Winkie Studio

Me, Myself & I

In the big universal scheme of things - I am a speck! So the possibility of an all-seeing, all knowing, omnipotent power or energy, being interested in me - seems to be completely improbable, highly unlikely and totally implausible. But let me tell you something.... this speck, this individual, who is ME, MYSELF and I, we have made a pact. 2018 may have been a year for tragedy, illness, loss, heart-ache and a whole mess of trouble - but it provided me with some solid challenges. I rose to those challenges and at the times when I honestly thought I just could not continue, I surrendered to sleep. I drew up the courage and strength to muddle through my mess to make things right again. So, I was first confronted with a barrage of issues at my workplace. Politically, it is not prudent to kick against these pressures, so I withdrew from the situation and reduced my exposure by going part time. This worked. Excellent. The accumulated lack of self-confidence during this time challenged me to be positive and to seek a better opportunity. I decided to join a story-telling group and fell in with some pretty wonderful people who bravely showed me that it’s okay to second guess myself. When you falter, you reflect. When you reflect you discover. When you discover, you rethink strategies. When you rethink strategies - life paths alter their trajectory. Illness visited and I was bedridden. Coughing, whooping and wheezing and a collapsed right lung with a heightened desire to be pain free occupied my main frame 24/7. Doctors - all five - didn’t agree. My doctor, Doctor Raph - came back from holidays and knew immediately what was wrong and sent me to hospital in a loud ambulance, where I was hooked up to all sorts of contraptions. Friends from work collected my car and 3 days later I came home to casseroles on the bench, fresh produce in the fridge and a pile of flowers to show I was regarded with love. This forced me to doggedly push myself back to school and was greeted by some pretty special students who were all glad I’d returned. Having recovered this setback, I received a call from my beloved brother who told me in his inimitably honest way, that he had terminal bone cancer. Nine weeks later - he was gone. Nothing could have prepared me for this. The devastation of my lifelong hero dying in front of my eyes was more than I could bear. While I stayed upright throughout this and drove to Melbourne 5 times to see him and to wait and to watch and to yearn for a miracle, I couldn’t comprehend that this, larger than life individual, who had been my mentor, my voice of reason and the only man who could tell me what he thought and have me listen - would ever pass away. I have never wanted to hear a voice again so badly as I do his. The second to last visit before the funeral he called us one by one to say goodbye. We had been there all day while he languished and then he revived and came to. Who knew? I crept to the seat beside his bed and laid my head on his chest and he leaned over and whispered: “Little sis - for goodness sake, you’ve got to get your s**t together, love. You can’t go on like this. Get him out of your house and get your life back. Finish what you said you’d do - please. I love you!” Then he leaned back on the pillow, opened his eyes and promptly asked: “What are all you bastards doin’ here?” I had a brief resurgence of shingles round about that time too. How lovely! Such a pretty name - shingles? A bit like a Christmas jingle - or something, but far more sinister. Anyway, I got through that. Then out of curiosity, I contacted a finance manager at my credit union, to just catch up on the housing market and asked her randomly - will I ever be able to own property again? I had a half mortgage with an ex-husband and she cheerfully informed me that the market had had a resurge and if the property valuation came in high enough, there would be enough equity for me to buy him out and to have the property transferred into my name. The legal implications and the likelihood of him agreeing to my terms, sent me into a panic. But I moved slowly and was given some sage advice by my sister, my sisters in-law and some very good friends. I waded through the arguments and then wrote a barrage of reasons to proceed with the idea of owning my own house again and returning there to live. I found a lawyer who was prepared to lay everything on the line for me. The good, bad and ugly and that was at a hefty price. I put down the pitfalls on big post-it notes and stuck them on walls and mirrors around the house. I wrote the benefits in thick highlighter and stuck them all over the walls and wardrobes and doors as well. Consequently the place looked hilarious. But those little messages were continual reminders that: I COULD DO THIS. Then I went back to my doctor and admitted that I did need medical counselling. I’d been to psychologists and counsellors over the years, who simpered and blathered patronising twaddle and I wasn’t looking forward to it, at all. But again, my doctor, my Arch Angel Doctor Raph recommended a colleague who has now become such a trusted wonderful advisor and dear friend. Just talking with her once a month gives me a solid ground on which to put my feet. I’m here to say we all need someone who has experienced hard times. Her pathway has been cancer and she is such a beacon of human empathy for me. So this is a must - make a habit of SURROUNDING YOURSELF WITH GENUINE PEOPLE! All the while - my storytelling expanded. A book I’d started two years before, was sent to the publisher and it is now ready. Celio’s Mountain, went to press on November 12 after my brother’s funeral and I knew that the dedication was meant to be for him. My procrastination gave me the opportunity to have him noted and recorded as my hero - the man whose strength of character was blatant for all to see and a person who knew me best. Then my Credit Union friend called with excellent news - yes, you can get a loan! I was ecstatic. So the process began. I stepped out in faith and drew up what I felt was a reasonable contract. All criticisms aside and armed with enough reasons to resent my ex - I decided to swallow all of my pent up fury and call him. He accepted my terms. He accepted the legal documents and signed them. He agreed to leave the premises when it came time for the mortgage to be discharged and the property to settle. Astonishment is not something this cynic does very well, but I have to say, his compliance was beyond anything I had ever expected. Even right up to the time of writing this, he was obliging and being quite accommodating. Again - who knew? This gave me added confidence and I leaned on a faith I believed I had lost a long time ago. My feeble, human efforts of trying to sort myself out had resulted in a tangled, jumble of accumulated junk and detritus, that I am now happily distributing to churches, charities, Salvation Army depots and to that wonder of wonders, www.Gumtree.com.au, to rid myself of what I thought would bring me relief. The only thing that brings me relief now is: ALLOWING. When you allow others to speak and invite their honesty - you have to be prepared and expect your ego to be smacked pretty sharply in the face. It was and it did and it hurt, but I now am doing what my brother suggested: getting my s**t together. The road is going to be tough - I’ve got kilometres to travel each week - but the High School I am privileged to work for, has accommodated my needs and has been and will still continue to be incredibly kind, compassionate and supportive. Not only that - they love me. That helps! Looking back, not so many months ago, I was doubled over in heart ache and tears as I packed the garden pots from around my country home. In that instant I discovered my heart was yearning for the house, the garden, the property, the sky, the sunsets and the landscape that I’d moved there for, years before. My hopes for this patch of land were dying. My dreams of re-foresting were dead in the water. My vision to try out a new form of irrigation would never see the light of day. What I had identified was my desire to MAKE A DIFFERENCE. I believed that planting trees, making my garden sustainable, bringing native wildlife back to my 12 acres would revive this patch of country. That serving the community, whose children I had taught for 13 years, I could bring a warmth and a confidence and a belief that a simple act of human kindness and a compassionate service on my part, would make that part of the world a happy place. My happy place. So - this speck who is me, has come a long way. I have journeyed and seen and experienced a lot and I don’t wish to go through it again - but I now know who my friends are. I’ve come to know who I can trust and the most important person is MYSELF. I’ve allowed healing and growth and learning and while I’ll always bless my life for having such a precious brother, I endeavour to use his torch of courage and honesty to propel myself forward, every day. My little list of encouragements, include: Don’t underestimate my own wisdom. Follow my gut instincts and listen to my heart. It may sound cliche, but you ignore it at your own peril. Meditate and listen to my body and then get to understand how words and actions impact my attitudes and thoughts - my health. These all contribute to the DNA that continues to sustain my life. When I realise my honour and identify WHO I AM and what MY PURPOSE is, the inner strength starts to bubble up and I can feel the courage build within my own soul’s bastion. So I look to the future for strength, courage and understanding and to realise that this speck, that is me, represents a vital part of a whole that can make the world a beautiful place to be. ..... there is great love here for you Selah, Joy N Perkins