The Blues Strike Back

Have you ever had an ailment or chronic condition that disappeared in response to medication or lifestyle modifications, yet you didn't realise how far you'd progressed until one day it all came back?

Well, that's what happened to me this week.

Since adopting a low GI (Glycemic Index) diet several months ago, my moods have stabilised and I have generally been feeling positive for days on end. I cannot remember a time when I felt content day after day, week after week, even month after month. A miracle really.

This ongoing cheer was particularly surprising when I returned from our European summer to a cold and drizzling Melbourne winter. I kept waiting for the bubble to burst and the blues to return, but I managed to keep it at bay. That is, until Sunday.

I woke up Sunday feeling flat and gave myself permission to rest after a succession of hectic weeks with trips to Adelaide, my brother's wedding, fairy parties and numerous dinner dates. I didn't feel much better yesterday and today I can say I honestly feel the blues. This is particularly perplexing since we depart for Bali on Thursday. Shouldn't I be full of rapture and delight?

Tomorrow I have an appointment with my healthcare practitioner who diagnosed me with high insulin levels earlier this year. I am interested to see if there is a biochemical explanation to my current blueish state... or perhaps it has something to do with the big four O coming up in three weeks time. Not that I'm upset about the number, but perhaps I thought my life would be different to what it is today. Who knows.

Until tomorrow, take time to acknowledge how far you've come in health matters and pray they do not return.

Grace xx

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He loves me

After yesterday's open heart blog post, I arose this morning feeling post operative and rather sensitive. I was home alone for the most part of the day as Patrick had a 5am start. When he returned this afternoon I was eager to speed up the healing process and asked if he could help me get through this sticking point. He obliged.

I proceeded to explain that while I clearly knew I was having an overreaction to yesterday's bum burner incident, I was struggling to move on. After distilling my cocktail of emotions, I was able to identify the key feeling that started the domino effect. I felt 'forgotten', which in turn took me to the familiar story of being unloved.

While I cannot recall the initial incident that wrote the script, I can certainly remember the many occasions when this reaction played out like a theatrical drama. It would only take the the smallest trigger for me to translate it into 'they don't love me' and from then on it was lights, camera, action - the show was on.

As an adult I know that we all have moments when we say and do things that inadvertently hurt those we love, but that doesn't mean we no longer love them. This leads me to believe that our emotional scripts have been written by the hands of our younger selves LONG before we earned our pen licence. Something happened that we (with all the wisdom of a four year old) translated to mean that we're in some way unlovable, and from that moment on it become our truth.

Patrick was utterly brilliant this afternoon. Knowing that the genesis of my feelings occurred in 1970-something, he was able to create the space that enabled me to explore this freely.

Result? I was able to separate his actions from my recurring 'unlovable' saga and reach a point of peace. To top it all off, he put his arms around me in a reassuring embrace and said things that were for my ears only... and left me in the knowledge that he love me.

Until tomorrow, don't be afraid to ask those you love to help you through a sticking point.

Grace xx

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Happy 75th Birthday Dalai Lama

Today marks the Dalai Lama's 75th birthday.

You know when you're asked "If there's anybody in the world, dead or alive, that you could have dinner with - who would it be?"?

More often than not, I'll answer "The Dalai Lama".

I don't know what I'd say to his holiness face to face as I had a hard enough time signing his birthday global tribute.

His balding head, square glasses and warming smile reminds me of my late grandfather - though I'm not so sure that's appropriate dinner conversation.

What I'd like to know is how he feels. What's it like to be a world spiritual leader. Did he graciously accept his destiny or were there times when he questioned it. I'd like to know the human being behind the smile and the words of wisdom.

In the meantime, I'll keep feeling all warm and fuzzy over his likeness to my beloved Nonno. That'll be our secret.

Until tomorrow, is there someone in the world that you'd like to have dinner with? If so, who and why?

Grace xx

PS. Back in France on day one of our pre-tour reconnaissance. The tour starts in one week and we have a LOT of work to do - yikes!

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Get Naked

Today marks one week since I revealed my premature menopause diagnosis (aka POF and POI).

Writing about it was one of the most difficult, yet liberating actions I have taken since embarking on Project Grace 2010. It left me feeling exposed and emotionally vulnerable.

My decision to dedicate the next five days to each stage of grief was to help overcome this feeling of being totally naked in front of the world (all three of you), as well as providing a supportive, loving and inspiring space for those currently grieving.

At first I was bothered by the lack of participation on what I'd hoped would be a global conversation. Then I learned something.

It turns out that many people I know are mourning all kinds of losses outside of my implied subject of infertility. Demised friendships, broken relationships, betrayal, end of marriages, lost custody of children, heartbreaking miscarriages and deaths of loved ones.

Each could relate to the sense of grief and loss. Each sought comfort and consolation. But no one wanted to share it publicly.

Why?

I wonder...

Perhaps exposing our raw feelings is not unlike being naked. Some people can happily prance about in their birthday suits in front of complete strangers (life models, nudists, performing artists, porn stars and streakers on a football field), however for many the thought is inconceivable.

There is both vulnerability and strength in being able to stand nude in front of others. And by nude, I mean physically (no clothes), emotionally (no bull$hit), and metaphorically (no make up). I've had my fair share of nudity - both literally and figuratively - and I'm okay with it. Yes it's uncomfortable at first, but the overall feeling of freedom far outweighs any initial concern or discomfort.

Until tomorrow, where in life can you get naked?

Grace xx

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Honouring those at Stage II - Anger

Today I received a rather abrupt email that ended in the words:

"I was always told that I was born with very few eggs and that's why I went through POF. As a result, my ovaries became small. Did I/they miss something? Thoughts?"

I have just finished writing my response and after sending it, I started to wonder - am I in stage 1 denial and is she in stage 2 anger?

Here's my response:

"When I hear the 'theory' that women are born with a finite number of eggs and that when they run out, it's all over for them (in terms of procreation), I get a deep feeling saying 'that just doesn't make sense'.

Perhaps Christopher Columbus had the same gut feeling when he sailed out into a world that was supposedly flat.

I just don't buy it, it seems illogical when you look at how procreation works in nature. I have seen apparently infertile plants (i.e. grape vines and two lemon trees) unable to bear fruit for years and years and years, suddenly bud and sprout fruit again (as a result of careful nurturing and a change in their conditions).

This is what makes me think there's something else going on in our bodies that human beings haven't quite figured out yet. There's already evidence of POF women who've had shrivelled up ovaries and /or no visible follicles in ultrasound that go on to have babies. This in itself negates the theory.

A friend that I met via a POF support website nine years ago is a living breathing example of this (as are her two miracles born a few years apart). I think it's just a matter of time before we read an article that says science has been getting that one wrong.

It's only my view, but it is my view.

In the meantime, I think it's really important to be supportive of those who are in the early stages of their POF journey... all I'm saying is that we have to be sensitive to them and their feelings.

For many the diagnosis will be like the death of their babies, for they would have imagined them, dreamed of them and named them (I know I did). I understand there are other ways of becoming a parent and that it takes more than a biological link that makes you a mother. I know all that and I get it. But it wasn't an overnight insight.

It took me time to get over the devastation and initial sense of loss when I first received the news and I'm sure there are many women who are still in that devastation stage. That's who I'm appealing to."

So today is dedicated to all those who are in the anger stage of their grieving. Whether that's you, or reminds you of the unspoken anger you once felt - please feel free to express yourself below. Today is about you.

Until tomorrow, create space to vent anger - it is better out than in.

Grace xx

Does every cloud have a silver lining? In memory of James Williamson

I'd planned to write a light-hearted upbeat piece after yesterday's pensive post.

I was looking at my current state of affairs, trying to find the funny side of having a parking ticket, overdue bill notice and a sink full of dishes.

No sooner did I come up with the title 'Dark side of the spoon' (which I thought was a stroke of genius) when I noticed Patrick staring at his phone, his face depleted of joy.

"James Williamson died at the Cape Epic" he said in a stunned, monotone.

"James? The same James we met at the Greek restaurant?"

"Yes, same James"

"WHAT????????"

Both in complete shock, our hearts sank. We were, and are, in disbelief.

Patrick and I met the wonderful, friendly, down-to-earth, sweet James one week before he was to fly to South Africa to compete in the Cape Epic. We were moved by James' gentle and joyful nature, vowing to catch up with him when he returned (you know when you meet someone special and say "I'd like to be friends with that person" and then imagine how you would form such a friendship? Well, that was our experience with James).

James (it's so hard to say) was 26 years of age and editor of Enduro magazine. He'd been a World Champion mountain biker, which I only found out today after Googling the cause (which is still unknown - he was unable to be roused by his team mate in the morning). James was so unassuming I had no idea he was a champion, and yet I'm not surprised that he was.

James was so, so, so lovely... and so, so, so young.

What I want to know is, does every cloud have a silver lining?

As much as I've searched, I just can't seem to find it today.

James was excited about his trip to South Africa, it was something he'd looked forward to for a long time. While we're expected to 'look at the bright side' of the situation and be thankful that he was happy and got to live out his dream, I can't help feel that this is all too premature. Someone so lovely is surely needed on Earth a little bit longer (if not a lot longer).

All I feel is sadness. Sadness and loss. Remarkable considering I'd only spent a few hours sitting across the table from him; such was the impression he'd left on me (I feel indulgent expressing my upset and cannot fathom what his girlfriend, family and friends are feeling right now).

Do we always have to see the bright side of everything? Can't we just be sad because some things are just plain sad. I totally appreciate how we don't want to get bogged by sorrow. I know we're encouraged to move on. I can see how being 'stuck' can play havoc with our lives. But surely it's okay to be sad when something like this happens, isn't it?

Sometimes I feel that constant optimism can be tiring and, to be honest, a little fake if we can't honour the times when things upset us.

While many new age dialogues are worthy of consideration, I question the subject of death. We're told that sadness comes from our attitude and the stories we tell ourselves. That by changing our meaning of death, we'd somehow change our emotional response to it. We're told there are cultures where death is celebrated - where are they? I've never seen them and wonder if it's all a myth.

What I have seen, are dogs lamenting over the loss of a loved one. I have heard their weeping wails, I have seen their long faces and I have felt their distress. I ask my self - is that because they have a negative attitude? Are they just responding to the stories they tell themselves? Do they need to change their meaning of death? My answer is - I think not.

I've concluded that it's okay to be upset by death. Dare I say, it's normal.

Sometimes, I think it's okay to not feel you have to be strong. I think it's okay to cry. I think it's okay to be sad. I think it's okay not to have explanations or answers. I think it's okay if things don't make sense. The secret is, not to get 'stuck' in the weakness, the tears, the sorrow, the unexplained un-knowingness and the senselessness.

There is a time for grief, a time for mourning, and a time for moving on.

To all the family, friends and colleagues of James Williamson, and to Niki, I feel for your loss. I hope your path to healing and resolve is swift. To James, may your spirit ride on forever.

Until tomorrow, a place in time where we assume we'll be...

Grace xx

Why is it so hard to put yourself first?

I figured this has something to do with my genetic coding.

Descending from Italian heritage, it is beyond impolite to put yourself first. Words like evil, selfish, 'bestia' and 'putana' quickly spring to mind.

Why is it so difficult to put yourself first - is it wrong?

Does this chronic condition erode your soul so slowly that you don't even know it's having an impact on you?

I keep casting my mind back to the in-flight security instructions; fix oxygen mask on yourself before helping others - is this not an instruction for life?

What good are we to anyone if we are dead or dying?

The moment I started Project Grace 2010, I felt empowered. I had established a purpose, one that I was passionate about - to find the lost me before I reach 40 (hey that rhymes!). I became inspired and eagerly anticipated how my days would unfold - how could I challenge myself so I had something juicy to write?

Then I made a 'rule' - not to blog on weekends, thinking that I might lose myself in the process. Ironically, I lost myself because I stopped blogging.

You see, if I'm being honest with myself, the real reason I made this rule was to save my relationships. I thought that focussing on my project 7 days a week could pose a significant threat to the relationship with my husband, my parents, family and friends. I couldn't fathom turning my back on my responsibilities in favour of my blog - not that blogging takes a huge amount of time... but it does take focus and commitment to deliver.

Essentially, my rule translated to "other people are more important than my blog (which as you know is about my project, which is about restoring me) and I need to be available for them during the weekend".

Without realising what I'd done, I had devalued Project Grace 2010 and no longer made it priority - meaning I no longer made me a priority.

I found myself saying "yes" to things I didn't want to say yes to and with each obligatory promise and action, I could feel myself become more tired, uninspired and by the time I climbed into bed last night, I was completely miserable.

So is this how I lost myself?

With this new insight, I will continue to choose making Project Grace 2010 a priority despite my default setting of wanting to put others first (see pic). This is a new realm I am entering, one that is making me squirm on one hand and feel slightly elated on the other.

In the words of the great 80's duo Wham! "CHOOSE LIFE" to which I respond:

To you: "CHOOSE YOU"

To me: "CHOOSE ME"

Until tomorrow...

Love, hugs and freedom of choice,

Grace xx