Wednesday 15 November 2017

Courage

Sing Song Show Time 2017



For all families, the constant juggle to balance home and work life can make the grind of daily activities mundane and mechanical. DH and I agreed a long time ago that wherever possible, we would allow each other to have some ‘alone’ time where we could recharge our batteries and also rediscover ourselves. Sometimes doing things that are outside our comfort zone can help us re-evaluate our priorities and also discover new things that can be important to us.

Growing up, I was given every opportunity to explore and develop my skills in extracurricular activities. I was also fortunate enough to attend a wonderful school where we were taught that provided we put in the hard work, we could do anything we wanted and female empowerment was a key focus. Consequently, I’ve generally been able to approach new experiences with the idea that even if I wasn’t particularly good at something I could still give it a go. This fearlessness however seems to be inversely proportional to age. The older I get, the more frightened I become to do new things. This blog included. It has been particularly petrifying for me to write about my feelings when I am not a writer. One of the things that gave me the courage to do it was attending Clare Bowditch’s singing and courage masterclass otherwise known as sing song showtime workshop.

Ironically I signed up for this work shop to try and encourage my mum to sing. Through much financial and emotional sacrifice, my parents gave me the gift of music. Something for which I will be eternally grateful. So, although my no means professional, I am certainly comfortable enough in group music situations. Mum on the other hand is a particularly modest and self-conscious woman who although loves music has always felt like she cannot sing and would not dream of doing it in public.

For those that don’t know who Bowditch is, she is an inspirational woman who happens to be an ARIA winning musician, actor, radio presenter and business entrepreneur. She runs several one day workshops a year at Abbotsford Convent in Melbourne. Singers and non-singers participate in this event and by the end of the day they perform a short concert for friends and families as a large choir. Clare’s philosophy is that anyone who can talk can sing. She is candidly open and honest about her own struggles and insecurities even as a professional musician.

“One day, it occurred to me that my fear of singing in public was really just a metaphor for my larger fears in life: the fear that if I showed you who I was, if I spoke my truth, if I made myself vulnerable, I would be criticized.” (Clare Bowditch)

Throughout the day, the group learn songs together, tell stories, share food and Clare gives you some tools to face your fears and explore your vulnerabilities. Participants are encouraged to draw from each other’s life experiences and share their own stories. Her warmth and passion for singing and for every single participant is infectious. At the end of the day we all dress up a little and perform a small concert for our family and friends. 

It was such an uplifting day and I was reminded of the pure joy that can come from something as simple as singing. Mum came away from the experience entertaining the prospect of joining a community choir. (A major step forward!)  I came away motivated to allow myself to write and try to shake off those shackles of self-doubt and judgement. Thank you Clare for giving me courage! 

Anyone looking for an inspirational and joyful experience should definitely consider the sing song showtime workshop. More information can be found on Clare’s website http://bigheartedbusiness.com.au . 




             

Saturday 4 November 2017

Diagnosis Part 3 - Grief


GRIEF - Oil Painting by Kim Neil

The loss of a dream, a hope, direction, the loss of peace, the struggle with forgiveness: how do I deal with this? How do I let go? How do I have hope? 
“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:19


This painting which I love was painted by a very talented friend, Kim Neil. To purchase this painting or for more information about Kim please visit: https://bluethumb.com.au/kim-neil/Artwork/grief-kim-neil 




Even when I returned home with a firm diagnosis, I began having conflicting conversations with myself in my inner head.

‘They have probably got it wrong. Surely my sweet, loving son is not on the spectrum. He loves to be touched and cuddled. He has a sense of humour and he is so funny.’

'Don’t forget how terrified he becomes on a windy day, and what about that time he completely lost it at the beach? Other kids you know don’t do that!’

‘He participates happily and follows instructions in group activites like gymbaroo and loves swimming.’

‘He does seem to hate loud sounds and the wind terrifies him, surely this demonstrates some sensory processing disorder.’

'He loves going out to the park and has pretty good gross motor skills.'


I was clearly going through the well described stages of grief; Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance. I grieved that my child would have challenges that other children wouldn’t. I grieved that he may not have the social skills to cultivate strong relationships. I grieved that we would have to spend precious family time learning skills most children innately knew how to do, and most importantly I grieved that he may not have the life that I had dreamed for him. Even though we have come a long way since then, there are still occasional moments or situations when these raw emotions of grief recur.

One of the interesting things about diagnosis was comparing the different way in which it affected my dear husband (DH) and I. DH has had a much more pragmatic approach to diagnosis. Although I am sure he experienced some feelings of sorrow, he pretty much jumped from being a bit ambivalent about me seeking assessments to accepting the diagnosis. Although amazingly supportive, his view was that this was a positive step as now we could focus our attention on educating ourselves on what we needed to do to best support J. I remember one evening where I had to ask him to allow me some time to be sad, let me cry and not try to ‘solve’ anything. This was an important process in allowing me to come to terms with what this meant for us long term. 

It would be presumptuous of me to summarise DH’s journey through all of this. Like many couples, we often have very different reactions to our emotions, possibly just by virtue of being of a different sex. What is clear however, is how important the two of us having a united approach towards moving forward has been for us as a couple and a family.

In the months following diagnosis, DH and I started to navigate our new journey. I have always been someone that is happy to seek help when needed and utilise my available resources. The internet provided plenty of reading and I found great comfort in reading about other people’s stories. (I shall post some links of resources I have found useful in a future entry.) Sometimes the stories made me feel guilty as our challenges seemed to pale in significance compared to what others were dealing with. Other times it gave me practical advice and hope for the future. Most importantly, it made me realise that there were and are many others sharing similar journeys and this alone is extremely comforting.

Despite our challenges I feel so lucky. My greatest champions have always been my family. Their unwaivering support and unconditional love in any situation have allowed me to work through any situation. Since going public with this blog I have also had so much support from friends, many of whom have described similar experiences in their own lives and I hope to be able to share some of these stories in the future.