Because of You

I live an inspired life.

I sleep soundly.

I wake with a smile on my face.

 

Because of you

I have learned to walk in stride.

To accept what comes my way.

 

Because of you

I am deeply humbled.

I am eternally grateful.

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Everyday Superheroes

Huge eyes bulge from their sockets in full Cocker Spaniel spiel, more cute than ugly and loaded in a love that oozes past the film of mucus that has turned those eyes from brown to grey, probably because of the recent marathon surgery and sedation. Little moans come in spasms of mooing coos. This poor girl has been through the trauma of her life, having two vets slice the length of her underside to remove a mammary gland chain. Cancer, whether in pets or humans, is a shit of a thing. Her surgery came at the pinnacle of a most gruelling week.

I sit here now from the summit, listening to my poor little girl’s moans. My son, who had the responsibility of bringing her home from the vet after her surgery, told me not to look at her wound as it would be too upsetting. He knows me well. Her cancer is terminal and although I can say it easily enough, I can't think about it. Not when I see Schnooze splayed to her side, her nose snuggled into her sister. Teddi has moped about these past days, lost without Schnooze. The two have been inseparable for the past eight years, until this point.

I think of her as my little hero for what she’s endured. But that’s not quite the right word. In fact, I don’t like the word hero for it means a person who has performed some courageous act or is of a 'noble character'. Yet everyone performs courageous acts all the time, acts that influence and affect others and contribute to this world. And mostly, quietly and unassumingly, without any fanfare and any need for recognition.

The dictionary also states that a hero is ‘a person who, in the opinion of others, has special achievements, abilities, or personal qualities and is regarded as a role model or ideal.’ This makes me gag! Special achievements. Really? It sounds more like an adoration developed in response to this modern world’s insatiable appetite for the need to be special and recognised, of people to be revered for being exceptional for any celebrity or voyeuristic reason.

Maybe that’s part of the problem with humanity right now, this need to be special when in fact, everyone has their own special abilities and qualities, their own level of achievement and success, however different it is from one person to the other. Maybe that’s why there is so much judgement in the world and so little acceptance and appreciation.

Those that read my words have heard me talk of my brother. While he’s unable to function in the way that mainstream life allows, he does function, and extremely well. His paranoia that can’t be ‘cured’ means he can’t enter a supermarket or walk in his own backyard for fear of people spying on him and his mind is in constant battle with demons that interweave with his schizophrenia. People that don’t him would judge him as the weird guy down the road, the crazy man. Yet he is one of those quiet, gentle giants with an eye to paint and draw that is extraordinary. His oils and charcoals grace the walls of so many and his patience to capture that tender essence of people in his paintings is little understood. Where’s his accolade for his accomplishments, his superb achievements relative to his measure of who he is?

No, the word hero isn’t right. People accomplish everywhere. For Schnooze to endure the surgery and now recovery, however cute she is when she crashes her Elizabethan collar into walls and is unable to reach that urging scratch behind her ear, and the gratitude when you can reach that scratch for her, she’s my little superwoman. And Ms R that I lunched with recently, her patience and determination in sourcing funds for scholarships for young people in disadvantaged areas so they can have a chance to an education and to pursue their dreams, is admirable. Without her and the organisation she works for, these young people would miss their opportunity to contribute to the world in the way they aspire to. Another superwoman, quiet and unassuming, yet so full of the will to give.

It’s times like this past week that I get to sit on the summit after the gruelling climb of the past seven days, to observe and reflect ... on the 70-year-old woman who confessed to being molested by a boy when she was young, in the pool she adored swimming in, which she never returned to again. The remorse in the eyes of her sister at hearing that confession as she never knew of her torment. She's the one to be revered for her exceptional strength for what she's endured for so long. One could say, she should have spoken up. But we all have our limitations and they all differ. No judgement is required on that, or on the woman who barraged abuse at my son, H, simply for being a by-stander in an act of rage on the road. I’m sure she accomplishes in her own world. And one day, ‘bogan’ H, in long hair pulled back to conduct chemistry experiments, will have developed the next drug to cure her ailment in old age. A superman, even with only the aspiration to find the next drug.

We all succeed and triumph relative to our own lives. Take the depth of love that’s hidden from the world because of society’s taboo in loving two people, and the strength of those people to carry that love into their eighties. The giving spirit of the mentor to constantly push the student, to question and dig for answers, even when the question has never been asked before and is so abstract that understanding it seems impossible, let alone answering it.

Look into the eyes of one so young when tragedy strikes and the empathy that bleeds in all shades of the rainbow, or of people young and old who risk their lives to rescue others … they’re everywhere.

Try to understand the strength of the paramedic who becomes de-sensitised to so much yet can still flash a smile of warmth and share a few words of care that can soothe any ache of heart, or the tears that build in the young man with responsibility to collect his very frail dog from the vet … they’ve all accomplished, all have pushed themselves or been pushed to limits that have often been untested.

To be surrounded by people who accomplish so much, without the public and materialistic adoration that goes with the heroism of today’s material world, is a true privilege. The quiet heroes of this world are everywhere. They’re the true superheroes.

***

An unexpected call from the vet last night has revealed that they managed to capture all of Schnooze's cancer, and just in time. Now that's a trio of superwomen I wouldn't want to mess with!

Recent Comments
Anonymous
Yes, there are many ordinary struggling humans all around us doing extraordinary kind and helpful things Thank you for recognizin... Read More
Saturday, 13 May 2017 15:33
Monika Schott PhD
Thanks, Sue. I think you're one of those extraordinary humans too. ... Read More
Sunday, 14 May 2017 01:49
Rosy Cole
Moni, this is a wonderful, heartfelt, life-affirming post and what the world needs to know right now. Losing the life God has give... Read More
Tuesday, 16 May 2017 16:11
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You're here

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I know you’re here tonight. Your embrace tells me so. It’s that swathe of warmth that wraps around me and steadies me to my core, of your want to be here intertwined with my want for you.

Sometimes there’s a presence on the breath of cigarettes or on the whiff of perfume, Cacharel Anais Anais if I remember. Other times it's in the scratching of shopping bags chock full of skirts and blouses, socks for her, ties for him and a vase for me, red at its best.

But tonight, that presence is you. It’s in your hold, so caring and kind, a solid trusting that stabilises and stops the freefall, for me and for you. Life can get like that where everything comes and goes, rushing to be somewhere and do something that makes so little difference compared to the touch of kindness, of stings of hurt from the selfish and the self-interest in that, the taking and prodding for one’s own means … yes and no, maybe, all for me, please be me. Me, me, me! Let it be you, you, you ...

Even in a life of loves and haves, of kindness and care, there’s still a freefall. In a life of everything there can still be a slice of nothing wedged in a force of gravity, expedient and crass. Maybe that’s selfishness too and the feeling of nothing is the greatest self-interest and ego-centricity of all. Maybe that’s who we humans are and why it’s in that nothing that the freefall is at its greatest.

Such quandary in everything, in nothing.

Until you come along in unexpected visit and hold me until I let go and fall into you and you into me, feeling safe in that even when it’s frightening too … for what if we can’t brace the falling and I tumble further from you, for what if you’re not real.

Yet trusting you is all I can do for there’s this knowing that sight cannot reveal, a knowing of you wanting to do the best for me in all your sweetness of heart and me wanting the same for you. How that happens or how that is, I don’t know. My only knowing is in the feeling of you and of waking after falling into you and you into me, in a boundless energy and clarity, ready to give again.

The ducks are coming, as a cacophony of hundreds of chirrups and flapping wings reaching for height and searching for a place to roost. In pink ears and freckles, in wood and shell, come roost with me.

Recent Comments
Rosy Cole
Exquisite, Moni. The preciousness of having and trusting.
Tuesday, 04 April 2017 16:25
Monika Schott PhD
It certainly is a gift to have that trust in your life, Rosy. Very precious. ... Read More
Thursday, 06 April 2017 11:55
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‘… and never regret anything that makes you smile.’

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'The Kiss' (full size) by Burke Heffner

 

‘… and never regret anything that makes you smile.’ I emailed that to a lovely man who spoke of the back pain he experiences from degenerative discs and the time he’s had away from work to manage that pain. DB’s cute description of ‘anything from picking up a pair of socks to coughing will see it chuck a wobbly’ made me smile and I hoped he’d had an opportunity to smile that day given his suffering.

That was in the morning.

In the evening, I discovered an old friend’s sister who I’d grown up with, had made another attempt at taking her life. This time she’d succeeded, whether she meant to or not, and her children had to make the decision to turn off their mother’s life support. Gut wrenching. It made me think of the rest of Mark Twain’s quote –

‘Life is short. Break the rules. Forgive quickly. Kiss slowly. Laugh truly. Laugh uncontrollably and never regret anything that makes you smile.’

I wondered about my old friend's sister and whether she had a life that was full and meaningful to her. I believed she did. While I was sad that she was gone and for the family and their loss, my sadness was for the anguish my old friend's sister must have endured through her life. Or had she? Her life was what she knew and who was I to judge it as one of enduring.

Mental ill health is growing by the minute. I see it in people around me and what I consider ‘extreme’ actions they can take. But to them, those actions aren’t extreme. It’s a way of coping with the daily torment they live with. It’s their reality. Their life. It may not be one of torment that I understand torment to be.

Some take ‘extreme’ actions that make perfect sense to them. I’ve seen what I consider most irrational actions being taken where the person taking the action believes it to be perfectly rational – the shaving of eyebrows because it looks good, talking to Lucifer and the dodging of cameras in every corner of their own home and in the streets, following their every move. The spying that occurs from being followed, to the point where holding up a 711 store at knife-point to distract those spies from following the family, to protect them, is the only answer, and the swallowing of pills, because that’s the only way.

Years have taught me to not inflict my biases onto those actions and the reasons behind them, to accept them as actions relevant to the person. I don’t have their experiences so how can I know. Truly know. It’s not easy or straight forward for anyone experiencing mental ill health to understand the effects of their thoughts and actions on others. The illness is all consuming, and a reality onto its own.

Someone said to me yesterday that if the friend's sister could see the hurt she’s caused, she wouldn’t have taken her life. While that may be a ‘Christian’ view, it’s not one I hold.

There is almost always commentary about the selfish act that suicide is. But what of the person experiencing the pain to the point of having no alternative but to take that action? I’m not sure they could see past their torment to understand the impact of their action. To me, there’s a selfishness in those that hold such beliefs that those experiencing such torment should act in ways that are appropriate, as appropriate in their eyes. I’m trying to be kind here!

Every day is a reminder to live life in a way that matters to me - Mark Twain ensures that, with his quote sitting on my desk for me to read each morning. He’s done that all year.

‘Life is short. Break the rules. Forgive quickly. Kiss slowly. Laugh truly. Laugh uncontrollably and never regret anything that makes you smile.’

While I work hard and may not take on each of those elements every second of every day of my life, I do aspire to them and make a solid attempt at achieving them. I can’t have everything all of the time and can’t always fit everything into a day that I might want. Life’s too short too for regrets and each mistake is a learning from a new fork taken in my road.

I found myself commenting to one of my boys last night on something similar: don’t do things because you feel you should. Do them because you want to. Go out with that friend because you will enjoy it and not because you feel it would make them happy. There’s a level of deceit in that to them and you. It’s a balance of self-respect versus being selfless. Be happy to do that something for someone else.

Standing beside DB the day after we emailed, wearing what my mother calls my grandmother’s bright pink floral, flowing dress, his grimace was all pain. He commented that his back probably threw its current wobbly because he’d been busy balancing work and finishing off his study for the year. I replied to his asking of how I was with being good and sometimes not knowing what day it was. What I wanted to say was sometimes I leave the house and am driving to work or University and I look down at my legs to make sure I’m not still wearing my pyjamas as I rush around trying to do so much in the morning that I don’t remember changing! (But I didn’t want to embarrass myself saying that in public so I’ll say it here instead.) He acknowledged the need for slowing down and taking it easy. Perhaps I should have sent him the whole quote.

I’ve been called many things over the years – queen of clash, being too gung-ho or aloof, asking too many questions or never doing anything ‘normal’. It's probably all true but I'm pleased I have a true appreciation and understanding that life is short.

 

Time is lost in all ideals of time, where the cocoon has toughened as tungsten steel.

Diamond tips tap to tunes of break free, seeking to escape to a place of new. They sometimes grow as clashing bangs that smash through a weakened fissure into sun shining onto fields of sunflowers waking in the heat of summer. The scent of new life intoxicates to an exhilarating trepidation.

Sometimes those taps are barely auditable whispering feathers and no amount of push can break free. Eventually, the trap secures. The trap becomes all that's known: the norm.

 

 

 

Recent Comments
Jitu C Rajgor
Forgive quickly. Kiss slowly. Laugh truly. Laugh uncontrollably and never regret anything that makes you smile.’ Liked it.... Read More
Saturday, 05 November 2016 20:20
Monika Schott PhD
Thanks, Jitu. ... Read More
Sunday, 06 November 2016 03:17
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2 Comments

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