What could you do more of?

Why would you want to do more? Don’t I do enough right now?

Sometimes in our day-to-day lives, we can fall into the habit of just doing the same old things. Day in, day out. We can get into a rut, just going through the motions, doing the things that we always do, everyday.

We may not even notice, nor even feel discontent, because in some respects we are on autopilot.

Sometimes we can feel trapped – stuck in a job that we need to do to earn the money to pay the rent, the car rego and to buy food and so on. Like a mouse on a treadmill, going round and round with no end in sight. Of course there is always that holiday coming up, but apart from that nothing much changes.

It is often easier to just go with the flow, not make any waves and especially not make any changes that might make us uncomfortable. Don’t rock the boat.

(I wonder how many more metaphors I can fit in right now?)

For me, I was shaken – severely – really out of my comfort zone when Kelly died. Everything in my immediate world changed. Nothing was really the same. So I learnt to live with that. But there was always that niggle, that I should be doing something more with my life.

I’d always said I wanted to write a book one day – many people do say that but not really do anything about it.

But my world had changed when she died, and it was never going to be the same again. I’m not really the type to just sit back and do nothing, although I hadn’t really done much more than the normal, regular everyday things. Well, except for the time I went to China on a massage study tour. We visited the Great Wall, which was awesome, and I rode up to the Wall on a ski lift – that was quite scary and when it was time to come down I chose to do it on a toboggan. Way out of my comfort zone, but it was fun.

So I discovered that sometimes getting uncomfortable could be fun. What else might be fun?

Now I’m not saying that my life is a whirl of doing fun things now. But I’ve taken a few more risks, stuck my neck out a few more times in the last few years.

So what could you do more of?

How about starting with a list of possibilities?

Take the time to write yourself a list of things you wish you could do, or be, or have and see what happens.

Maybe you’ll have some fun, perhaps even get uncomfortable.

I wish I could …..

I wish I could …..

I wish I could …..





Grief Has No Time Limit..

Grief and mourning go hand in hand, and they are not exclusive to those that have died. It can be experienced in many ways, and mourning can be associated with many different things.

The loss of a job that has been a way of life for years can be like a death. Things change, and with change often comes a period of mourning, although not everyone acknowledges their feelings as such.  Illness and loss of bodily function, appearance can also lead to grief.

Children moving out of the family home for the first time can be a cause for celebration for those left at home, or – it can be a loss – and mourned as such. Speak to mothers who’ve experienced this. Initially relief that finally your child has grown up enough to leave home, followed by sadness or even true grief. Your baby doesn’t need you any more. The reality is very often that they’ll be back – not necessarily to stay, but for chats, advice and the like, or to bring the washing! But it’s hard to see that at first.

Then there is the grief that comes with death. The grief we cannot put a time limit on.

Most commonly, the loss of a loved one is a parent or older relative. That is the usual order of life. We reach an age, and then we die. Hopefully we go gracefully, or better still quickly rather than a lingering on.

But then too often, comes the tragedy of losing a child. The age doesn’t really matter, as it doesn’t seem right that your child should go before you. That’s not the way of life!

From personal experience, the initial grief was raw, harsh and totally absorbing, blended in with shock and disbelief. This grief can be for sharing; having someone to talk to who remembers that child can be truly comforting. We were blessed as a family to have friends who came to share in our grief, to be there to support us in that extreme need. They gave us the strength to keep going, or at least it seemed that way at the time. With them you can release the healing laughter, reminiscing over some of the mad and memorable moments of that lost life.

For others who do not have that luxury, then the strength comes from who knows where.

Tears – how much can a body cry? You begin to wonder just where the tears come from and when will they stop! Floods of them, cleansing perhaps, but all part of the mourning process.

Despair too, is a part, and wondering how on earth will you get through this. But you cope. It is amazing where the strength comes from, but it appears when you need it. People comment on how strong you are, but inside you feel quite differently.

As time goes on, the grief becomes more bearable, it seems to wax and wane but you never really know when it will come. You try to contain your grief for the sake of others, but it seems that the more you are in control, the harder the next bout will be.   It has a nasty habit of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. You’ll be driving along and a song will come on the radio – one that was a favourite or you associate with them and the tears come again.

Oh there will be anger too at some stage – how dare they go and leave you to suffer? Anger at the loss of potential, the possible grandchildren, the chance to be related to a famous movie star perhaps. But that passes, and with the passing comes acceptance. Then a certain calmness and even peacefulness. The feeling that it was all meant to be, all part of the order of life leaving simply – sadness.

This journey will run parallel to the rest of life, beside the day-to-day stuff. Every now and then you will stop and wonder what your life would be like if they had lived. Daydreaming about possibilities forever gone, but then life and reality creeps back in again and you get back to the practical things in life.

What will we have for tea tonight?

Why is talking about suicide so uncomfortable ?

For too long the subject of suicide has been taboo in our society.  This may have been fuelled by the early religious belief that a person who died by suicide could not be buried in consecrated ground.  Rather than face that shame, families would hide a suicide.

Although the topic does seem to be talked about more easily today, there is still hesitancy and reluctance around the it.

It maybe that we are afraid to upset someone who is thinking about suicide, or it could be we believe the old myth that if we talk about it we could be giving them the idea!

I get too that  people are careful not to upset those who’ve experienced a loss to suicide, but unless we talk more about it, then it will keep its taboo status and we will continue to lose loved ones to this scourge of our society.

Maybe we have a  friend or loved one we  think are not doing well mentally, yet we are still hesitant to actually ask straight up if they are okay or even if they are thinking about suicide.

Saying something like “Please don’t tell me you’re thinking about suicide!” only tells that person that you don’t want to know thats what they are contemplating .  The question needs to be asked directly, so you can expect a more informative answer, and then take the appropriate action.

It can be a difficult thing to ask, in fact it can be downright uncomfortable, however it is far better to feel like a fool for a little while, than have to front up to a funeral in the near future.

Asking “The Question” shows that you care about them, and you may be able to help them get the assistance they need.  Perhaps just to have someone there to listen to them might be all they need, or it may mean encouraging that person to call Lifeline, Suicide Help or similar organisation. Somewhere there are trained counsellors who can help or direct them to the appropriate resource. Reassuring someone you love by being bold enough to ask about their mental state may be all it takes to keep them with us.  It may be just what they needed to have them seek help, or to feel worthwhile again.

Years ago, when I was doing my nursing training, we were given a brief talk on suicidal people.  The outcome was that those who talk about suicide don’t actually follow through.  When Kelly told me she was going to do it –  to my everlasting regret –  I didn’t  believe her. So instead of planning her twenty first birthday party, we had to organise her funeral.

For me, in the early months after Kelly died, even though I wanted to talk about her, I would cry and get upset.  But that was just a normal reaction to losing my beautiful girl in tragic circumstances. A perfectly normal reaction.   I wasn’t the only one who felt that need , the other members of my family and her friends did too.

Now we have ‘Mental Health Awareness Week’ and ‘R U Okay Day’, which are a great way to raise awareness, however we need to be vigilant all year round – not just on specified days.

The only way to reduce the incidence of suicide is to talk about it more, to become more at ease with the topic.  Maybe then we will see the statistics go down instead of continually rising as they have been doing.

Friends … Family …

Friends – we’ve all got them. Some of them are better than others, but most of us can confidently say that we have friends.

The dictionary describes a friend as “a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile.”

They are there to support you when you need them, but I guess over the years I’ve certainly had some friends who were hostile! Maybe that’s why they really aren’t on my friends list now – ha ha!

Then there are the friends we have on social media – all those friends on Facebook. Do you ever find yourself browsing through that list of friends and wondering who some of those people are? I know I have, and I’ve asked myself why I accepted that friend request in the first place. Just because they were friends with several of my friends, doesn’t mean that they should be on my list. Although, perhaps it is flattering to have someone want to see what you post?

A teenager may boast of having a vast number of ‘friends’, but they aren’t all true friends. Friendship can’t be counted in numbers; it’s really by the deeds.

Periodically I sort through and quietly move some of those ‘friends’ off the list.I mean, really do they know my family and do they need to know when my grandson got his license?Are they really interested that I made my first batch of mozzarella cheese yesterday? It was good fun too – I’m looking forward to doing it again someday, despite the recipes saying it takes thirty minutes – I took most of the afternoon!

Anyway, back to friends. I have a number of people I feel proud to call my friends. Some I’ve had for years. You know, the ones that you seem to lose track of when you move and then you see them again and it’s like you were just talking to them yesterday. They’re the ones I value.

Then there are the ones that are there in a crisis. I had some amazing friends around me when Kelly died. I still have them. The neighbors’ who had become good friends – the ones who I’d shared many a glass of wine with over the years. They were there for us when we needed them, doing the little things that you can’t think of when you are shell-shocked with new grief. That’s friendship.

Or the ones like my Wednesday coffee friends, who are there for you whatever the crisis is in your life. They dispense advice, give great hugs, and sit there sipping their coffee or tomato juice just listening to you pour it all out.

When I’m in need of a shoulder to lean or cry on, I think of my friends, and I ask myself “have I been a good friend to them too?’

A good test of friendship is in those times you really need a friend and that person is there to support you. I’m sure we’ve all had ‘friends’ who disappeared when the times got tough. Or the odd ‘hostile’ one.

We now have a new buzzword, it’s been around for some time although it’s not in all the dictionaries yet. I’ve no doubt it will be in time.

It is ‘framily’. When I first heard it I thought that someone had made a slip of the tongue, but no, it is real. My spellcheck doesn’t like it, but I think it’s a great word.

The Macmillan dictionary defines it as “A new social group underpinned by the principles that good friends are the family that we choose for ourselves.”

 I know that I have a wonderful framily surrounding me, supporting me and loving me – and I love them back too. xxx