Dear dear friend, I have just read yours and Elfie’s blog. Poring over each entry, lingering over the words, and soaking up the imagery, emotion and inspiration within. You guys are truly amazing. I am in awe of your raw authenticity, the poetic lilt of your language and the simple joy of your lives together (yes, even the tragic, dark bits have joy and hope).

I am also envious. Yes, you read that right. I have wanted to do what you are doing for so long. Tracking my life, thoughts, random experiences; expressing myself in words and photos/drawings to whoever might want to listen… I fantasise about doing it. I talk to Gina about what stops me. I draft countless entries, that never get as far as being posted. Most of my life I have thought of myself as a writer, creator. Talented, driven. And yet, I don’t actually do it. I don’t ‘find time’. I don’t ‘have a space’. I ‘forget’. I have ‘other more important/urgent/significant/pressing things to do’.

Now, more than ever, I want to make this happen. But I don’t know how. If ‘even cancer’ and the very real threat of not growing old is not enough of a rocket up my proverbial, what on earth will motivate me to make it happen…?

I know, I know! I hear you tut tutting me and saying ‘don’t be so hard on yourself, you and Rich have so much to get finished to be in a place where you can just be yourselves and live a life in synch with this part of you’. I know there are very real reasons, right now, why I don’t just walk over to my easel and get chalk on my fingers, or sit down at my computer for a few hours and bash out a few ideas/thoughts/hopes (like this morning, when all I do is feel guilty about not getting the washing on!), but how/when is the desire to do this going to be enough to bunt me into gear… (I actually typed ‘but time is running out’, and then veered away from leaving it there – and this is my way of letting you know it was in my head but I wasn’t ready to own it).

I love you and am so grateful for your love and care of me. You are an inspiration.
M xx

Oh God My. How do I respond to your beautiful email? I know my words won’t do it justice and that I will feel very frustrated about that but nevertheless, I will give it a try.

Firstly thank you for being so generous and loving in your response to our posts. To take the time to write down your feelings and reactions and send them is a gift to us darling. It really is.

Secondly, to be so honest and authentic and open-hearted is an amazing way to be. Millions of people will never, ever get to that place. You are brave and courageous to make yourself vulnerable and to trust that we love you and won’t let you fall.

Maybe you have to believe in yourself more My. There will always be other ‘things’ to do, to get done, that can’t wait. So there is a choice. Those ‘things’ will always be there – well, hopefully not always – but stuff like washing clothes and boring stuff like that. And what is the worst thing that will happen if you don’t put those ‘things’ first but rather do them later? Probably nothing too dire. Certainly nothing as dire as cancer. So ??? Believe in you darling. What you have to say, to create, to write – self expression – is far more important than anything else. Yes, even the house. There has to be room for you in all this. In this vital part of you. This expression of you. And I don’t think that you are running out of time. I just think you need to make the decision to be all of you.

Thanks again darling thing. Be a warrior for yourself. All my love xxoo

We’ve all heard it before, but it truly is amazing what a bit of forced ‘down time’ can achieve. I have been off work or on reduced hours since late January – initially as a planned break, but then as a forced reduced commitment through illness.

Having to be less invested in my employment has been a revelation for me. Hard fought change, and I wouldn’t recommend my path to anyone, but if you are looking for upsides, reducing stress is surely a big one.

I have been able to put in a bit of time on updates to this site (still not fully up-to-date, but getting there – latest progress reports under Building progress), I’ve revisited my drawing skills and started developing a cartoon, I’ve weeded, pruned and planted in my tiny garden, I’ve helped Richard when I can on creeping our build forward, and I’ve begun more regular mindfulness practice (yeah, me, mindfulness!).

The coin toss was my cancer diagnosis in February, but the real kick-off was probably the 10 days forced rest in hospital and the weeks of (bored, bored, bored) recovery that followed at home.

So, here I am, finally nearing the end of my treatments and looking forward to having it all behind me. I know, even when I return to full time work, and life settles back into my ‘new normal’, that I will not be the same person I was when 2017 began. And that’s not a bad thing.

I have had no choice but to eat my elephant one mouthful at a time (learning that sometimes you just need to go with the flow), but I will be eternally grateful for Richard, my family, my devoted friends and work colleagues, and my medical team for not having to eat it on my own (learning that the only thing that is actually important in this life is the love you give and the love you receive).

Read more about my current circumstances on Personal journey

A year ago we travelled to Adelaide to farewell Rich’s mum. It was an intensely quiet funeral. No notices in the paper. Not the way we would have wanted it, but there it is.

Now, this May, just over a year on, we farewell my mum. Suddenly, but not unexpected. Both our mums slipped quietly away, on their own terms, without family by their bedsides.

Having lost both our dads 13 years ago, we have now said farewell to that generation. We are on our own, and me feeling even more so having ‘forgotten’ to have children.

My mum’s death has left me feeling a little adrift. With all that has been going on in our lives, with the stalling of our build due to finances and family ‘issues’, with concerns at work, and ongoing health problems, it is probably no wonder I am left feeling a little ‘rudderless’.

Mum had long since stopped being a source of direct support, emotionally, financially or practicably. Her age and physical limitations had meant her world had shrunk to a single room, and while the nursing home staff were (and are) an amazing bunch of people, mum’s days had been reduced to the routine of waking, eating, washing and sitting, then eating again before sleeping at sundown. So long gone were the days of an unplanned Sunday evening meal together, a jar (or three) of jam or a couple of cakes to put in the freezer…

But the loss of my last parent has impacted on me more profoundly.

Mum’s was a life of giving. She gave endlessly to us kids; the practicalities of food, shelter, clothing, even long after we left home. She gave endlessly to her community; visiting sick neighbours with food, taking care of kids when parents were unable to, taking part in meals on wheels, mothers clubs and school committees. And she gave 40 years of volunteering to Red Cross; secretary of her local unit for many years and coordinating the local mobile blood bank well into her eighties.

Reflecting on mum’s life of giving to her community, leaves me wondering about my own life’s ‘achievements’ and my distinct lack of belonging to a ‘community’. Even if I start tomorrow, it’s unlikely I will live long enough to clock up 40 years on anything.