One year ago today my life changed for the better and God revealed His love, faithfulness, power and grace in abundance. Today marks 12 months since I moved to Brisbane and re-commenced part-time work, this time as a youth minister.
Category: Life
Grease: Highschool-Style
Musical number 11 was watching some of my VERY talented teens in Grease. My word, those kids can sing!
I applaud the efforts of Mansfield High to try and make Grease ‘appropriate’ for high schoolers. I was very proud and reminded why I love working with youth 🙂
#ayearofmusicals #grease #totesinappropes #youthwork #highschoolproduction #mansfieldmusical
We Will Rock You $10
Musical #10 #WeWillRockYou. I had a blast rocking along to #queenclassics, laughing at cleverly crafted pop-culture satire while admiring the stand-out, committed, versatile and talented ensemble 💫.
What it lacked visually in regards to levels and staging dynamics was made up with energy, killer voices and strong, eccentric characters. @jazflowers had me covered in goosebumps and smiles (ahhhhh, she makes me so happy!) – blowing me away alongside @theerinclare22 (yet again – thank you #heathersoz), @simonmrussell & @thernreynolds. Thank you to the cast and crew of @rockyouau for a fun, hilarious and entertaining show!
#ayearofmusicals #wwryau #wewillrockyoumusical #aussietheatre #theatregeek #theatre #easilypleased #therapy #theatereview #citylife #brisbane #galileofigaro #scaramouche #bohemianrapsody #dreamer #iplanet #gaga (at Lyric Theatre – QPAC)
Six Reasons Why I May Be Happiest Depressed Person You’ve Ever Met
When I start getting to know new people, and we move from acquaintance to friend, I’m pretty open about my life. The chronic pain is hard to hide as it is, but I also mention that I have depression, and if they ask, I don’t hesitate to say it’s been around for a loooooooooong time.
As I’ve settled in a new city, with a new job and meeting new people, I’ve been told multiple times that I’m the ‘happiest depressed person’ they’ve ever met, which amuses me, greatly. I don’t really understand what ‘happiness’ feels like, yet I seem to project it. After some reflection, I think I’ve worked out why.
- When you’ve had an illness for 16 years and have received consistent treated for most of that time, you learn how to manage it. I can CBT myself like no one’s business. I never miss a dose of medication and every couple of years get reviewed by a psychiatrist. I regularly see my psychologist and check in with my GP monthly. I’ve taught myself how to get out of bed, even when I don’t have the energy. I’ve learnt how to smile when joy has faded. Listening to other people is a welcomed distraction, and I can listen to my body by making healthy choices, even when I don’t feel like it.
- Some days are better than others, but the practice of gratitude and acceptance helps me make the most of the good days which makes the bad days a little bit easier.
- I have built an incredible support network – a team made up of family, friends, work colleagues and professionals. When the depression overwhelms me with loneliness, I’m rarely actually isolated. When the depression has me hating on myself, people are quick to show me their love.
- I’ve found healing and acceptance in sharing my story, bringing awareness and supporting others in their mental illness. It gives a sense of purpose, a weapon to fight against overwhelming hopelessness and helplessness. Being open and honest also demonstrates that there is no shame in having a Mental Illness.
- I grew up in a family where depression was understood. I have never felt the stigma society holds around mental illness which makes acceptance and openness easier.
- I trust in a faithful Creator and have the perfect Counsellor living inside of me. I have hope in a new, perfect creation and faith in a God who is loving, holy and just. These truths bring me joy that stops an often futile ‘pursuit of happiness’ and enables me to rest in spiritual peace (sometimes my emotions are just a little slow to catch up with spiritual truths).
But please don’t be mistaken…
I still battle with depression. I still have days where I cry all morning. I still have mornings where it takes all my energy reserves just to get out of bed. I still experience overwhelming with sadness. I still need patience, empathy, love, support, to take medication and participate in psychotherapy.
Accepting that I have a chronic mental illness doesn’t mean I have a defeatest attitude. I eagerly await the day I no longer have to deal with depression, acknowledging it may not happen in this lifetime.
You can’t compare me to other people you know with depression as everyone is on their own journey. Let’s be real, most people haven’t spent (approximately) 64% of their life learning the skills needed to be a high functioning. Instead, encourage them to seek appropriate, professional treatment; help them find mutual support; show them love through compassionate empathy and remind them that hope and healing from depression is possible.
30 Ways to Creatively Engage with your Illness
It’s easy to lose interest in life when you’re consumed with pain, depression and other awful symptoms. I’ve found engaging with my illnesses and experience creatively very empowering.
You don’t have to be the next Van Gough, Ansel Adams, Sylvia Plath, PewDiePie or Alicia Keys to be creative. I have compiled a list if ‘creative’ things you can have a go at, even if you think you suck.
By creative, I mean expressing yourself in an imaginative, artistic, innovative, inspirational, personal or unique way. You can ‘creatively engage’ with your illness by using any creative medium to:
- process the pain and grief your illness has caused;
- externalise overwhelming feelings;
- articulate acceptance;
- rest and relax;
- create awareness about your illness;
- reach out for support;
- distract yourself for a while;
- innovate a way to re-engage with an activity your illness has prevented you from doing;
- encourage others to persevere;
- show others they’re not alone in their illness;
- remind yourself that you have hope;
- share your story and experience;
- reveal your resilience and strength;
- ask for support;
- project positivity;
- express gratitude, and
- break stigma.
Here is a list of 30 ways you can engage creatively as another tool to help you manage your journey with chronic illness.
1. Go for a stroll in the park, a walk on the beach or simply sit in your sunny backyard and take a few pictures. Anyone can take a photo of the grass, a tree, a bird, the clouds and the sun on their phone. If you’re feeling a bit crazy, add your favourite filter.
2. Pick a photo you have taken, or download a free stock image and add the cheesiest quote you can find (or your favourite quote or verse from scripture.) You can use a photo editing program (like Photoshop or GIMP), a website (like Canva), or even Microsoft Word.
3. Type and print encouraging statements with fun fonts to put on your wall.
4. Print your favourite family or holiday photos and make a collage. If you’re renting and don’t want to risk ruining the walls with blue tac, you can get a whiteboard or cork-board. I spray painted an ugly room divider to use as a giant pin board. …or you could finally scrapbook those holiday and baby photos.
5. Give colouring-in a try. The adult colouring in fad has taken the world by storm, have you tried it yet? Buy one from Kmart or your local bookstore, borrow your child’s activity book or find a picture to print through a ‘Google Images‘ search.
6.Communicate with pictures. Visualise your how you feel and what it’s like to live with your illness and paint or draw it.
7. Experiment! Go crazy, painting, sketching and blending with different mediums. Most variety shops sell (oil, soft and hard) pastels, charcoal, (acrylic, watercolour and oil) paint and canvas pads. Experimenting is fun and can be a great distraction. On bad days I’ve been known to see how many shades of black, white and grey I can mix into one picture. When I’m feeling a bit more optimistic, I’ll play with colour.
8. I’m an awful drawer, but sometimes it’s fun to sketch. My favourite is creating stick-figure comics.
Learning to appreciate myself.
The isolation you feel when you have depression.
9. Too scared to try karaoke? You can now download karaoke apps onto your phone or tablet to take ‘singing in the shower’ to the next level.
10. Pick up the musical instrument you haven’t played in years. We all have a recorder hidden at the back of our wardrobe. My preference is the guitar – after 10 years I still can’t read music.
11. Write a song to share what it’s like having your illness and encourage others.
12. Don’t have a musical bone in your body? Try changing the lyrics to a song or nursery rhyme.
13. Create playlists for every occasion: to relax, feel like singing, angst, fight songs, etc.
14. Make up an interpretive dance – I can never go past Vanessa Carlton’s 1000 Miles.
15. Write a short story.
16. Create a character you can relate to and write a monologue, one-act play, radio script or a short film to explore and communicate the characters journey.
17. Start a journal/diary, blogging or (and you don’t have to edit and publish it for the world to see, but if you have a laptop with a webcam) a video journal. 
18. Write a poem – if you don’t ‘do poetry’ you could always start with a simple Haiku
or Limerick.
19.Write a letter to yourself.
20. Turn statistics, research and (accurate) medical information into an infographic.
21. Put on an apron and be a MasterChef by cooking your favourite cuisine or experimenting with a classic dish.
22. Create the next ‘Paralympic Sport’ – if there is a physical activity/sport you love, but can no longer play it due to your illness, come up with an adaptation that fits your physical
limitations.
23. Knit! You can never have too many scarves, beanies or comfort blankets. This beautifully adorable yellow teddy was made by Lee Miller.
24. Give your alter ego life and make a (sock) puppet.
25. If you’re a gamer and can code, create a game related to your illness – I dream of playing an arcade game called “The Angry Uterus.”
26. Design a personal tattoo (which is in no way a commitment to get a tattoo).
27. Make some (awareness) jewellery.
Some Jewellery Making Supplies
Hand-made by Jenny Higgins Bradanini
28. Design a t-shirt and wear your message. You can never have
too many awareness t-shirts! (Although my mother would disagree.)
29. Get pretty and expressive, experimenting with makeup and nail art. This fantastic body art is by Kiley Inman.
30. Download a meme generator and amuse yourself.
If you can afford it, pick a hobby/skill and invest in some lessons. I’ve chosen to prioritise a half an hour singing lesson every two weeks into my budget. I then record the lesson so I can continue to practice between classes. It is both empowering and encouraging to see the progress/development of that still over time.
Ask others to get involved; sometimes it’s nice just to relax with a friend and have fun together. Sometimes laughter is the best medicine. I’ve also had friends with artistic talent sit down and teach me for no cost.
The most important thing to remember is not to be a perfectionist. It’s not about the finished product; it’s about engaging with your illness, disease or disability in a creative way. Short-term, being creative will help you relax, decrease tension and give you another way to communicate. The long-term benefits of developing this habit is often insight, acceptance and healing.
I’d love to hear from you!
Do you have anything to share?
Do you have anything to add the list?
Have you noticed the benefits of engaging creatively with your illness?
Reunion
Spent today celebrating 12 months since pain clinic with this beautiful boy! His little smile and big character stole my heart #clucky
A Letter To The GP’s Who Never Let Me Give Up
Yesterday during my GP appointment, my (female) doctor said, “Alex! I saw you in the coffee shop earlier, and I noticed you’re looking very pretty today. Have you done something with your hair?” It’s safe to say she made my day!
I have many people who have supported me as I’ve learnt to adjust to life with chronic illness – family, friends and health professionals. I’ve seen multiple GP’s in my life and three have stood out for me, one from each of the cities I’ve lived in since I left high school. Their non-stop encouragement, compassion, and validation have helped me survive a series of unfortunate events.
Dear Dr. Sydney, Dr. Lismore and Dr. Brisbane,
Thank you for validating me when I felt stuck in your revolving office door. There have been periods where I’ve seen you monthly, fortnightly and weekly and you never made me felt guilty for taking your time or like a burden. You probably have no idea the impact you’ve had on my journey through chronic illness, but these are a few of the things I thank you for as you validated me as a person and my experience as your patient.
Thank you for acknowledging your limits as a General Practitioner and referring me to health professionals who have more training and expertise. You were never offended when I sought other opinions, and your humility meant I was able to get accurate diagnoses and try new treatments. You showed me that an effective support network had many people and was multi-disciplinary. [Dr. Sydney,] I was stunned when you wrote a thank you letter to my naturopath for her insight and test requests that led to my PCOS diagnosis.
Thank you for listening to me. I may have left your office feeling hopeless (due to the nature of the chronic illness) and in tears many times, but I never left feeling unheard, ignored, uncared for or let down.
Thank you for respecting my dignity as an adult who can make her own decisions. Thank you for not pushing me to attempt risky treatments I was not prepared to try and acknowledging the research I had done on my own. Many times I came into your office, not as Ailment Alex, but as Advocate Alex, requesting a specific referral, treatment or test. Sometimes I was way off, but your encouragement empowered me to continue as an advocate and to keep opening new doors.
Thank you for not treating me like a drug addict or another ‘fat person.’ You never hid your shock when I shared horror stories with other health professionals. You also exercised great wisdom and respect as we managed my medication increases and decreases.
Thank you for being my friend. I don’t mean this in the creepy, dependent, unhealthy, unprofessional kind of way. You shared my disappointment when treatments didn’t work and celebrated the small victories, usually with more enthusiasm than I. You were often the person I spent the most time with (other than my family), and because you were holistic in your approach, you treated me like a person, not a patient.
Thank you for being practical. You understood my personal restraints, particularly transport restrictions and financial hardship. When possible, you gave me samples, helped me access the cheapest and most convenient options and always bulk-billed. Your efforts meant I could afford my healthcare, try different treatments and see new specialists that were often helpful.
Thank you for letting me cry and empathising with my pain, sorrow, grief, despair and the unfairness of my situation. I appreciate every time you agreed that my situation was unfair, saw me as a whole person, told me I didn’t deserve this and apologised when you had run out of tissues.
Finally, each of you said something to me that has stuck with me.
Dr. Sydney, when you, acknowledging we shared the same faith, asked to pray for me, then and there, you reminded me that although I felt isolated and hopeless, I wasn’t alone, and there was hope.
Dr. Lismore, when I came to you because my suicidal ideations had returned, you said, “I won’t give up until we get you better” (and you didn’t), you showed me I wasn’t alone, and there was hope.
Dr. Brisbane, when shared my insecurities that I felt like a hypochondriac because of a string of infections, you told me to “never apologise for looking after yourself. You know your body. If something feels off, never hesitate to see me.” You, again, reminded me that I wasn’t alone, and there was hope.
So, to these wonderful GP’s, thank you for acknowledging your limitations as a human, while giving me the dignity and respect I deserve as one. Thank you for using your role to bring hope and healing to a patient who needed it as they learnt to understand and manage their chronic illnesses.
Many Thanks,
Your Grateful Patient.
If you live in Sydney, Brisbane or the Northern Rivers (NSW) and looking for a good GP, feel free to message me and I’ll pass on the names.
Five Years Ago, Today…
Five years ago today I woke up bright and early, headed to Bankstown Hospital. I waited in a small room with an elderly couple until the nurse called my name. I am tagged, weighed and dressed in a beautiful white gown, socks that didn’t cover my toes and what I can only describe as a cotton, blue shower cap. I confirmed by details and hopped into bed. I had been told not to take any painkillers when I woke up, so they checked my details a second time and gave me some IV-Panadol. Not long after they wanted to be really sure they had the right person and checked my details yet again before rolling me into the pre-op room.
Enter Gyno, “so, Alexandra, I see we are doing a cystectomy today.”
“Uh, no. The cyst resolved itself; you said you were doing an exploratory laparoscopy.”
He giggles “Oh, okay then,” as he looks up from his notes.
They confirm my identity one more time before the anaesthetist gently squeezes my hand, gives me the mask and asks me to count slowly down from ten.
10… 9… 8…
I woke myself up with my own screaming a few hours later. “Did they find anything?”
It turns out, they did. Here Annie will show you what the inside of my pelvis looked like before the Gyno removed the Endometriosis (versus a healthy one).
As I left the hospital a few hours later, walking in the hunched posture my body had become accustomed, a nurse said, “walk straight, you’re all fixed now.” I believed her.
Even though the surgery wasn’t a cure and it didn’t take away the pain, I was finally validated. I was no longer mystically causing myself physical pain with my mind. There was a reason. There was a disease. It was my diagnosis day.
Today marks my 5 year anniversary since I was diagnosed and look how far I have come since! Praise God!
So it with a healthy mix of sarcasm, cynicism, gratitude and hope that I say…
Happy Endoversary, Alex!
14 Questions to Ask Yourself Before Promising to Love ‘in Sickness and in Health’
Jesus Christ Superstar
Number 8 & first amateur musical of the year was #JesusChristSuperstar by @queenslandmusicaltheatre !! I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the principle cast and orchestra! It was certainly 100x more enjoyable than the Lismore Workers Club production I endured as a kid. The talent of #MaryMagdeline was fantastic and she was absolutely stunning!… and who would have thought #KingHerod would steal the show with one number. My love for the music was reignited – I think I have a new album to keep on repeat for a while! #ayearofmusicals #musicals #communitytheatre #queenslandmusicaltheater #spoileralert (at UQ Schonell Theatre)
Breaking Stigma 