Past times and pics

What makes you feel nostalgic?

My friend posted a photo of herself on social media as a 4 year old on Father Christmas’ knee. I replied with mine from the same age. All of a sudden I was transported to that day, my Father’s work Christmas party, all the children received gifts. I loved mine ( a tiny red grand piano), but I hated the noise and sitting on a stranger’s knee and being surrounded by people I didn’t know.

Not happy

I was a shy child. Along with that photo however, were the ones my Dad took as we got ready to go. There is my Big Brother, dressed in shorts and long sleeves with a bow tie, long white socks kept up with garters and polished shoes. I am in a lovely dress with matching head scarf, long white socks and white patent mary janes . Although it was summer in Perth and very hot, I look like a little Dutch girl from another era.

My brother and I are playing and having fun, we were very close when we were small. That changed as we got older and life stresses and competition got in the way.

I looked at those photos and felt nostalgic for a time that was innocent and full of hope and friendship

I never had garters!

Textile Art?

This Christmas has been much nicer than last year, time has dulled the grief I have experienced over the death of my dear Mum. I miss her so much. To know I was loved without question, to share conversations and to learn new things about her and her life, was a gift that is irreplaceable. There is a gap in my home life and I have felt it hugely.

I woke up last week and asked myself what is stopping me from living a fuller life. I know my personality is a huge part. Introverts do feel lonely at times! I have also identified that I have been comfort eating for a couple of years. While I knew I was FAT, I didn’t really understand where this hunger came from- something to really deal with now before it becomes even more difficult.

In the new year, I will once again explore choirs in my area. I had a foray a couple of years ago that ended up not being what I was looking for, too much cabaret and sparkly hats, I much prefer the beauty of opera and church music.

I have a wardrobe of clothes me-made and I do consider I am a sewer/sewist. A home full of paintings done by me and I think I am a painter-ish. But, although passable in talent, I think passable is all I am.We are our own worst critics, but I have become a little more forgiving of myself over the past few years, since I have been on my own.

Poppy fields (War)

The art which brings me most joy is working with fabric and thread. I think this is where I will be concentrating in 2023. I have dabbled in past years, I still use my little felt coaster that was my first foray into free-motion embroidery.

When I got my first laptop, I made this bag, it’s rough but I have always liked it.

A present for Mum years ago.

This year I want to take it further, make it a regular joy and hopefully repair my mental health.

I think I wrote previously that I had entered a piece in the State Show and was awarded a Highly Commended, this has given me the incentive to try again and hopefully become more skilled.

Mt Budd out of Mingenew.

When Mum was alive I started on a series of drawings and watercolours of some shells I had collected over the years. I will be working on this from now on and am hoping it will be worthwhile.

The tension isn’t great on this one, but it was a dummy run and will be repeated.

I started working on this one recently, still sorting out the tension, but the fabric is now stabilised with basting stitches, I think I need to change the needle. Coloured thread will be added later, at the moment I am just building up the texture.

This coming new year, I am hoping also to get back into more regular reading and writing of blogs, I have missed it, but the energy and motivation weren’t there.

I hope all of you are inspired for a new start in something this coming year, I hope for peace in Ukraine, Yemen and Palestine and I hope we can all embrace the need for a change in mindset over the future of this little planet we all inhabit.

Best wishes,

Jennx

An Update to “A Family Story”

Family stories are interesting things, memories are fickle and stories change and morph into something that is close to, but not the whole truth.

In A Family Story, I wrote that my parents were married after six weeks. As a teenager, I was thrilled and mystified as to how it could happen and the truth was, it didn’t!

Mum and I had some wonderful chats in her last two years and the nitty gritty of the story was finally revealed. Truth be told, it may well have been me that settled on the six week story (but I have no idea why I would have done that).

So , after Mum and Dad met and fell in love, Mum disembarked in England and went home to Wales to organise a wedding. Dad carried on to the Netherlands and was Best Man at the wedding of his older brother. He spent time with family and then after some time, ventured across to Wales to meet Mum’s parents etc etc. The time line stretches out here, as a wedding is not something that can be rushed, an outfit had to be bought, minister booked, Banns read and the rest. Mum worked for a while and stayed with her parents and when Dad came over he was accommodated on the living room sofa. A little terrace house in The Valleys didn’t have much space and needs must. I found out, that they were together six months before they were married!

What’s Going On:

This is another update, but not about Mum and Dad, it’s about my family.

Readers of this blog know that separating and divorcing were a very difficult time for everyone, from my perspective, I suffered a lot and was very worried about being as strong as I could be for our children. The children have both done well despite the events between their Father and me, a testament to their resilience that I always endeavoured to foster when they were younger.

Since the divorce, I have a lovely little house and my Father’s hard work has allowed me to be mortgage-free, for which I am eternally grateful to him and Mum. The rental situation here in Perth is diabolical at the moment and unlikely to improve in the short term. My Son and his love have just bought a home and I am excited for him. My Daughter has had a harder time of it. She is studying again and working part-time in the retail industry. She doesn’t earn enough to have her own place (bought or rented) and has been in share houses for several years (some successful, others not so much). I am treating her to a driving holiday in Tasmania very soon and afterwards, she will be coming back to my place to live. I am alternately pleased and also nervous, she is a 25 year old young woman, how will it all pan out???

In the meantime, my former husband has decided that he is now a woman (did I mention this earlier?). I am having a huge problem accepting this, I have found his blatant disregard for our children over this is mind-boggling and I am not convinced his want is actually a lifelong desire, or another band wagon he has jumped on at a whim. He is fortunate that society is so kind these days, but it’s a real cross my children have to bear and he is oblivious to their struggles with it. My son said to me that calling his father she and them has been very difficult, my daughter is beyond talking to him as he is only concerned with his own stuff. My heart is sore for them both.

As for me, I am still stuck with an inability to reconcile the lie that was our 30 year year long relationship and his complaints that I was the cause of his misery

The only person who is happy is him (yeah, yeah, I know…wrong pronoun, don’t get me started on that).

Goodbye my Darling Mum

I wrote this last December, Mum died in November and I am still missing her so much.

My Mum died 5 weeks ago, it’s been torrid and I am very much mourning her absence.

For 60 years she was the person who loved me, nurtured me, knew me for who I really am. She was sharp and easily fed up with me, but I knew she was always the one who supported me. There is a huge void that will probably never be filled. I don’t want to be mothered, but I am very much alone and feeling it.

As a nurse who loved working in palliative care, I can say dispassionately that her death was a good one.

As her daughter and caregiver it was bloody terrible and has left me with so many regrets.

I am now getting calls from friends who say in disappointed tone when I say how sad I feel, “Still? I thought you’d be over that by now”!

Yeah, nah.

A blighted life?

I live my life now, with occasional dalliances with the past, most of the time I am here in the present. I will at times look at my superannuation account and wonder about my future after retiring, but that is probably 10 years away and I try not to think about it.

Looking after my dear Mum over the past year has taken its toll on an already injured body. Manifesting with severe acute on chronic pain, I have resorted to some heavy analgesics and anti inflammatories. I knew they were not good for me, but caring for someone else makes me turn to the easy option.

Eventually things became too bad and I have been receiving dry needling and physio. Oh, if I could have dry needling twice a week for the rest of my life (and not pay for it), I would be in heaven

My physio is a lovely girl around my daughter’s age. We have come to enjoy the conversation while she is helping my body feel better. We have both talked about our life experiences and she has come to the conclusion that I have had a hard life!

This comes back to my comment about living life now. My life has not really been extraordinary, it’s had it’s good and bad times, pretty much how you would expect 60 years on this planet to yield, however, when someone comments that I am “amazing” because I still smile and find happiness in small things, my thoughts come to a grinding halt.

I discussed this with my daughter as I was puzzled that someone would make this assessment of my life, she very sensibly said that my physio hasn’t been alive long enough.

Sure enough, at 23, my life centred around myself. New clothes, boys I wanted to see, getting enough sleep before going to work, saving up for the next holiday and getting along with the people with whom I was sharing a house. In short, it was a life that had not been challenged by much.

36 years later, I have lived a life of miscarriages and beautiful children, a troubled marriage, financial stress caused by my husband’s gambling, depression and anxiety. It’s been a life of joy and heartache, pride and embarrassment, illness and health, friendships still going and in the past, travel and gardening, reading, and love and working, really, really hard!

You name it, it’s all pretty ordinary in the scheme of things. In a lot of ways, I have had a blessed life and there are many, many people who have done it much harder than me.

I live in a place of abundant food, good water, comfortable shelter, plenty of clothes and stability. I have never had a personal experience of war, famine or persecution.

A blighted life? I think not!

The dilemma of, “How are you? “…

What is your response?

I find I am sometimes left feeling a bit silly if I have assumed the person asking the question is actually interested. Part of the problem is that I am an introvert, with a certain lack of social awareness (I’m often left thinking, “Shut up Jennifer”, but my mouth just runs away and I’m left with egg on my face).

I’m fine with acquaintances asking me, the reply is usually a breezy, “Fine thanks” , but I have been caught out when it has been someone I know well and feel a connection with.

I was once accused angrily of spoiling a friend’s day when I replied that I wasn’t sleeping well!

What to do? I guess, just continuing the thought that people who ask the question don’t want to know the honest answer and if they do, they will ask again.

How about you, are you as socially awkward as me?

Random thoughts after wasting a day…

Today I spent hours watching Youtube videos of people using camping washing machines…why?

My dearest friend is in a lot of emotional pain which she is fighting with shopping and having the most hectic social life imaginable. Being dumped at 58 somehow has killed a tiny part of her soul, my heart aches for her.

I thought my Covid vaccine was no biggie. I thought I would be in the majority for whom it is nothing much…instead I experienced a severe and sudden headache that made me want to rip my brains out and forced me to cut a night out with friends very short. The accompanying nausea I can tolerate, but I don’t get headaches often and this was awful. At least I will be prepared for the second injection in 12 weeks time.

I had forgotten how “un” maternal my Mother was. Mum is living with me and it has been quite an experience, sometimes not great tbh. She gets cranky and I get short with her, I think I am turning into her. When I injured myself pushing her in her wheelchair, she got annoyed with me when I stopped and gave a quiet yowl of pain. I asked her why she didn’t even ask what had happened and instead just got cross, she seemed genuinely nonplussed, but still uninterested in me. I checked with my daughter if I was turning into her Grandmother and she told me no. She has been quite amazed at how quickly her Grandma can give a negative response, even if opinion is not asked for.

I miss being cared for, although, if truth be told, I think I spent more time caring for my husband, than he spent caring for me.

Maybe, I should say, I miss being cared about.

I would like to be nurtured and loved, a hug would be nice… is 58 too old to think these thoughts?

Thoughts after discussion on the parable of The Good Samaritan

Before you read this you need to know that I am a practising Christian, part of a congregation of a very small church whose members are deep-thinkers (liberal and conservative), theologians and academics, as well as those with physical or mental disabilities, we frequently disagree with each other…

I sent this email to a member who wrote a thought-provoking message about putting the parable of The Good Samaritan into the context of the present day.

Thanks ___,
Little makes me more nauseated than someone in the media announcing, “thoughts and prayers are with (insert unfortunate individual/ area/ minority group here). I have been thinking a lot about prayer and whether or not it does any good, I know it makes me feel better, like I’m actually doing something, but…The results are not necessarily there, is it because my prayer was too knee-jerk or formulaic, or superficial, or God knew it was mainly just for me???
I actually love the story of the Good Samaritan because deep-down I am a busybody/do-gooder and can’t walk past a person who looks like they need medical help- that’s something I can do.

I need to question my motives, am I really as good a person that I like to think I am? I am certainly occasionally curmudgeonly and I can’t abide time-wasting, some people interpret this as me being not a nice person (certainly not my intention), but who am I really helping here (or trying to convince…myself?)? I don’t believe brownie points get people into Heaven, I don’t believe in the place.
In _____’s talk, I was one of those who thought the majority of people would do nothing for others. I live in a NIMBY blah blah blah area, where the local rag is full of people complaining about the latest efforts to make life better for people other than them that may lower the value of their abodes (eg- a hospice for dying children in Swanbourne- omg, NIMBY!).

I am someone who believes in the inherent good of people, but this has taken quite a bashing over the years.

The “Greater Good” seems to no longer be something we all work towards.

(explanatory note- NIMBY- not in my backyard)

Changing Lives

Do you ever sit and think that your life lurches from one crisis to another?

2020 has been a bastard year for the world, although we are doing okay here in Western Australia (thanks in no small part to our Premier Mark McGowan who has shut our state off from almost everyone else with a very hard border), despite the good Covid-19 figures we have here, it doesn’t mean we haven’t been affected. My daughter has found the first half of the year pretty tough, unable to settle, asking the big questions of what she wants to do with her left etc etc, it appears my mermaid daughter no longer wants to work in the ocean. I feel some small concern about this, although the path she is now looking at has also been one of her main interests for years, so hopefully enthusiasm and direction are just around the corner for her.

She is still at home with me (and champing at the bit to leave, which is only appropriate for a 22 year old ), unfortunately limited resources are forcing her to stay a while longer. We had just sorted out a comfortable, minimalist-ish shared home when someone up above had a laugh and said, “Yeah? Nuh, here comes a whammy from left field”.

My dear Mum (91 in October) has had her third major health crisis in three years. My brothers and I have been hoping she would move closer to us, although moving house at that age is perhaps a ridiculous thought. We have been visiting her as often as possible (her home is 3+ hours drive away) and had organised support to help maintain her independence and her home in between visits.

So a couple of weeks ago Mum ‘phoned me and asked me to drive down and take her to the doctor (remember the 3 hour drive?). She was clearly very ill and I urged her to go to hospital (she initially refused as she was sure she would be wasting their time). In the end, a lift was organised and she was admitted with pneumonia and heart failure. She was in hospital for a week (half the time in isolation until her Covid swabs came back negative) and during that time she expressed a need for more care, suggesting she go into an aged-care facility.

NO WAY JOSE!!!

So over the course of a day, my craft room was reorganised into a bedroom for her and she is now living with me, she is still quite ill but getting better every day.

I am exhausted but grateful that I could this for her, I think she is happy to be with me and she knows we are happy to take her home for visits when she wants to go, so I think this just might work. Mum is as sharp as a tack, although her body has let her down over the years, so the care is all physical (and I say thank goodness that I took a detour into nursing as a younger person).  My dogs drive her crazy, but the younger one has adopted her and keeps her company through the day (I think secretly Mum doesn’t really mind), she has access to 2 libraries and we are currently enjoying a Welsh series on Netflix (did I say Mum is Welsh?). She is gradually learning to use her new IPad, although she misses her ageing (and largely obsolete) IMac and she has decided a new mobile ‘phone would be a good move as hers is past it’s use-by date.

She is a cracker, with a very black sense of humour and we love her bits.

But I can’t have cereal for dinner anymore as I now have to cook for someone again.

Changing lives…

Happiness is…

Being able to have my dear lad over for Sunday dinner again

 

It’s been 3 or 4 days since we’ve had a new case of Covid 19 diagnosed here in Western Australia, some of the restrictions have been relaxed including allowing up to 2 people to visit. It was a joy to have my boy here, lots of laughter and real gratitude that we are all okay.

[I feel so proud of both Australia and New Zealand for getting on top of the Covid Crisis (especially New Zealand, out government  here in Oz took a bit longer to rally), things are still fraught but we’re on the right track. It’s been heartening to see the care that people have for each other, the horrid attitude of “every man for himself” has been replaced by a genuine desire to connect in caring ways; I am hopeful we have all learned that working for the collective good is actually a wonderful way to live life].