gratitude

The Homelessness Diaries, pt 1

“Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop”

I wish I could take that advice, but you’ll just have to forgive me for jumping in at the middle. At some point I will tell you my tale of woe, but for now, I just want to introduce myself.

Hello, I’m a statistic. I’m 47, I have no job, no home, and am really just trying to figure out where my next meal is coming from, and how I can escape this mountain of debt piling up and threatening to bury me under an avalanche of late fees and hardship forms.

I also have four cats, who live temporarily in a little room in the suburbs, and are thankfully pretty happy and healthy. I had a fifth cat, a cranky 13 year old tabby, but he was never going to be happy crammed into the room with all the others, so he sadly had to go to foster care until I can find him a more permanent home.

I go to see my cats every day, and give them as much cuddles and food as I can afford, and tell them this will all be over soon and I will find us a home again. Sometimes I sleep there in the little single bed there, and they all pile on. And even though I wake up with a bad back and twisted up like a pretzel, I am so grateful I still get to do that.

This actually isn’t the first time I’ve been homeless, but I’m a lot older than the last time (when I was 33). I’m more tired, more disabled, more ill than before. And I’m sad and angry that everything I spent the last 14 years building has vanished like it was nothing.

I wouldn’t be in this position if I had work. But unfortunately the same resume that’s served me well over the years has become an anathema to the AI bots that now sift through all hopeful job applications, selecting only the “right” ones. I haven’t learned how to hack the system yet, and to be honest if my fate is being decided by AI then we have bigger problems at hand.

Of the hundreds of jobs I’ve applied for this year, if I do get a response it’s usually a form rejection email. If I get a rare interview, I’m told I’m “overqualified” or “not the right fit”. The last place I interviewed at (who, ironically, are set up to provide services to older women who are struggling) said I didn’t answer their questions in “the right way”.

My mental health is suffering with every rejection, so I have stopped looking for work right now. Thankfully I am on government benefits but they don’t stretch far. Hence the debt I racked up while I was moving out of my last property (under duress – which is a story for another day!), which has started to accrue late fees and attract nasty phone calls and I am drowning.

Anyway, I’m sure I will unpack all of this as we go. I slept over with my cats last night, and today I have had some Devon and crackers and cheese and an apple that I had in the fridge there. I stopped in at the TAFE library to work on and submit an assignment, but will go now to the place I’m staying at this week as I have some food in the fridge there – a burger I saved from an event on Saturday night, and a bit of salad.

Really, my life has become all about food, and I hate it. Where can I go to get a meal? What food vans are operating today and where? Where’s the nearest food pantry? What groceries can I buy with $5? How long will this food last without access to a fridge? Who can I hang out with who will feed me? And every fortnight after I get paid I like to treat myself, but that’s turning into an accounting exercise as well and I can’t even enjoy McDonald’s without feeling guilty.

I’m a bit worried about the long-term affects of all this instability and food insecurity. But c’est la vie I suppose. I just need to keep going, try to keep a pragmatic outlook, and hope for the best.

blog: the last

There’s always a last time for everything we do. The last time you ate at that restaurant, the last time you took part in a hobby, the last time you spoke to so-and-so.

Sometimes we know our “lasts”.  Our last day at work. The last day of a holiday. The last time we will see a dying relative this side of the veil. 

But often it’s only much later when you’re reflecting that you realize you never did go back to that Greek restaurant before it closed, or see that friend before they moved away.  You stopped going to a particular club because you wanted a change of scene, then the scene changed while you weren’t looking and you got lost along the way. 

Of course we can’t live our moments as if they are our last. We can’t force ourselves to live at a manic FOMO pace. But sometimes I argue with someone special and I think, “What if those are my last words to them?” Or I share an intimate night with someone and wonder if that will be the last time we would be so close. 

Some regrets are for the things we do. Others are for the things we didn’t.  Nothing seems to sting more than the regret of a squandered opportunity.  There’s no ‘undo’ button for life. There’s no way to save and re-load an earlier checkpoint.

Trying to recreate a past happiness never works, even if you come close, it will still be its own thing. So the only solution is to come to terms with loss and learn to deal with endings that don’t come with closure.

There is a way to move forward though. Learn to live in the moment, be mindful and appreciative of what you have. Live with gratitude as a constant companion. Take nothing for granted. And say ‘I love you’ as often as you can.

blog: just smile and say thank you

I was talking to a friend yesterday about how a lot of people have to learn how to take a compliment graciously. For example, someone says “That’s a lovely dress!” Me a few years ago: “Oh, this old thing? I got it at Kmart on the clearance rack!” Me today: “Why, thank you!” But it took me a while!!

It’s really not hard, but I guess a lot of us struggle because compliments force us to admit we secretly think we look cute too, or did well in a challenge, or cooked a really great meal, etc. A lot of us grow up being told not to “put tickets on ourselves” (for non-Australians that’s “think too highly of yourself”!).

And we have “tall poppy syndrome” here in Australia, where anyone who tries to stand out above the crowd becomes a target for being taken down a peg or two. Which makes today’s rhetoric of “love yourself” and the body positive movement, etc. so hard to embrace for some people.

But if we were to embrace our own awesomeness, it wouldn’t be hard to say “Thank you” when we are paid a compliment. Instead of deflecting the compliment we are paid, I’m sure some people give false compliments just to be ‘nice’ or to be manipulative but I’d wager that most compliments are genuine and people who give them just want to contribute to making your day a little brighter. By deflecting their compliment, you are devaluing their opinion and their contribution to your life.

So practice just saying “Thank you” when people say nice things about you! It’s hard at first but it’s not impossible, and when you do there are smiles all round.

Oh, and by the way – you look nice today!

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blog: create your own interpretation

Three things are true:

1. Everyone has a story
2. Your story is important
3. YOU ARE NOT YOUR STORY

We tell ourselves stories all the time. We give meanings to things, it’s kinda what humans do. We hear what people say, we see what they do or don’t do, and we add our own meaning on top. It’s natural to apply personal experience to things, to want to deepen our understanding of them. But too often we stop there, we take our assumptions as gospel.

Assumptions make asses out of umptions, which is bad enough. But when we internalise ‘meanings’ as truths, when we allow these perceptions to become part of our “story”, we cross into dangerous terrain.

Interpreting stuff that happens in a way that is negative and harmful to our self-identity and self-esteem can damage and alter our view of who we are so effectively and insidiously it can take years to come to the surface. And yet these damaging hidden ‘truths’ we embrace about who we are have a very real affect on our actions and choices along the way.

“I’m worthless.”
“I’m ugly.”
“I’m fat.”
“I’m trouble.”
“I’m no good at anything.”
“I tore my family apart.”
“People will always let me down.”
“I have to look out for myself.”
“I can’t trust anyone.”
“I can’t be trusted.”
“I’m a bad person.”
“I’ll only hurt others and let them down.”
“I deserve to be hurt.”
“Nobody gets me.”
“I have no one.”

Seriously, who wants to go through life with a story like that?

Things happen. How you interpret them is going to become part of your story, that’s inevitable. But you are in charge of what you make it mean. Don’t stop at assumption. Don’t short-change yourself. Look at your identity, the stories you tell yourself about who you are, where do they come from?

Our identity is often comprised of a series of coping mechanisms and defences we created to deal with the challenges in life and our limited understanding of them. You don’t need to lock yourself into an identity that was created to address life situations you may no longer inhabit.

Take any of the above statements and picture a friend saying them – how would you react? Would you tell them they were being ridiculous? Would you rush to reassure them that those things are simply not true? Would you help them find ways of turning their thinking around?

Good. Now go look in a mirror, and do the same thing.

“I’m worth everything.”
“I’m beautiful.”
“I’m happy in my skin.”
“I’m someone worth knowing.”
“I’m good at anything I put my mind to.”
“I value and respect my family relationships.”
“People want to be there for me.”
“I can learn to let people in.”
“I have faith in people.”
“I am trustworthy and reliable.”
“I am a good person.”
“I am committed to having positive relationships with others.”
“I deserve to reach my potential.”
“I have many unique qualities to offer people.”
“I have a strong and supportive network.”

Life’s too short to build your identity based on negativity and pain. Embrace change, embrace love, embrace a more authentic and connected life

blog: life has always felt a little shaky

When it comes to medical dramas I was a Chicago Hope fan back in the day.  And one character who only appeared on one episode somehow was able to sum up my whole life experience in one sentence; Carole Kane (as Marguerite Birch) says, “Life has always felt a little shaky to me, ya know?” That one line from that one episode has lived rent-free in my head ever since.

I’ve never felt I had a full grasp on life, on reality or sanity.  I live in that half-light world between dreams and waking; time is and always has been a very loose concept for me. I’ve always felt broken somehow, like a puzzle whose pieces don’t quite lock into place – even if you complete the picture, it will never look cohesive; it will always look like an ill-fitting mesh of laminated cardboard, instead of a landscape or a building or whatever is depicted on the front of the box.  And yet, this dissonance with life and with reality allows me to step outside myself and appreciate things in a way I could not if I were a fully integrated soul.  

In my head, I live in a world without absolutes.  A world where there is no real truth, where “truth” is just what resonates more succinctly with the feeling of being genuine and authentic; and I understand that what resonates with each individual is different and yet no less valid.  A place full of grey areas, a world without the safety net of moral convictions and to quote the great Ozzy Osbourne, “indisputable gods”.  

My Jesus is not your Jesus.  Your Yahweh is not my God.  Our interpretations of scripture, of faith and belief are different; they have to be, because *we* are different.  And so I walk the tightrope dividing the chasm of belief vs unbelief, the same mantra on my lips as was breathed by a grieving father centuries ago: “Lord, I believe!  Help my unbelief!” 

I am a conflicted soul.  I am a skeptic and a romantic all in one.  I have rarely known the comfort and security of unconditional love, and yet I believe in its value with all my heart.  I have seen magic and wonder with my own eyes and can never be convinced that these do not exist.  My world is one of art, of poetry, of chasing after beauty and that elusive nymph called Truth.  I will fight with my last breath for love and the right of the individual to be free to follow one’s own path.  

This conflicts with the actual world I live in – a world of facts and figures, a world of taxes, paycheques and mortgages.  A world of text messages, emails, and appointment books.  A world of black & white interpretations of scripture, of proscribed concepts of the Divine and of regimented worship.  A world of “shoulds” and “musts”.  A world of rat races, KPIs and deadlines.  Of social engagement, social politics, social rules, social media.  A world of white noise. 

Thus my need for solitude and isolation, my need to escape into a reality to which I feel more aligned, a world of infinite beauty and love.  Nature is and always has been my church. The swirl of leaves on a blustery autumn day is my cathedral.  The sounds lovers and friends make when they see each other after a long absence is my hymnal.  The warmth of a robust, frothy cappuccino in a mug is my sacrament. A book of poetry is my holy text.  The beauty of the pulse of life when it’s being lived to the fullest… This is my spirituality and my inspiration.  

This is why I say, “Blessed be.”  This is the peace I wish to everyone.  Love and be loved, celebrate life and let life celebrate you.  Look at reality from different angles, find joy and inspiration on this gorgeous day.  

blog: a charlie brown christmas

I’ve never had a big family. My previous relationship provided me with plenty of family to call my own, and for almost 5 years Christmas was about breakfasts and brunches and big family gatherings where there was plenty of food and trips up the coast with brother & sister-in-law to see the kids’ mum for boxing day… but it was all borrowed; it wasn’t really mine. And when the relationship ended, so too did the familial ties. With my own family living overseas, and my current partner’s family not celebrating Christmas, it’s just the two of us and probably always will be.

The problem is, I love Christmas. I’m one of those people who can’t wait to put up the tree and plug in the fairy lights. I have Christmas stockings for the cats. I send Christmas cards every year. I love carols services and going into the CBD shopping centres to look at the massive, decorated trees and window displays; I love the maple and cinnamon flavoured coffees in the cafes this time of year. I whip up my mother’s chicken & dressing recipe and her marshmallow salad every year and I sometimes even bake.

But this year, I’m not feeling it. This is probably the worst Christmas I’ve ever had, because I’ve been dwelling on all the things I DON’T have, instead of counting my blessings and accepting that this year is just not going to measure up to what I think Christmas is “supposed” to be in my mind. So I’ve been putting a lot of thought into what Christmas really means, what it can mean, for me. I was at a church service today and during the sermon the pastor said, “People don’t need THINGS, they need hope. They don’t need presents, they need PEACE.” That had such an authenticity to it, that I feel at peace with the season now for the first time since all the Christmas hoo-haa began.

My partner and I talked about about getting each other gifts this year, but we don’t really need anything. Oh, I’m sure he’d like to have some new gaming paraphernalia, and I wouldn’t mind a new wallet or a nice spice rack, but we’re not in desperate need. I told him what I’d really like for Christmas is to get bond together for a new place to live – something with a decent hot water system, no ants, and air-con for our suffering pets. A roof over our heads where we can heal and recharge and be a family under one roof again. No Xbox or handbag or pair of shoes or iTunes gift card can replace the feeling of feeling safe and happy and secure. So that’s what we’re giving each other this year – the gift of HOME.

It makes me wonder at the phrase, “Celebrate Christmas”. Christianity tells us Christmas is the observation of the birth of Christ which heralded the salvation of mankind. Secularists believe the real meaning of Christmas is spending time with and spreading love and joy among family and friends. But in either case, we choose to “celebrate” this beautiful, peaceful and joyous occasion… how? With gifts, money, material things.

I invite you to try on the concept of having a Christmas lunch with your loved ones, without the tree, without the lights, without exchanging a single gift. Could you do it? Could you still maintain the feelings of peace, love, joy and glad tidings? Or have we fallen into the trap of needing these window dressings to set our holiday stage for us and put us in the mood?

The over-commercialisation of Christmas has been the major theme of sermons, movies and books for at least a hundred years. “A Charlie Brown Christmas” which debuted in 1965 is an animated film starring Charles M Schultz’ Peanuts gang, where Charlie Brown learns about the “true meaning of Christmas”. And it’s a conversation still relevant, if not more so, these days. It’s a question everyone has to answer for themselves – what makes Christmas for you? And if what makes Christmas is the material things, what happens when you are in a position where you don’t have those things?

I’m not judging, I hope everyone out there has a lovely Christmas full of family gatherings, brightly wrapped presents, and all the good food they can stuff into their mouths (and then some!). But for those who don’t, I wish there was a way to let them know that that’s alright too.

Because you don’t need ribbons and bows and fairy lights and Christmas puddings to celebrate Christmas. You just need to have a clear understanding of what Christmas is for you, and find your own way to honour that in your lives. And if you’re stuck at home all alone on Christmas day, rest assured that dancing around in your underwear eating candy canes is a perfectly acceptable way to celebrate. :)

blog: but for the grace of God

My South African friend taught me a word – “omgewings gestremdheid”. Don’t ask me to pronounce it! Translated, it means “environmentally impaired” and means someone who is not just disadvantaged or constrained by their environment, but who is impaired to the point of having little to no hope of breaking free of that environment.

My Afrikaans lesson came about because there is a community on my doorstep you could say is bad even by Western Sydney standards. Housing commission, drug deals, burnt out cars up on blocks, shootings and stabbings, domestic violence and dole cheques, it’s got the lot. But it’s also a community with a big heart, and there are a lot of people with equally big hearts working from within the community to bring about real transformation.

Earlier this year, four boys aged 13 to 16 went to Tasmania for a 10 day wilderness trek up Mt Ossa, and their journey was captured by a 16-year-old film-maker. Tonight there was a screening of the documentary, projected against the wall of the local shopping centre which has been closed for years now. In fact, the only things in the Square now seem to be the tavern/bottle shop, and in strange juxtaposition, the local Uniting church. And as we gathered on the car park of the closed shopping centre to watch the movie, some of the boys from the film were there, and the crowd was a little rough and rowdy, but overall a spirit of laughter, generosity and “keeping it real” prevailed.

But for all the talk about the “heart” and “community spirit” of the area, there’s still the drugs, the shootings, the stabbings, the serial convictions and jail sentences, the ready fist, the too-loud laughter and the occasional “Git FARRRRKED!!”. It’s part of the community’s heritage and its legacy. It’s what keeps this place ‘environmentally impaired’. Change is happening, but who you are inside, where you’re from, that never goes away. It becomes part of what shapes you, what makes you decide to do what you do and think what you think.

And I think that’s okay. Life is not a hallmark greeting card, or a neat story arc in a Hollywood movie. Life is not always pretty. Sometimes, life is pretty damn dark. And some people, when faced with that darkness, crumble – maybe because the gap between their expectations and their reality is too great for them to cope. But others embrace the darkness, see it as a challenge; these are the people who stick out their chin and say to life, “Give us ya best shot!” And sometimes they roll with the punches, and sometimes they don’t… but the important thing is, they got in the arena and gave it a go. That’s what I like to think the people of this community are like – people who know life’s not perfect, but they’ll be damned if they’ll let the rest of society determine their worth for them.

I see a lot of myself in this. I’ve been through a lot in my life. I’ve battled some pretty tough demons, including alcoholism and homelessness. And I thought I had closed the book on that chapter of my life, I came out of it fairly unscathed, I don’t need to be that person any more so time to put it behind me and move on with my life, right? But it never really goes away. It’s part of who I am and always will be. I am struggling lately with things I thought were long buried; I can see it affecting my life, my relationships, and my chance to break free from the emotional environment I’m in. But one thing I’m learning is that it does no good to deny the past. I can’t change my experiences – but I’m coming to realise I CAN change what I learned from them.

I hope that I can learn to have the strength to keep it real, acknowledge my past and my imperfections, and realise that it doesn’t have to stop me from achieving wholeness and completeness in my life. I don’t have to worry about labelling myself a victim OR a survivor, I just need to worry about getting in the arena and seeing how well I can take a punch… it may help to have a few friendly faces ringside though. :)