Wicked #12

Musical #12 is Wicked and boy was I impressed!! The quality felt so close to the touring production 2 years ago. The leads were exceptional (AH! THOSE VOICES!!), the orchestra was on point & the set and costumes were amazing! There was no disappointed, only superseded expectations. A shout out to the dude in front of me who was also mouthing every single word with passion, sparking applause, in awe, before the songs even ended.

#ayearofmusicals #wicked #wickedimtc #musicaltheatre #amateurtheatreforthewin (at Ipswich Civic Centre)

‘Am I OK?’ today? Well, Life’s Slowed Down.

It is “R U OK? Day” today.

Am I okay? Yes. I think so. I will be.

Am I sad, overwhelmed, exhausted and ‘bleh’ with blood-shot eyes? Yes.

My Opa passed away today. It’s sad and I’m grieving. But I’m okay. The doctor assured us that his death was painless and peaceful.

He had a heart attack on Sunday (ironically, Fathers Day), which revealed he also had pneumonia and kidney failure. Opa could have had a few long, drawn out weeks where his body slowly shut down – but God was merciful. All his grandkids and children were able to see him the day before he passed. Then after only a couple of days in hospital, he fell asleep early this morning and never woke up. It wasn’t a sudden-shock, but was quick. In his words, yes, ‘he kicked the bucket’ (and one day we all will), but it was painless, peaceful, he knew he was loved and even got to have a beer on his last night. This is just the surface of how things seemed to ‘worked out for the best’ and I have witnessed and experienced God’s goodness, mercy and grace in a whole new way.

As a teenager, I watched a close family friend pass away and had a church brother pass away after a motorbike accident – but this is the first time I’ve experienced the death of a family member and it’s surreal. It has shocked me that as his world stopped, mine (and my family’s) slowed down while the world continues on, as it was yesterday and as it will tomorrow.

As my family I sat down with a cuppa (just after we said our final good-bye) and we were mincing our words – a fly on the wall would think we were talking jibberish. We kept dropping things and walking down the hallway, forgetting that we just needed to use the bathroom. Then mum and I finished our evening with a quick trip to coles to pick up some (much needed) cheese and milk. We came home with $30 worth of groceries, some cider, 2 parcels from the pharmacy, no cheese and the wrong kind of milk. Grief distracts you, tires you and takes up so much of your brain. Time feels like it’s gone so quickly and dragged on at the same time.

Mr Google told me that approximately 151,600 people have their world just ‘stop’ every day. If you estimate each individual has 4 people who love them, 606, 400 people have their lives slow down every single day – and grief can be overwhelming for days, weeks and months. At least 4.24 million people a week have their lives slow down because (approx.) 1 million lives stop. That’s a lot of grieving people, walking through the day, a little bit slower than the rest of the world, very distracted with a blend of apathy and sorrow.

And death isn’t the only cause of grief – people lose jobs, pets, marriages, their health and loved ones in other ways, every day. People can have their lives turn over and slowed down due to ill health, mental illness, medications, infertility, waiting for test results or simply receiving some bad, life changing news.

You never know what someone is feeling, experiencing, processing and suffering with as you encounter them. You don’t know what is going on for the ‘rude person’ who hardly notices knocking you off your feet in the street, for the friend who didn’t reply to your text, for the shop attendant who gives you the wrong change, or the driver who cuts you off on the highway.

Can I encourage you to show compassion, empathy and understanding to those you encounter? Give them the benefit of the doubt that maybe, their world has just slowed down. You just don’t know and the only way you will is if you ask.

So, you know how I am going today. What about you? R U OK?

Grease: Highschool-Style

tumblr_obugzb6dmf1r1zpgho1_1280Musical 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 β€˜appropriate’ for high schoolers. I was very proud and reminded why I love working with youth πŸ™‚

#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 πŸ’«.

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)

Speak Up

As long as we remain silent, society remains ignorant. We can empower others and ourselves by sharing truth in love! #speakup #behonest #endsilence #breakingstigma

β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”-

#speaktruth #love #mentalhealth #depression #chronicpain #endometriosis #endthesilence #chronicillness #awareness #jesus #truth #endthesilence

8 Strategies To Get You Out Of The House When You’re Depressed

One of my strategies for managing chronic depression is getting out of the house every day. When I’m having an episode, most days I open my eyes, sigh with frustration and then begin the battle of my inner dialogue…

“Oh, another day. Time to get out o…”

β€œβ€¦ close your eyes and stay in bed – just ten more minutes. FeelΒ how tired you are!”

10 minutes later

β€œOkay, now I really have to get out of be…”

β€œβ€¦staying in bed won’t hurt anyone. You’ve hadΒ a busy few days. Besides, nothing bad can happen if you stay here in your comfortable, warm bed.”

β€œBut, but I don’t want to waste the day…”

… and it continues. I am so glad that after years of unhealthily lateΒ sleep-in’s and ridiculouslyΒ late nights, I’ve learnt;

a) that getting out of bed, despite my feelings is beneficial to my mental health, and

b) I can put strategies in place to make getting out of bed and out of the house every day possible.

So, here are a few strategies:

1. I acknowledge I am blessed to have a part-time job that I love, so three days a week I am obliged to get out of the house, and it has made a massive difference to my mental health. Don’t have a job or can’t be employed? Try volunteering; it’s commitment without the pressure. Before I was well enough to have paid employment, I volunteered at a local kids club, at church and for a mutual-help support group.

2. Organise to have a tea/coffee at a cute cafe least once a week with a β€˜no pressure’ friend.

3. Spread out doctors, specialist and support appointments so they are on different days.

4. Access your local community centre or mental health support service. There are plenty of organisations funded by the government who organise activities (e.g. choirs, art lessons, computer tutorials, community gardens and tours) and mutual support groups for people with mental or physical illnesses.

5. Don’t do a massive grocery shop, rather, get what I need for a day or two. This forces you to go out and get a few groceries 3-4 days a week. This has the added benefit of cooking with/eating fresh fruit, veggies and meat.

6. Make bookings! I love going to the theatre and the cinema. Booking tickets in advance can force you out of the house, lest you waste good money on something fun.13987851_1063897257012450_1674396231_o

7. Make a list of all the things you enjoy doing when my mental health is good and giveΒ a copy to those in your support network. It can often be obsolete to say, β€˜do something you enjoy’ to a depressed person as a symptom of depression is that you can’t think of something you could enjoy. This is where my list comes in handy, it reminds me (and others) of the activities that can get me out of the house/bed and will improve my mood – even if it’s a smidgen, it’s worth it.

8. Give yourself credit where credit is due and don’t be hard on yourself when you do stay in bed or the house all day. Learning to manage mental illness is a long learning process. Write-off a bad day and have an early night because tomorrow is a new day.

I’ll be the first to admit that balancing mental health strategies with physical illnesses can make this harder; for example, I’ve had non-stop dizziness for five days and can’t drive, leave the house or operate machinery (in this case some appliances/hot stovetop).

For these sick or flare-up days, my goal is to get out of bed, brush my teeth and eat my meals or watch Netflix while sitting in the sun. If I can add a shower, play with some pastels, paint, read, welcome a visitor, or walk to the mailbox, it’s a productive day.

Then when I get better, or my flare up ends, I’ll start leaving the house again.

What helps you get out of theΒ house when you body is telling you otherwise?

Musical #9: You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown

Musical #9: You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown with aΒ dear friend! All I can say is, Hayes Theatre Company, you’ve done it again! An intimate and simple production that showcases the brilliance and talent that is Aussie Theatre. This show, traditionally for children, is still ridiculously entertaining for adults. Each character was embodied impeccably, taking me back to my childhood, amused at how Peanuts is still relevant as a social commentary. Cue the song and dance, cue the non-stop laughter, cue the applause and cue the intermission entertainment where a guy in the front row threw Nobby’s Peanuts onto the stage and stormed out of the theatre. If you love Australian, independent musical theatre; this isn’t one to miss!

Check outΒ Laura Murphy and Nat Job perform ‘My New Philosophy’ on YouTube.

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’Β they’ve ever met, which amuses me, greatly. I don’t really understand what ‘happiness’ feels like, yet I seem to project it. After someΒ reflection, I think I’ve worked out why.

  1. 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. Β 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. 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 aΒ Mental Illness.
  5. I grew up in a family where depression was understood. I have never felt theΒ stigma society holds around mental illnessΒ which makes acceptance and opennessΒ easier.
  6. 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’tΒ 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 ifΒ β€˜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 theΒ pain and grief your illness has caused;
  • externalise overwhelmingΒ 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;
  • showΒ othersΒ 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.

morethanmanysparrows1. 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 aΒ 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.

10383479_660858887316291_6416940749823705263_n3. 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 uglyΒ roomΒ divider toΒ use as a giant pin board. …or you could finally scrapbook those holiday and babyΒ photos.

5.Β Give colouring-in a try. The adult colouring in fad hasΒ taken the world by storm, have you tried it yet? Buy one from Kmart or your local bookstore, borrow your child’sΒ activity book or find a picture to print through aΒ ‘Google Images‘ search.

6.Communicate with pictures. Visualise your how you feel andΒ what it’s like to live with your illness and paint or drawΒ it.

244319_151690988233086_385182_o7. Experiment! Go crazy, painting, sketching and blendingΒ with differentΒ mediums.Β MostΒ varietyΒ shops sell (oil, soft and hard)Β pastels, charcoal, (acrylic, watercolour and oil)Β paint and canvas pads. Experimenting is fun and can beΒ a great distraction. On bad days I’ve been known to see how many shadesΒ of black, white and grey I can mix into one picture. WhenΒ I’m feeling a bit more optimistic, I’ll play withΒ colour.

8. I’m an awful drawer, but sometimes it’s fun to sketch. My favourite isΒ creating stick-figure comics.

9. Too scared to try karaoke? You can now download karaoke apps onto your phone or tablet to take β€˜singing in the shower’ to the next level.

10. Pick up the musical instrument you haven’t played in years. We all have aΒ 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 andΒ 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,Β angst, fight songs, etc.mr-g-gif (1)

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,Β 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.Β tumblr_n6eu9xazEC1s79tl2o1_500.gif

18. Write a poem – if you don’t β€˜do poetry’ you could always start with a simple HaikuUntitled design orΒ Limerick.

19.Write a letter to yourself.

20.Β Turn statistics, research and (accurate) medical information into an infographic.

21. Put on an apron and be aΒ MasterChef by cooking your favourite cuisine or experimenting with a classic dish.

22. Create the next β€˜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.535131_752938168174916_8494518392625972808_n

23. Knit! You can never have too many scarves, beanies or comfort blankets.Β This beautifully adorable yellow teddy wasΒ 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 β€œThe Angry Uterus.”

26. Design a personal tattoo (which is in no way a commitment to get aΒ tattoo).

27. Make some (awareness) jewellery.

28. Design a t-shirt and wear your message. You can never have13064520_10153945092096329_3814720925769389373_o too many awarenessΒ t-shirts!Β (Although my mother would disagree.)

29. Get pretty and expressive, experimenting with makeup and nail art. This fantastic body art isΒ by Kiley Inman.

30. Download a meme generator and amuse yourself.

If you can afford it, pick a hobby/skill and invest inΒ some lessons. I’ve chosen toΒ 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 niceΒ 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. Β Short-term, being creative will help you relax, decrease tension and give you another way to communicate. TheΒ 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 toΒ add theΒ list?
Have you noticed the benefits of engaging creatively with your illness?

A Letter To The GP’s Who Never Let Me Give Up

Yesterday during my GP appointment, my (female) doctor said, β€œAlex! 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 PractitionerΒ 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 β€˜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, β€œI 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 β€œnever 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.