Glass Houses

We live in a society that has huge expectations of others. Much of which we take for granted — until something is taken away from us. Then there is a tendency to blame others for your own disappointment. For the past few months now we have been encouraged to follow social distancing guidelines, wash our hands more than regularly and to avoid hugs and touching apart from our partners and those we live with.

So for the first few weeks that’s exactly what we did — although I think there was a small section of the community that couldn’t see the need for these restrictions. There has been much talk of conspiracy theories and the like. Most of us however followed the guidelines so we could eventually get on with our lives — with the aim of returning to our regular or ‘normal’ activities again. But over the past weeks I’ve noticed many seeming to ignore the social distancing and slipping back into close proximity again. This is despite supermarkets and shops having designated marks on floors for us to use and follow.

The aim of the whole program is to avoid any potential spread of disease and yes it has been a bit of a bother at times, yet is also becoming a way of life. If it keeps me well then I’m very happy to have these restrictions. Having worked for a large portion of my life as a nurse — retired now — I understand the need to adhere to these strict measures. And even though I miss the hugs and handshakes it’s not so bad once you get used to it.

Yesterday we were informed that because of the rise in the number of new infections, that parts of the state would go into lockdown from today. Back to really strict guidelines again in order to protect us and hopefully reduce the numbers infected to a manageable level. As I see it, the return to higher numbers of cases of COVID-19 could happen at any time and anywhere in the country. Yet we have states pitted against each other, complaints about border closures and nasty headlines about Victorians being ‘Mexicans’ because we are south of the border with a rise in infections. Everybody seems to be looking for someone else to blame — probably secretly smiling because ‘it’ is happening to us and not them. Also what I understand is if we had all continued to adhere to the guidelines then just maybe we could have avoided this second wave.

Yes, we have had an increase of cases detected, but our testing numbers have also risen substantially, so of course if you test more then you will likely find more. So I believe that it could well be a case of ‘There but for the grace of god go I..’ and liken it to the old adage that people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.

It may well come back to bite you!

#copingsuicide #thoughtleader #BlackLivesMatter

Normal

There has been a lot of talk lately about the ‘new normal’  and it has had me wondering about the ‘old normal’.  What was it really?   I looked up the dictionary meaning of the word — ‘to conform to the standard or the common type; usual; regular; natural’.  And I’m thinking that what is normal for one may not be  for another.  So yours may well be abnormal for me and so on.

With the advent of COVID19 we’ve all been thrown out of our normal existence.  Our lives have changed considerably and we have been unable to do the regular things that felt comfortable. Over the last couple of weeks we’ve been allowed to resume some of the activities we pursued before isolation and life has begun to seem like before.  But will we be the same as we were before?  Have we changed because our societal circumstances changed and now we’ve embraced new activities out of necessity.

One of the greatest things missing from my life are the hugs I used to get when greeting a friend or family member.  Today’s normal has me bump elbows and keep a distance of one and a half metres to reduce the possibility of spreading the disease.

Yes it sucks, but we are stuck with this  for now — and probably well into the future if the virus  hangs around.  And it’s becoming ‘normal’ for us to live that way.  Now when I watch the television and see people getting too close I cringe a bit, because for weeks now keeping the distance has become a safety thing.

This week I returned to the gym, and yes I’m suffering a bit from that, but I’m going back to torture my already sore muscles again today.  In a few days those sore muscles will settle down and I won’t even think about them — but now I know they are there every time I reach  for something.  But it’s not the same as it was before as I now have to book into a class — I can’t just rock up when I feel like it.

Just like after Kelly died, there were certain aspects of our lives that changed forever and we had to accept and move on — there was no choice.  And we got used to it because — well, no alternative.

There are a few adjectives I like related to the word normal — but the ones I can use are ‘half-normal or quasi-normal’. So what is your normal like now?

#copingsuicide  #thoughtleader #BlackLivesMatter

Editing & Perfection

Nothing in life is perfect.  Yet we  seem to be striving for perfection.  Some of us — like me, fall far from the mark.  But isn’t that what life is all about really?  I remember as a young girl when I was learning to sew and my mother would make me undo if it wasn’t to her standards, and do again.  Much to my disgust, as I had the attitude then that near enough is good enough;  and couldn’t see why I had to meet  her perfection.  Even now I have several crochet projects on the go that haven’t worked out the way I originally intended, so I’ve put them aside to finish later.   I often find that later I’m okay with undoing and starting again.

Yet I have an older brother who will try over and over again until he finds his perfection, but I lack the patience.  I want results more quickly.

This morning I read a post on Facebook that struck a chord; it was speaking of making mistakes and it was related  to  crocheting a blanket.  It  said that the mistakes may not be evident to others, but she knows they are there and how often  it is like life.  We all make mistakes and sometimes we wish we could change or undo them, but that is not what life is about.  This is where we learn and grow.

But it got me thinking about life and how we approach it. We all make mistakes, errors of judgement and sometimes cringe about them, wishing to expunge them from our lives.  But we cannot go back and change them.  It’s rather like taking the minutes of a meeting, and later thinking that perhaps that wasn’t what was said, then wanting to change it — once the minutes are written, they cannot be undone and any changes must be made by consensus at the next meeting.  So with our lives — there has to be either acceptance or apology for us to move on.

There are parts of my life that I wish I could go back and edit — but sadly I can’t.  If I could do that then Kelly would be here  and life would be so vastly different.  As they say  hindsight is a wonderful thing.

“You can’t edit life — but you can create a new draft.”  cjh

#copingsuicide  #BlackLivesMatter #thoughtleader

Significant Life Events.

There are many significant events throughout our lives and some repeat annually.  Like birthdays for instance.  I’ve just celebrated one of those and it was great — mostly.  Of course there comes a time in your life where you simply mark the occasion as that actual number of years are probably best not talked about.

I love birthdays — they are a great excuse to do exactly what you want to do.  I eat and drink whatever I like with no thoughts of health and wellbeing — and without any guilt.  After all it is only one day in the year —  I can revert to my usual behaviours the next day.

Of course the actual birthday is usually prefaced with  reminders in the lead-up to the day.  I like to think that I’ve managed these significant life events — which also include days like Mother’s Day and Christmas —  reasonably well over the past few years.  For a period of time it was all about ‘managing’ them or getting through them, especially in the first few years after Kelly’s suicide.

The first year was obviously the worst as every ’special’ day was marked as a first — and there seemed to be many firsts that year.  As the years went by there didn’t seem to be as many tears compared to that difficult one.  So after nineteen years I have become a little complacent about these milestones.  I don’t dread them anymore, and I can usually manage to get through those days without floods of tears.  But every now and then tears will sneak through when you least expect them.

I was having a birthday lunch with my son and we were having a great discussion when suddenly out of nowhere my eyes began to slowly leak.  At first I couldn’t work out why and then it dawned on me that it was almost my birthday and that’s when I tend towards the emotional.  It’s  like I just have the realisation that Kelly isn’t here anymore — physically of course as she is always there in my mind.  Perhaps the brain tricks us for a while.

I recall going shopping with my good friend and my god-daughter, sometime after Kelly’s death and when I came home the day’s purchases were carefully hung on the doorknob.  I was sitting having a drink with Ross when it dawned on me that I’d put them there for Kelly to see and comment on. A similar experience occurred after my mother  died.   I had a rather tumultuous relationship with my mother but something happened and I immediately thought about telling mum — before I realised that she wasn’t there anymore.

So I’m allowing myself to be emotionally vulnerable on these days because I think I’ve earned that right.

#copingsuicide  #griefandloss  #BlackLivesMatter

 

 

 

Fixing

I like to fix things — perhaps it has something to do with my upbringing and not wanting to throw things away until I’ve at least attempted to fix or get someone to do it for me.

I’m guessing that I’m not the only one, particularly when it comes to dealing with people and situations. There are all sorts of names like counselling, crisis management and mediation for dealing with situations that can seem to have gotten out of hand.   Or maybe you like to just do it on your own and try to talk a problem out — which can work well if you’ve got a willing subject to work with.  Then again maybe you want to hold on to the theory that you are in the right and everyone else is wrong.  Might work — but probably not.

I met a  young man this week who was very interesting to talk to, and he asked  lots of questions about me,  my family, what I do now and so on.  It was actually rather refreshing to have someone truly interested in the people he meets.  Our discussion kept getting sidetracked until he asked me about my children.  I told him about my eldest two and he then asked about Kelly.

When I told him that she’d died by suicide almost twenty years ago he became very quiet.  Expressing his sympathy he began talking about one of the other young men who live in his house.  He said he is very shy and has hidden away so he doesn’t have to talk.  The young man is from a country town and a few months ago lost his brother to suicide.  His concern for a friend was genuine as also was the desire to help him.  He asked if I would lend a copy of my book for him to read as it may help.  I said certainly — however it may well be too soon.  He wants to fix him — to help him move forward.

Grief is a funny thing and everyone grieves differently.  There is no right or wrong way to do it — simply is the way it is for each of us.  Some people seem to move on to the next phase of their lives quickly, whilst others seem to hang on to their grief diligently.  And there is nothing wrong with either way although people often judge others by their own experiences.  I recall a few months after Kelly died I met a colleague in the street.  We chatted for a while and then he asked  “Aren’t you over it yet?”.  I was rather shocked and replied that I didn’t think I would ever get over it!

We all have some form of nurturing in us and part of that is to help others and make things better for them — smoothing the path — but not everyone needs help.  Some just need to be allowed to move forward at their own pace — not the one you set for them.

There is no ‘fixing’, rather just letting things follow their own course — but being there if and when they need you.

#copingsuicide  #thoughtleader  #BlackLivesMatter

Tipping Points & Stats

This week I had the pleasure of being interviewed by Ruth Hibburt from RJH Education Solutions who has written a book for teens called Do Make Mistakes.  The interview was focused on suicide, potential  signs and what we can do about it.  It was a fun twenty or so minutes and hopefully inspired some people to learn a bit more about the signs and actions to take.  I believe that we can all make a difference just by educating ourselves a little more so that we can take some action when faced with a situation that may not seem right.

What prompted the interview was an article Ruth had seen that said the suicide rate has risen by around 50% since Covid-19 arrived.  Plus there have been a spate of teens from one secondary school suiciding in the past few weeks.

So I searched for the article that suggested the major increase and could only find two printed in overseas papers, mentioning ‘Australian mental Health Experts’ but not naming them.  I did however find an article from the University of Sydney’s Brain and Mind Centre  saying that modelling suggested that the pandemic could contribute to a major surge of around 25% with an increase of up to 30% in young people aged between fifteen and twenty-five.  Not so good, but we needn’t get caught up in the Statistics  but rather focus on our efforts to reduce the numbers.

So what can we — everyday mums, dads and grandparents do about it?  I believe that if we are aware of some of the potential Tipping Points for suicide, then we may be able to prevent more of these.  We don’t need to have a medical degree or be a psychologist to make a difference because we may be able to spot signs before a health professional.  It stands to reason that if you live in close proximity and notice behavioural changes, then stepping in and getting help more quickly will make a difference.

The tipping points may be considered the “last straw” that may lead to someone who has previously only been considering suicide, to take action.  These are when an individual’s risk of suicide escalates due to the occurrence of some precipitating event or “tipping point”.  Some of these may include:

• death of a loved one — friend, relative or significant person
• death of a pet
• changes in family such as divorce, loss of job and financial hardship
• bullying or violence
• unexpected changes in life circumstances

The last one seems to be very relevant for the current times as we’ve all had some form of change in our life circumstances with the advent of the pandemic.  For younger people not being able to hang out with friends, being unable to do schoolwork in the usual manner could be a major upset.

So there are many resources available to us all, should we feel the need to get help.  Also we should never feel that we may be wasting someones time — because it may just save the life of someone you love.  Call your GP or Lifeline and ask the experts — they are only too happy to be of assistance.

My book has a list of support services, and you can find more by searching the internet for those local to you.  There are also resources on my website — http://www.christinejhoward.com.au.

#copingsuicide  #thoughtleader #blacklivesmatter

Resilience

Many times in our lives we are called on to use our resilience to get us through challenging situations and for most of us the last few weeks have been just that — challenging.  Some of us have found a resilience that we never realised we had — we’ve learnt that within us is a capability to withstand even the most daunting challenges.

Now I’m guessing that most of us didn’t realise that when we were asked to isolate ourselves, that we would remain that way for weeks, months even.  I know I didn’t think it would last this long, and it’s still looking like being a part of our lives for quite some time yet.

So it started off as a bit of a game for me.  Enforced home stay, minimal contact with others and only my phone and computer to connect.  Every day we would turn on the television late morning to check the latest updates on the virus situation.  Sometimes the viewing would extend to another couple of programs, but mostly we only watched the latest press conferences for information.  But after a couple of weeks we didn’t bother.

I called friends and family on a fairly regular basis and had long chats which was great — well I didn’t have anywhere else to go and neither did they.  Looking on the isolation as a bonus the house sorting began.  I worked my way through cupboards and drawers re-organising and setting things aside to chuck or send to the op-shops — when they open again.

I’d been fortunate to visit the library just before they shut down and had a stack of books to read, however with the extra time they didn’t last too long and are still in the bag waiting to be returned when they are accepting returns — hopefully in a week or so I will be able to get rid of that bag too.  In the meantime I’m reading some of those books I just hadn’t gotten around to before.

I found projects half done and have successfully completed a few of those — such a great feeling when I do.  Then I tackled the shed — a mammoth task that is still on-going but looking so much better than before.

We quickly learned to navigate zoom meetings and resumed the weekly coffee catch-up, chatting for the hour or so which made life seem more normal.  But what is normal now?  Will we ever return to the way of life that we knew in February?  How will our lives look once we are permitted to resume the basics such as going to the gym, meeting up for lunch?  Of course many have adjusted to working from home and some will continue to do so, but others will be heading back to the office.  Children returning to schools signals some sort of ‘normality’ returning.

But all of this talk of returning to ‘normal’ has me remembering how life changed forever when Kelly died.   One day all was well — the next it was utter chaos and grief.  Adjustments were made out of necessity and our lives would never be the same again.  But the resilience that must be born in us — came to the forefront and we managed.  Just like with Covid-19 — we learn to develop new habits and ways of operating.   Some of these we will keep, and others — well they probably won’t endure.

What new habits have you acquired during isolation — and which ones will you keep?

#copingsuicide #thoughtleader

Boxes

There are times when I feel that I’ve been categorised into boxes.  That I’m not really identified as who I am, but rather classified as ‘x’ or ‘y’ and not being seen as me.

Sometimes I do it to myself — perhaps because it has become another habit that I’ve been unaware of.  For example:  I am a mother — yes that is established and true — I have three children.  The eldest of these is forty three, the youngest is dead and the middle one is forty one.  So yes I am a mother — but — I am not a mother who ‘mothers’ anymore.  My children are now fully functioning adults who care very well for themselves and are parents too, so there is no need for input from me as a mother anymore.  Yes I fit into the box “Mother” but I don’t operate as such in reality now.

Then there is the ‘pensioner’ box.  Once again it is true that I am, and fit into that box.  But for me when I say the word it conjures up a picture of a little old lady with white hair, perhaps a walking stick and grandma clothes.  That’s not who I am — well at least that’s not how I see myself.  So the label fits, but the description is way off — well I’d like to think so anyway.  I don’t feel like one; I don’t think I act like one and I certainly don’t want to be seen as one like that either.  I’d prefer to think I’m a little bit more progressive than that.

Recently I read a post on Facebook from a women who classified herself as “Menopausal” and because of that she felt certain things were not available to her.  She complained that because she was menopausal that it was harder for her to do certain things — like lose weight.  She is living her life as if that is all she is — or at least that is what I saw when I read the post.  Her life as she sees it has been categorised and boxed as if that is all there is.  Her story reads  ‘Look at poor me – I’m going through menopause and I’m special’.

Now I’m not bashing the woman as I’ve been there myself some time ago and yes it was a rather uncomfortable and difficult time.  But I tried not to let it define me.

So another box I had difficulty with was the ‘Writer’ one.  For a long time I felt that I was being rather presumptuous to say I was a writer.  Then I realised that yes, that is one box I can comfortably say I fit into.  I’ve written a book and I write a weekly blog so therefore writer is a part of who I am.

So where do you categorise yourself?  What boxes are you classifying yourself as being in?  Perhaps it is time to spring clean and chuck out some of those old boxes that just don’t fit anymore.

#copingsuicide  #thoughtleader

 

Moments

According to Wikipedia, a moment or momentum is a  medieval measure of time and the movement of shadow on a sundial was measured by 40 moments in an hour.

 

We’ve just celebrated Mothers Day last Sunday, and Facebook is full of pictures showing various ways mothers’ were feted and cherished.  It was probably the same on Instagram and many other modalities.   The papers were devoted to it, and much was said on the news.  One school in Melbourne even went to the trouble of changing the name of the Mothers Day Gift Stall to incorporate the various types of mothers around.

Mother’s Day for me, is always a difficult one, despite said difficulty being kept to myself.  I do struggle with it because Kelly isn’t with us anymore, and some days I see that as a sort of failure in my mothering.  Other days I look at the time and the twenty Mothers Days I did have with her.

Then I look at the ‘moments’ that stand out for me, which is not so simple, given that I had three children and many of the early Mothers Day breakfasts were a joint effort.  Some of these were best forgotten, but at least the thought was there.

Kelly was a big believer in celebrating special occasions and making them important.  Not that the others didn’t, but each of them had their own little ways of making birthdays and the like stand out.   I’ve got a box full of mementos to remind me of these days and the way my children marked them.

For me, I had a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon with my son, daughter-in-law and husband, so I felt very special.  But in saying that, I think of other Mothers who have lost children to all manner of reasons, and I feel blessed to have been able to share the day with one of mine.

“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”

Beliefs

I’ve just finished reading a book called Out of the Maze by Dr Spencer Johnson.  He’s the man who wrote Who Moved My Cheese?  And it was an enjoyable short read – both of them were.

It’s about the power of belief — what we believe and how we believe.  A parable really, but so easily related to our everyday lives.  It made me think more about what I believe, and what I expect to happen because of those beliefs.  Some of my beliefs are quite predictable, others rather random and then some could be seen as being a bit way out there.  It doesn’t matter really, not what they are nor how others perceive them.

A bit like following the current political scene — here we are heading into yet another election with predominantly the same people telling us what they’d like us to believe.  Yet we don’t always believe what they want us to —some of us even do our own research, rather than blindly following what we’re told we should.  In fact it can be very hard to believe what we are told is the truth when we look at past performances as a guide.

So why is it that we stick to the same old beliefs, year in, year out when they are not really serving us in this world that is forever changing?

An example — I grew up thinking that I had a happy family and that all was well within that arena.  Until one day as an adult with a young family myself, I discovered that it was all false.  The father I respected and loved was in fact a pedophile.  Oh yes it all made sense sadly when I stopped and had a good hard look under the surface.  Little things made me take a good look at the beliefs I had around family and see that they didn’t serve me anymore.  For a while I was wary of older men who played and joked with children and handed lollies out with the hymn books, but over time I’ve come to realise that I can’t lump all older men into that category. So along with a new reality — my beliefs changed.

I could cite dozens of stories that have had me switch my beliefs around over the years, but I’m sure you see the point.

Where in your life are you holding onto beliefs that don’t help you anymore ?

It’s about thend how we believe.