variety of frameworks, working closely with a small team… there’s a fierce joy in me at getting to do what I love to do and pushing myself further than I’ve gone before. It’s not enough to sit safely on the sidelines, critiquing. Wrestling with language, concepts, assumptions, models, evidence, diversity, communication, connection, being part of creating something. It’s such a pleasure to work. I dress up in good clothes, and go away and work hard at something that’s deeply meaningful to me, with people I respect, and I get paid. The chronic struggle between Rose and I, each saddled with the role we want least, her with a job and me at home, has eased. There’s a calm and a peace as we settle into the roles we’ve most wanted all along and feel best suited to. 

I have done my first pump at work, carrying home precious bags of milk in an insulated lunch bag with a freezer block. Trying to figure out what to write on the sign on the door so no one walks in on me partly nude. It feels so strange and vulnerable! I’m very lucky that there are many women in my workplace who are mothers who once nursed and are sympathic and supportive. 

Rose has done her first 9-5 day with Poppy without me to nurse. She’s also done her first working from home where I care for Poppy. Rose cried a little to leave her. I took Poppy to play on the grass next door so she couldn’t hear every little grizzle and feel her heart ache. She came back brighteyed with pleasure at stretching her work wings again. Star is making sense of her third week of year 11. Star, Rose, and I have each been navigating renewed contact with cut off family members. The process is delicate, painful, hopeful, disappointing, exciting, and triggering. New bridges and fresh starts take courage and work and the risks aren’t always rewarded. Change everywhere. 

Transition is challenging.We’ve never done this before! We are stepping into the unknown and drawing on the grace and experience of others. Anxiety is high and rough nights with teething leave everyone short of sleep and limping along unable to shine the way we want to. I’m watching and noticing where the stress is and what’s working and what isn’t. I ride the waves of my stress, insecurity, and numbness, far out of my comfort zone but knowing I can do this, that this is where the growth is, where the opportunities are. This is what I’ve been working towards for so many years. 

If I can navigate the extreme stress of painful life changes like homelessness without self destructing then I can deal with self doubt, imposter syndrome, and new roles with patience. Tending myself, tending our family as we navigate new roles and routines and resources and pressures. Stretching us and getting a sense of our strength and capacity, where our joy lies, where our limits are. Building the routines that keep daily life running, and shaking loose of the schedule when we all need to break away a little, breathe a different air under a different sky. We are in the spring time of our family, all growing towards a bright sun.

Multiplicity Interview at Radio Adelaide

Today I was in at Radio Adelaide with Suzanne, being interviewed for a half hour conversation that’s going to be aired tonight alongside her beautiful documentary I the Many, We the One. 

You can listen online at 6pm Adelaide time to hear Sue and I discuss multiplicity, and the delicate and skilled process of sharing people’s personal experiences safely in a way that finds common ground while honouring diversity. The documentary is not just an interesting topic but a really beautiful and nuanced storytelling with poetry, voices woven together, and music written specifically for the piece. It’s stunning, and she won a major award for it!

If you miss this interview you will be able to catch it for the next 4 weeks on their website under the Listen Again option on Story Chaser, just select Thurs 16th Feb. Sorry for the late notice, I didn’t realise it was airing tonight!

You can also listen to just the documentary I the Many, We the One over at CBAA.

We have been discussing holding an event later this year to celebrate the documentary and the lives and work of people with multiplicity. If you would like be involved or can contribute a venue or opportunity, please get in touch. 🙂 sarah@di.org.au Visibility is important.

 

Enjoying my work

I’ve had a wonderful few arty gigs this weekend, my anxiety low and my joy in being around kids and doing something creative high. It’s been a pleasure. The more I make sense of my ideas and values around professionalism the more I’m relaxing and able to be myself. I even shared a bit of lunch with the delightful family of a sweet 4 year old after creating glitter tattoos for her and her friends. 🙂


Even more magically – today while I was away face painting, POPPY DRANK 150MLS OF EXPRESSED MILK! Rose are I are ecstatic. This is a huge breakthrough for helping to reduce stress and anxiety around work. What a champion. 😀 It’s been a lovely couple of days. 

Some days you win

Today Rose held down the fort while I got a very needed sleep in. Then we swapped and I got Poppy to sleep on my back and did the dishes, cleaned the kitchen, hung a load of washing, planned dinner, and walked to the shops for ingredients. Some days you win.

My three lovelies have all been down with the flu. Sickness is hard. Yesterday all three were feverish and miserable when we had a blackout. Rose had the great idea of going to the beach to enjoy the cool wind there. It was beautiful. On the tough days I have to work so hard to contain my fear that I’m not enough, not good enough, not up to this, and that it’s always going to be this hard. Last night my beautiful girls cooled off in our van by the ocean while I read James Herriot by a battery powered lamp to them. Just like my Mum did for us.

I stood in the rain and felt it wash something dusty and old and indefinable from my skin. I splashed in the puddles and drank rainwater from the roses in my garden, sweet with the taste of the petals. The magic still works. I’m a Mum and so new at balancing all these needs and managing my anxiety and wearing so many different hats. I rocket between bright joy and deep contentment and intense frustration and jagged fear. But out in the night under the sweet water falling, I’m still who I used to be. Still enchanted by the world.

I don’t know how to balance it all. There’s days I give and keep giving, I turn myself over and over into what those around me need and I do it gladly or I do it through pain and exhaustion. I do it because that’s my job and I know how it feels to be young and to need someone.

There’s days I make time for myself and find I’m not sure what I need anymore, that I’m numbed and confused and it seems easier to keep giving instead but I can taste the trap in that, the way needs get disconnected and met secretly. I sit at white canvasses and hate what I draw, eat foods I don’t like, feel empty and twisted. The less I listen to my own heart voice the harder it becomes to hear.

And work too, my other great joy, trying to find how Mothers do this. How to stop my work being a kind of alarm that rings under all my time, telling me I am not doing enough and should be doing that instead. To be where I am and rest into plans and schedules and embrace the messiness and uncertainties and compromises with joy. I have worked so hard to have some kind of career. I have to remind myself that it’s okay to be inexperienced and uncertain, that it’s okay that I crave this other part of my life, that I need it too and that it also brings me such joy.

I’m so new at this. When my children are hurt or in danger there’s a panic in me like an atom bomb. I let it go off in the desert in my chest and keep breathing calmly – we’ve got this. My beloved Rose, so generous and kind, sleeps a million miles away on the other side of our bed and I find whole weeks go by where I barely kiss her and the ever present guilt – good enough partner? good enough mother? – drives me further away. But when I ask myself to be selfish I run to her across the room and dive into her arms. I remember my sweet love.

She holds Poppy and I burn my candles at both ends for short windows, replying to emails, painting, taking calls and making plans. Art comes to life all around me. A hailstorm of hope and relief. This is my place in the world. This is the work of my heart. And then the small hours, not doing but being. Poppy nursing by my side and the fuschia blooming through the window in tiny pink fireworks. Stroking Star’s hair. Sitting in the garden with a friend. Stirring soup on the stove. God in the small things. Another load of nappies pinned to the line.

Looking for the patterns through it all. Ways to be present, fully, all the different parts of me that need to be here to breathe the air. The children grow so fast while I am looking somewhere else. The opportunities wither if not grasped. I am loved and valued. My world is a garden full of life and I’m tending it, learning how to grow each different thing. Beyond grateful at my good fortune. Spending my self completely in these things I adore.

Free Hugs

This is my week deserved Chai latte at the end of a long and full few days. Parenting continues to be wonderful, amazing, consuming, and overwhelming at times. Balancing everyone’s needs and the available resources is a process that requires constant attention and fine tuning. I learn things all the time. There’s a kind of cycle like the seasons. Periods of blissful happiness, times of crisis that require intense focus and effort, breakthroughs that ease the storms into calm, sunny days. 

This week’s discovery has been that Poppy relaxes in a pool. A relaxed Poppy nurses better. I am now 5 days into no serious bites while nursing, following three long swims together this week. I’m ecstatic. 

I’m also working on various art projects and thinking deeply about some amazing (paid!) contract work I’m doing in the mental health field. Trying to understand my role in the grand scheme of things; how to be of the most use, and make the greatest difference, and ethically engage with the opportunities. I feel so honored, excited and sobered at the same time. It’s a rare joy to be using my skills like this. 

I’m starting that dance of motherhood between self and other. Between the boundaries of my roles and relationships, trying to find that elusive balance – what I need to recharge and my responsibilities and joy in being there for and with my family. Who am I now? How much adult functioning can I do before I need to rest and be a child again? If I can turn myself into what everyone around me needs, how do I find my way back to self? 

I miss writing here. Sometimes it is easy to share, others I am too swamped in doing to reflect. There’s no time and no words yet, and when I try the words are wrong. The stories are someone else’s and don’t fit. Or too raw yet for words. Stories that are not entirely mine to share. And worse – I lose sight of you, who I am writing for. Why I am sharing. My reader goes from friend to stranger in my mind. This sharing becomes exposing. The extraordinary act of being human in public overwhelms rather than liberates me. I am tongue tied and mute.

Small moments remind me, like my lovely new mug from close friends. Free hugs! I have always written to people like me – struggling to be more alive. Vulnerable. To myself, 15 years ago. My friends and fellow artists and dreamers and madmen. We the brave and bewildered and afraid and amazing. I’ve so much to tell you and no time in which to say it. Life is beautiful and painful and I’m wrapped up in the daily intensity of it, exactly where I wanted to be. 

I hope you are traveling well too, in the thick of things or the quiet reflection, in grief or hope or bold new adventures. Going boldly. Being human. Wrestling with the night. Thankyou for what you do. Thankyou for being part of my story. Free hugs for you. 

Growing 

I have had a wonderful, brilliant, exhausting day. I was up until the early hours finishing an art project I can’t wait to share with you all. I’m now home with Poppy sleeping peacefully in my lap, chatting with friends online and winding down. I’m still blinking with surprise at how beautiful my life is, my precious family, my lovely home. My kitchen is full of delightful pastries and my fingers have ink on them – all is right with my world.

Today we drove up to the hills and I saw a new therapist and talked about last year and my experiences of profound connection and then profound loss. We both wept a little, the therapist and I, talking about those experiences. That’s a good start and a hopeful sign the conversations will be productive. I’m working on a great many things at the moment, my severe anxiety among them, and I feel that things are changing and growing and getting unstuck. I have been very brave this past few weeks, many times, and I feel like a plant that cannot help but turn its face to the sun and reach upwards.

Having rested from advocacy work for a good stretch following the devastation of last year, I have found myself cautiously taking up the role again and feeling that passion and hope stir within me again. I am afraid of flying too close to the sun, of too much stress, too little wildness, too much unpaid work and containing other people’s sad stories. So I’ve set up two guardians and asked them to watch me and warn me when I’m wearing thin. Rose is one, she has always championed my work and art and watched me both fly and fall. I’ve also reached back out to my old supervisor and booked in regular contact. And now finding a regular space for my own struggles too – I’m hoping I’m setting up the care I need to protect me so I can take risks and do useful things, and manage the anxiety that comes along with putting myself out there.

Then we drove quickly back down the hill to the city. The highlight of today was being invited to the SA Mental Health Commission  for afternoon tea alongside the other 11 artists who’s work were selected for display in the office. We all brought our art in today and it was a joy to see it all together. The work of mine they selected was a beautiful large gilded print of She Blooms. I feel very honoured! It was wonderful to meet the other artists and I wish I could have spoken with them all. I don’t often get to hang out with other artists with a lived experience of mental illness and I know they will have amazing stories. It was also lovely to spend a little time with the staff and meet the people who chose these works and hear why and what they mean to them. It’s wonderful to be standing in a mental health space again but this time with my identity as an artist front and centre. One foot in mental health and the other in art, it’s always been what has worked best for me.

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Myself with Mental Health Commissioner Chris Burns

New art in my Etsy Shop

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I have updated with my Etsy shop with three new artworks – The Gap, Rainbow Baby, and Feeding the Monster. It’s taken a lot of work to organise! I’ve had to sort out the prints, photograph everything, work out all the weights and postage costs for domestic and international, and so on. It’s a bit frustrating but I’m happy to have good, clear descriptions and lovely professionally presented artwork. 🙂

It’s been a tough couple of days here – Rose had her wallet stolen a couple of days ago and unfortunately the thief used all her cards to empty the accounts before we realised and blocked them. It’s been a huge rigmarole since to try and replace all the ID and other cards. Sadly the cash, gift cards for Christmas gifts, swimming multipasses and so on are gone for good, we are still hoping we might get some of our money from our accounts back once the banks have investigated. It’s horrible and demoralising.

On the lovely spirit of Christmas side of things of course we are always so lucky with our tribe who have helped out with food, loans, or gifts. I feel sad and embarrassed to think of all the people who aren’t fortunate enough to know so many kind, generous, lovely people – I’ve been there before and I know how lonely and difficult hard times can be when there’s no one to lend a hand. But I also know that being part of community means giving and receiving, and that when we set ourselves apart from other’s kindness there’s a kind of snub to it. Star was trying to pay for things from her savings and after rejecting her offer several times I realised she was hurt and frustrated, so she paid the $17 fee to get Rose’s license re-issued. We are all stronger together. Thank you so much to everyone who has helped us out with practical or emotional support, my anxiety has been pretty high this week but we’ve all hung in there and we’re doing okay.

Celebrations and meditation 

This is how we are celebrating 

  • Poppy cutting her first tooth 
  • Star finishing the year at school with awards 
  • Passing our rent inspection 
  • A very good week with new contacts and opportunities for my art and mental health work 

And is how I’m going to wind down from meeting a lot of new people, having a lot of exciting opportunities possibly open up (which I’ve learned to be a little careful about counting before they hatch), and the inevitable come down from sharing personally in a presentation yesterday. Staring induces dissociation or, if you want to put it a different way, induces a meditative, restful state. Same thing, different language. 

Staring deeply into a fire is one of my life’s true pleasures, along with the glorious smell of wood smoke on my skin. 

In about 20 minutes there’ll be some potatoes in those coals and I’ll be here, thinking about how I used to have the hearing voices group around for these, remembering dead friends, and talking about the future. I step out of the everyday and into another place where time runs differently. The night will fall and the stars come out like memories of fragments of poems I once read. I’ll be here with my daughter in my arms and the smell of smoke in my hair. 

Ink Painting: Gothic Rose 

I’m having a pass out miserably on the couch kind of week following more dental work. Poppy is in a wonder week and unsettled and needing extra love to get to sleep. She’s developing at a rapid pace, she’s just started rolling over on her own. It’s amazing to watch her figuring it all out. And a little bit scary. 

So, have a peek at my new ink painting. I’ve enjoyed being able to develop so much in my art lately, it’s been wonderful. I’m in the process of updating my packaging for my prints and adding some new ones to my Etsy store. I’ve also finished 20 ink paintings to illustrate a podcast I’ve recorded. Apart from the background anxiety and haunting sense of failure which sneak attacks me at times, there’s a lot of peace and contentment here. And laundry, of course. Lots and lots of laundry! 

Ink painting: Stripey cat

I’ve been having a wonderful time with my inks lately, in the evenings while Poppy sleeps. I’ve restocked my Etsy shop with all the prints I’d sold out of over the past few months, and been happily painting and getting ink on my fingers again. This wonderful stripey cat  turned up quiet without any plan the other night, and tickled my fancy. It feels incredibly good to be combining art  and motherhood. I am so happy at the moment. ❤

Feeling Inspired 

I had a wonderful day today. Rose and Poppy and I took the bus into the city because the car seat really upsets Poppy. We attended appointments and roamed and window shopped between them. I bought a new pad of watercolour paper because I’m working on a project that’s using up a lot, and a water mixable oil paint because I’m trialling them in a couple of different brands to see if I like them and can get away from solvents completely (important in a home studio shared with small children). I’m feeling very inspired, and excited to share my project with you when it’s finished. 

Poppy was being adorably cuddly today – she’s graduated from physio for her tongue tie and is now feeding well and putting on excellent weight. Rose snapped this photo of us having a cuddle while hiding from the hail in a cafe. ❤

I’ve cleaned the house, weeded the garden, frozen breastmilk, bought paint and paper, and started a new book and a new art project. I’m as ready as I can be for major dental work tomorrow. Fingers crossed for no complications and a quick recovery! 

Poppy in Spring 


We pulled weeds in the garden recently. It feels like she’s starting to get her fill of cuddles and she’s actually wanting to be put down to explore the world from time to time now. It’s simply amazing to watch her develop. 
Is been a funny kind of week, rather wonderful and also quite distressing at times. The other evening, Poppy was unsettled through the early hours so I was up with her. I crawled into bed next to Rose at 9am seriously annoyed with the universe and ranted about how fed up I was about everything. Rose, wisely, kept quiet and snuggled in. Cuddles make everything better. 🙂

Then we went off to a babywearing group and I learned how to wrap Poppy, and still had my ranty pants on. Apparently that was quite welcome! I feel so much more comfortable in parent groups that are more alternative, it was refreshing. It has occurred to me that many of the Mums who approach parenting as a role they have to fit into and hide who they are to do well at probably have that approach to the rest of their lives too. That’s not how I live so it’s unlikely to play much part in my parenting either. Now that Poppy is here a lot of the fears and sense of being pushed into roles or to behave in certain ways have eased. I feel a lot stronger and less vulnerable to dumb advice. (not invulnerable, just less) 

I was thrilled to sell some prints through my Etsy store. I get great pleasure from wrapping and posting them. It inspired me tonight to clear a lot of boxes and things out of my studio and into the shed so I can once again reach my art desk and inks. I’m feeling inspired to create. 

I also touched base with some great people and secured a couple of public speaking gigs, which is always so exciting. Something about this work just makes my heart sing. 

I got some warm feedback about my authenticity being inspiring. 

I also discussed the possibility of holding my exhibition Waiting for You down south somewhere for those folks who couldn’t attend it in town. 

My life is incredibly hard work at the moment – loads of housework, admin, caretaking, providing emotional support, sleep deprivation, and the rawness of post-partum. At times intense frustrations and fears spill over. Other times there is simply the joy and bliss and pleasure of tending to my family and enjoying being a Mum. I’ve been inhibited by trauma and a kind of survivors guilt, always aware that I’m so fortunate and many others are still hoping for or grieving their dream children. It feels like I’m letting go of those things and sinking gradually more deeply into my own life, my own path and experiences. When I hold Poppy my hands wake up and feel alive, like they do when I make art. I’m so incredibly glad to be here. 

Watch “Introducing Poppy” on YouTube

I’m frequently asked if I can put something on YouTube, so people can hear my voice and listen to my talks. I’ve never been able to get a quality recording of a talk, and there is the problem with giving away what’s currently my bread  and butter – this blog already contains a mammoth amount of free content. However, I’m currently looking for creative projects I can do while nursing or settling Poppy or cuddling her while she sleeps as that’s most of my life at the moment and I’m restless to create and a bit bored of watching the box. 

So I’ve been exploring some apps on my phone and recording my voice and using some skills from a digital storytelling workshops I did a few years back… And it’s been a lot of fun if a bit frustrating at times, but it’s incredible what can be done simply with a phone and one hand free lol! I’m really impressed at the quality of some of the technology now available. It’s not as pretty as a project I spend a week on my computer at, but it’s passable enough to share online and fits my current circumstances well! 

Here’s a little example, a tiny slideshow about Poppy. 🙂

Caught in a dissociation loop 

Figuring out what triggers your dissociation can be a time consuming process. There’s an inherent challenge in noticing the cue for an experience that by nature reduces your awareness. Anything can be a trigger, however subtle or obscure. There will be a story behind each one, a logic to it that makes sense once you put the pieces together, but when you are at the start of in the middle of that particular jig saw puzzle, often things seem random, unpredictable, and bizarre. People often feel totally defeated and crazy. It’s a huge challenge to believe that things will make more sense down the track, and to hold on to the possibility of recovery.

Something worth keeping in mind is that dissociation can be its own trigger. What first sets  something off and what sustains it can be very different processes. Because dissociation is often a response to some kind of overwhelming stress – and because experiencing dissociation can be overwhelmingly stressful, it can be very easy to get caught in a loop where the dissociation triggers itself.

Not everyone experiences dissociation as stressful. For some people, dissociation is sweet relief from intense feelings or overwhelming pain. (see Understanding Emotional Flooding) It is the anaesthetic of life, the calm in the eye of the storm, the still peace of an animal doomed to die. For others, even massive dissociation comes with its own emotional disconnection that shields them from the impact of their experiences. People may describe amnesia, derealisation, or depersonalisation with a kind of numbness or indifference, as if they are telling a story that happened to someone else. However, not everyone gets this emotional buffering – or not all the time. For others of us, we are intensely aware of our dissociation, and fighting against it. We may feel as if we are behind glass, or underwater, or buried alive, or dreaming and unable to wake up, but the struggle to feel more real and connected is terrifying when it’s unsuccessful. Trapped in a psychological limbo with no way home we can become frantic and distraught.

When dissociation is our own personal fuse box, blowing out whenever the stress is too high, the stress of our dissociation can trigger more of it. The more distressed we are by it, the deeper it gets, and the more distressed we become. Fear can be a powerful trigger of dissociation, and experiences of dissociation can trigger intense fear and helplessness. Severe dissociation that we don’t understand, have never seen in others, have no language for, and can’t seem to make stop can be a very traumatic experience. When we better understand our experiences, learn a language for them, discover that they are normal, universal – not only to humans but to mammals, protective, and can be endured and worked with to resolve it – our fear diminishes. Our sense of powerlessness can ease when we understand that our brain is trying to protect us and is not the enemy. Our sense of loneliness and alienation can calm when we find that dissociation is extremely common but merely infrequently spoken about, a large if hidden aspect of the human experience. It is possible to learn more and fear less about dissociation, to be able to feel the triggers and foresee the disconnection without terror, to learn to lean into it and know that it is protective and will pass. It is possible to break the loop and allow the dissociation to become discrete episodes or at least a cycle that shifts between low and high levels at times of different stress.

Another aspect that can lock us into a dissociation loop is how we respond to it. Some people have a passive response to dissociation, sleepwalking through their lives. At the other end of the spectrum, people can become so distressed by and intolerant of it that they resort to extreme measures to break free of it. They may self harm, have compulsive sex, take needless risks, or abuse substances to try and feel something or reassure themselves they are alive. Traumatic replay can be part of this. Putting their mind or bodies into various forms of crisis can temporarily relieve dissociation by countering it with a burst of crisis mode in which we are energised, focused, and profoundly in the moment. However these crises can also be the stress that triggers more dissociation, entangling us in a loop that our efforts to escape only deepen.

It doesn’t have to be this way, and sometimes simply recoginsing this pattern can be enough to break it. It’s certainly something I’ve seen a lot in those of us who have become deeply and devastatingly dissociative, and it can sometimes explain the way that helpful dissociation has developed over time into the ‘pathological’ and distressing kind that takes away from our expereince of life rather than protects it. Other ways of working with dissociation that may be more helpful are

For more about dissociation, see my Dissociation Links.

Raw

​Post-partum plus illness is amazingly raw and bewildering. Everything changes around me, friendships and family relationships are shaken up and recast like fortune telling bones. All my predictions were wrong. I live entirely in the moment, my joy is unsullied by any memory of sorrow, my guilt hot with anguish, my despair a heavy coat of ash I can’t breathe through. I doubt myself endlessly and let it go, over and over. 

There are few words, my mind is a storm of ships floundering, there are few words and fewer moments of calm in which sentences and narratives can form. I miss the clarity. I dream of ships sinking, in my dreams I follow the bubbles back to the surface although everything is inverted around me. In my dreams I cannot speak underwater and wish I could tell the others this wisdom – to follow the bubbles back to the air. 

I should be sleeping. I should stop crying and sleep. The infant and I mirror each other – over tired tears, craving the comfort of touch. I keep failing but I do just enough to not sink. It will have to be enough. It will be enough. 

Big wins

(written yesterday) Today has been a big win for me. I got dressed in something more than underwear for the first time since giving birth a week ago. This is bloody exciting. 

Rose and I walked to the park with our daughter. I got to feel grass under my feet, sun on my face, the stitch in my side, pain in my yoni, so on and so forth. Post-partum recovery is a bitch. I hadn’t realised how much being in hospital was doing my head in until getting out. I felt actually human being outside.  Leaving the hospital the other night, I wept standing outside in the night, the first time out daughter had been outside in her life. 

When we got home I walked inside with our daughter, slumped against a wall and sobbed with relief. Bringing her home felt like the finish line of a marathon. Home and safe and back in the real world, my own daughter to love and nurture and protect. My milk has come in, and in a big way. I expressed 70mls today for Rose to use to give me a sleep! 

I have the emotional stability of a three year old at Christmas. Hysteria is one second away, as is intense happiness. Rose has been a champion at supporting me and baby girl. 

Breastfeeding has  been insanely difficult and very painful. I’m learning, and getting more feeds that don’t hurt happening, but I’ve had to stop everything else and really focus to do it. My whole world has revolved around it. All the skills I learned about feeding or daughter back when she was constantly underfed and hungry are redundant once my milk finally came in. She has had to figure out how to feed differently too, otherwise I drown her in milk. The whole two steps forward, one step back dance is emotionally wrenching. Breastfeeding is super easy for some people (and I hate of all them at the moment) but for me it’s been a crazy steep learning curve so I’ve done everything I can to make that curve less steep. I focused on learning only one position (football hold) in one location (bed) with one set of needed supplies (two pillows, burp cloth, moo goo, rolled up face washer, water bottle) and focused on getting a latch that didn’t hurt too much. It takes both hands, I need Rose there to feed or water me, and there’s often pain to manage in the way of chafed nipples and sitting on stitches, as well as muscle aches from days spent on bed hunched into weird positions tense and stressed. I don’t wear a top but live in a bra with soft nipples pads, and I swap a bracelet from wrist to wrist to remind me which side I fed on last time. I break a bad latch over and over to get a not too bad one or occasionally a really good one that doesn’t hurt at all. And I don’t try anything else until I’ve got this. 

Once I’ve started getting it consistently, I add in a new challenge, like being able to do it in low light at night, or being able to sustain the latch using only one hand so I can feed myself at the same time. Keeping that learning curve small as possible though because I need all the success I can get. It was a shock to get home from hospital the other day and realise I couldn’t attend my GP appt because I currently can only breastfeed at all in one way and one location, some of the time. I’m working on it! 

Our midwife visited recently and I was in a bad state, I’d been crying hysterically for most of the morning, the lack of sleep was shattering me, nightmares were incredibly distressing, and I’d found that I was starting to get out daughter confused with Tamlorn in my mind, which was scary and sad. My pain levels were intense and I was trembling with misery. She offered to debrief the birth and words just poured out of me, the good and the bad, tears and fear and stress. The jumbled confusion of experiences that were at once both amazing and terrible, surreal, sublime, and traumatic. The relief of being able to talk about it in the past tense, happened not happening, to start to sift and name and find words for it all was like having the weight of a house removed from my body. I had thought that the pain and exhaustion was physiological – hormones, sleep deprivation, fibro, post surgery pain. But a debrief took so much darkness out of my world. ❤

Waiting it out

I’m working on these two loom bead projects to help me manage the pain/boredom/frustration of over a week of early labour. The poppy design is a gift for Rose’s birthday coming up, she has a passion for these flowers since they bloomed all through our experience of getting pregnant and losing Tamlorn.

Still no sign of little frog, but everything is looking good and we have negotiated to have the inductions delayed by a week to give her and me a chance to go into labour naturally – which means a greater likelihood I’ll be able to manage contractions without needing to use methods of pain relief (ie meds) we know I have trouble processing. The week of early labour has been moving things along slowly, I’m 80% effaced and bubs is in a good position. Fingers crossed things keep moving along!

In the meantime I’m trying to figure out what project to pick up next – art, writing, study, employment… I put out a HVNSA newsletter the other day about the upcoming World Hearing Voices Day. For a year now I have strictly forbidden myself from doing anything on my networks other than maintaining the online discussion groups in order to focus my energy on paid employment. Giving myself a day to reply to emails and create the newsletter was actually a relief – in all the mess of trying to figure out income and the deep pain that topic causes me, I felt clear as an arrow to my chest, a strong sense of love for this work. This, and my arts, is what I want to be doing. This is where my heart is.

I have been delighted to have been approached by a number of people recently for public speaking work. I am booking in dates from September onwards. It’s good to have things to focus on I can actually do something about. 🙂

 

Catching some breaks

Today has been rather wonderful, and I’ve soaked up every minute of it. I’ve visited or been visited by various lovely people collecting artworks from my exhibition, which made me feel a little like santa and means I’ve had lots of great conversations. We also had lovely friends around for dinner and board games, and I’ve done three loads of washing for my sister and partner, with lots of eucalyptus oil to help get out the burnt smell from the fire. It’s all hanging up waiting to be rained on tomorrow because that’s the most effective smoke remover I’ve come across.

The kitchen is clean, I feel useful, I’m looking forward to a really interesting birth class with our lovely doula tomorrow, and right now I’m happily snugged up in bed with a notepad and pens for sketching.

Third trimester pregnancy is much better than the first two for me! I have a lot more energy (comparatively speaking), I can eat more foods – I’ve finally put on some weight!, and I actually have days when I’m enjoying being pregnant rather than just enduring it. Excited about this little one and the big changes ahead of us. Bubs kicks like a horse at the moment and I’m starting to get a little whirlpool of stretch marks around my belly button. I’m pretty big now, and when little frog gets moving people across the room can see my belly jump.

It’s been a really good day. I’m happy. Baby is kicking. Rose has nearly finished her cert 3. Star is going brilliantly at school. And I’ve been invited to submit a resume to a local community arts organisation. Eee! Welfare have finally come through for Star so Rose did a big shop today and stocked up on food and cleaning supplies and pet food and everything else we’ve been running low on for months. Our pantry is stocked and our fridge is full. Things are looking up. 🙂

House Fire

This was a tough week for my tribe. My sister and her girlfriend suffered a terrible fire that destroyed a lot of property. Fortunately both are safe, but the losses have been huge and the clean-up job is ongoing. The cause of the fire cannot be officially determined, leaving the unsettling possibility that it may have been deliberately set. My sister lost some clothes, shoes, and other belongings, and more devastatingly, the beautiful hand painted 4 wheel drive campervan she’d laboured over and kitted out for the past couple of years.

burned van

Her partner was even less fortunate. The fire destroyed her yard, beautiful painted trailer, and got into her home. She’s lost most of her clothes, shoes, personal possessions, a great many irreplaceable items of sentimental value, and even those areas that aren’t directly scorched have been significantly smoke or water damaged. She’s had to move out on the spot and both of them are currently embroiled in insurance paperwork and moving and cleaning what belongings can be salvaged.

House Fire

So, we’ve all been busy. I can’t go near the home itself as pregnant people and smoky burned out areas full of asbestos and melted plastic are not a good mix. So I’ve been helping out in the background by baking and cooking (I’ve never made an I’m sorry most of your things got burned cake before – seems so inadequate but at the same time, so much better than not doing anything!) and helping with some cleaning. Clothes and bedding that has been salvaged needs cycle after cycle of washing to start to reduce the stench of smoke in the fabric. Even the clothes hangers saved needed to be soaked and scrubbed. Everyone is tired and as the shock starts to wear off the losses hit. It’s been a long week.

These two are awesome. They’re using a lot of black humor and taking good care of each other. I’m very proud of them and sad for them and glad to have them as part of my tribe. With some hard work and patience they will rebuild what they can and mourn what can’t be recovered. Friends and family are helping out by donating money or furniture or clothes, or helping with moving and rearranging as they can. They both had insurance but it will only cover a part of what has been lost.

If you can help out there is a bank account set up, or you could donate through this blog and put ‘Kellie’ as the subject. Alternatively you could contact me to ask about any items they may be needing.

NAB
BSB: 083-832
A/c Number: 943857747
A/c Name: Miss Kellie Walduck

Otherwise – check your smoke alarms, have a fire plan, make sure you have contents/car insurance if at all possible, and be careful. Fires are devastating, incredibly rapid, and often totally unexpected. Take care of your folks.

Following up Waiting for You

I’ve been working on filling the art orders from the opening night of my exhibition Waiting for You. The exhibition is only open for another 7 viewing days (Mon – Fri 4-6pm), so if you haven’t made it in yet you’d best get your skates on!

I delivered this beautiful notebook today to a lovely person who was at the opening and particularly fell in love with this artwork. I ordered it in especially and was really happy with how it turned out on this blank notebook, just beautiful. 🙂

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Of the prints I’ve had ordered for embellishment – in this case the customer asked for a print to be made much larger than the original so they could see the tiny details better. This is about 1 and a half times larger and it’s stunning. If I’m able to hold this exhibition again I think I will display this artwork at this size instead. I’m planning to do all my embellishing of prints tomorrow so that I can send the prints that need it in for framing next. Everything is on track to be ready by the close of the exhibition on May 20th.

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I’ve also created a keepsake for the exhibition, this little booklet. It’s free, on display at the exhibition (or I can send you one). It contains a short biography, description of the origin of the exhibition, price lists of the art, information about the artbook Mourning the Unborn, and links to Sands and other online resources.

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I’ve also placed free brochures for Sands on display by the exhibition for guests. There’s also a little visitors book for people to leave thoughts and messages.

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