Humane Resource

Those who matter don't mind

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Thu, 24 May 2012 01:29:00 +0000

I've read people talking about depression and saying how they are grateful to have had it because it allows them to understand things better. Of course when I read this I was so low that I thought it was ridiculous. This week though I've begun to see it and I am grateful that I've been there and I understand what it's about. I didn't have this insight a few months ago.

It means that when someone says to me, 'I don't know what's going on and I feel terrible' or 'I feel so isolated, like I'm not connected to anyone' or 'I'm so scared and I'm paralysed and I can't do anything to make it better' I can say, 'I've been there, tell me more about it'.

I have more of an understanding of myself now that I've ever had and on the good days I can see things with a clarity I've never had before. This clarity is sometimes like getting kicked in the face, but it means that I'm able to make the right decisions for myself and stop myself from repeating past mistakes. I still get it wrong, but I know I'm getting it right a lot more than I used to.

When we're low we don't have the emotional energy to seek support from others and we isolate ourselves not realising that the people that love us and that are in the inner circle don't find it an effort to offer us support.

We each carry burdens and feel like it is too much to ask for help, but for the people who care offering support is natural.

It has surprised me and left me in awe of people that when I've opened up and told them about what is going on for me I've then heard their story and realised how alike we all are. It is our vulnerabilities that create connections.

The people who matter won't mind, will love you through the bad days and help you to enjoy the good days.

You'll never...

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Tue, 22 May 2012 12:18:00 +0000

'You'll never get where you want to be doing that' is becoming one of my most hated phrases, alongside, 'you have to do A in order to get to B'.

You'll never get anywhere if you don't do well in school
You'll never get a good job if you don't have a university degree
You'll never succeed in your career if you don't play the game
You have to have a plan if you're going to be successful
You'll never, if you don't...

Here's the only one that I actually believe: You'll never get to where you want to be if you listen to the people that tell you these things.

There is no rule about how you should live your life (except for the legal type things of course). It is unlikely you will take the same route as everyone else, but that doesn't make your path any less valid.

How many of the successful people you admire stuck to the rules, went through school, got a degree and then played the game in the business world?

I did well in school but at 17 I had no idea who I was and what I wanted to be. It is completely unrealistic to believe that people will be able to make a decision about what they want to do and how they will get there while not having experienced the options.

It is only in the last 2-3 months I have started to find what I'm good at, what I will be happy doing each day at work. At 17, the job I'm doing now didn't even exist, so how could I possibly know it was what I wanted to do?

We put so much pressure on ourselves to know the answers and to follow the path that has been set out for us instead of just accepting that we have no control.

I've recently received some advice that I've been following more each day: stop analysing, don't try to work it out, be curious, and go with it. It's far more enjoyable than the alternative.

For the love of words

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Mon, 14 May 2012 13:55:00 +0000

I've been pretty quiet on my blog lately and not because I haven't had anything to write, but because I've been working hard (with quite a few other people) on our new Deloitte Digital website. The official launch was today, so it's been a pretty hectic (incredible, exciting, super) day.

To be able to contribute to the words that are shaping the way people think of our brand, or allow people to understand our products, or who we are has been an amazing experience. When I write I have a freedom and ease I don't think I have in many other things.

It seems strange really, when I talk to someone, I trip, stumble and fall over my words. My brain works faster than my mouth and my words end up in a heap somewhere around my ankles. But when I write I feel like I'm able to express things clearly, concisely and show people who I am.

In around nine years of blogging I've written over 120,000 words. I can't even comprehend how many more I've scribbled on pages, dredged out in essays or texted to friends.

I write as easily as I breathe. I keep remembering the card that my English teacher wrote to me at the end of year 12 it said, 'no matter what you end up doing, don't stop writing'.

There's a good chance that my every day role will involve a lot more crafting, curating and playing with words and how could I not be excited about that?

The weight of it all

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 14:33:00 +0000

Sometimes you have a moment of clarity and it's like a light bulb, everything is brighter and you feel refreshed and relieved. At other times a moment of clarity is more like a kick in the face or hitting your funny bone, it reverberates through you and leaves you feeling empty.

I'm used to the the light bulb moments so the kick in the face ones are starting to get a little dull and exhausting. Unfortunately, there are times when the reverberating moments are necessary because they help you to move forward from something and not let the hurt or pain mould you.

Recently, I realised that I've started to wear armour, not physically although for some people dealing with me it probably does feel like a real barrier. This armour is figurative and it is heavy, it weighs me down and tires me out to carry it every day.

My armour is hurt, a real and valid hurt, but not something that I should be using to shield myself from others or as a barrier. Our vulnerabilities are what make us human and what allow us to be lovable. The human experience is one of paradox, pain accompanies joy, and without darkness we cannot appreciate the light.

But I know I'm not alone when it comes to protecting myself from more hurt by cloaking myself in the old. We all to some extent carry the memories of being wronged or hurt, but how we do this will determine how we move forward and accept what has happened.

My challenge is to stop using my armour to deflect or to ward off people who I think might hurt me. The reality is that every relationship will end and will need to be grieved.

When we haven't had control of how it ends and this can be in many forms - from work, it could be getting made redundant, with a friend a fight may result in irreconcilable differences and of course the ultimate ending is in death - it is more difficult to accept and to not be shaped by it.

So what's next? I don't have that answer yet, acknowledgement is an important step. Next, I expect will come acceptance with what has happened. That doesn't mean the hurt no longer exists, but it does mean not using it as a weapon or a defence. I grieve for the people I have lost recently but in losing them I see the people who have stepped into their place.

This is the light in the darkness.

* I blame my housemate for prolonged exposure to Mass Effect 3 for the illustration accompanying this post.

Glass Half Empty

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Sun, 22 Apr 2012 13:01:00 +0000

People often say to me that I'm a 'glass half empty' type of person. I'm generally pretty happy that there's actually a glass and still something in it - seems like a positive to me.

During last week's training Sarah and I were discussing some nasty and negative people that we've been coming into contact with of late. Sarah was saying how it's not worth spending time around these people, they're glass half empty kind of people. 'I'd rather spend my time with glass half full people'.

Which prompted me to ask, 'well, why do you spend time with me then?' Without much of a pause (phew) she turned to me and said, 'because, together we make a full glass'.

Now, I know that sounds pretty darned soppy so I apologise. But it did make me think of how important it is to have people in your life who can be the other half.

Whether you're half empty or half full surround yourself with people who can be your other half.

Things not to say

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 00:17:00 +0000

Would you tell someone with a broken leg to stop complaining and just get up and go for a run? The answer (I hope) is no. Yet many people will say to someone with depression to 'cheer up, keep your chin up, it's not that bad.'

I acknowledge that when people say this it isn't out of malice, it is generally out of helplessness. They truly have no idea how to help the person they love. It must be horrible to see someone you love and know disappear in front of you and become sullen, empty and hopeless.

I never even believed in depression until I was told it was the reason I could no longer feel or think. It's the reason I lost three months of my life last year and almost my entire life. The mystery of depression is not that it exists — the mind, like the flesh, is prone to malfunction.*

Yet 1 in 5 of us will experience depression at some point in our lives. For the person going through it, there are times when it is simply impossible to see anything but the misery. It feels as if it is seeping out of your pores and into everything around you, like squid ink tainting everything you touch.

So how can you help someone who is depressed? The most simple thing is to love them. When I say love I mean, accept and allow them to be. This does not mean accepting self harming or dangerous behaviour, but providing a safe place for someone to drop the act.

There is so much time that has to be spent pretending and acting as if everything is fine and it is a relief to be able to drop that mask and just be honest and open about emotions and feelings.

It's not about solving problems or trying to fix someone, we feel like failures already without people acting like we are a problem to be fixed. Listen, ask questions, find out how they are feeling, and don't assume you know the answers.

While we won't always be able to understand exactly how someone is feeling it is still possible to empathise and to say, 'now I understand how it is for you'. We feel less powerless and defective when we understand that others feel these things too.

Whatever you might be thinking it's highly likely the depressed person has already thought it. The thoughts saying 'just get over it', 'you're ungrateful and selfish', 'what a stupid first world problem' are a constant, hearing it from others is fairly useless. Depression is a a recursive loop of woe.

As difficult as it is to be helpless, someone else can't be responsible for the illness and making it go away. All that you can do is be there, offer support, understand that sometimes just sitting and not talking is the best comfort.

'I'm here, I love you and I'm not going anywhere', is more powerful than any drug.

The Kokoda Campaign

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 14:41:00 +0000

With less than 12 weeks to go until I leave for Papua New Guinea I settled in tonight to watch the Kokoda documentary which was aired on ABC (I really recommend checking it out).

Part of the reason I've been doing my research is so that I'm prepared for what I'll be feeling when I'm there but I'm starting to realise that the emotion of it all will be raw as I walk in the steps of the soldiers who were sent to die so we could live.

The documentary detailed the battles from both points of view, with the Australians retreating from the first loss at Kokoda through to the counter attack when they managed to defeat the Japanese army after months of fighting.

Throughout the Kokoda campaign, 13,000 Japanese soldiers were killed and 2,000 Australian soldiers died. Much of the 39th and 53rd Battalion were made up of Victorians from the suburbs of Melbourne and their reinforcements the AIF were made up mostly of Victorians as well. As the battles continued reinforcements from other battalions joined the fighting.

The Japanese wrote about the humidity and how unbearable it was, 'the ground is covered so thick with moss it feels as if we are walking on a living creature, the rain is relentless and soaks the only clothes we have.' Many of the soldiers on both sides were young, from the ages of 17 to 21.

In hand to hand combat a Japanese soldier says, 'he looked so young, I questioned why I had to kill such a young soldier, he had done nothing to me'.

The more I learn about the war and in particular the Kokoda campaign the more I am struck by the horror of what these people went through. Nearly 70 years on as they speak about it the unshed tears glisten in their eyes.

I am not walking Kokoda to glorify war but to acknowledge the sacrifice and courage of those before me. The Australians, Japanese and Americans who fought and the Papua New Guineans who were invaded.

A Japanese veteran said, 'during the war they were our enemy, now I respect the Australian soldiers'.

What sense is there hating, fighting and killing, we are all a part of the same world.

Vulpes Vulpes: The environmental bandit

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 14:03:00 +0000

Today my sister forwarded a link across to me that my Dad found when he googled himself (I'm somewhat proud he did that). Dad has been working in pest management for 30 odd years.

He started in his career when he decided that he wanted to work in the area so he wrote letters to every office of DPI (or whatever it was called at the time) and offered his services in any role. His persistence resulted in him gaining a role and since then he has become one of Australia's pre-eminent fox experts.

These videos are part of a documentary that is being made around the Tasmanian Fox program and the task force that was set up after sightings and evidence led to the belief that foxes had been released in the state.

If you're not particularly interested in foxes then it's unlikely you'll find this to be engaging at all. Obviously, I think it's fantastic, partly because I find it amazing how passionate my Dad still is about his work and also because I love to hear him talk about it.

When listening to these interviews I was struck by how similar my Dad and I are. There are things that he says with a completely straight face that are so dry and to me so hilarious because I know his sense of humour. They are the type of things I would say and people would have no idea how to take them (is she joking?). I'm glad that this is something I share with him.

Anyway, that was a tangent. The point is, these two videos detail some of the work that my Dad has been involved in and if you have an understanding of the problem that foxes cause in the Australian environment then you'll be able to appreciate the work that he does.

Regardless of whether there are foxes in Tasmania or if they have been released the fact remains: if foxes were to build a population in the state it would have a devastating environmental impact.

An Invocation

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Tue, 10 Apr 2012 11:56:00 +0000

Here is a post inspired by my house mate. Tonight he asked if I had seen any of Ze Frank's video, I said 'gah?' and with a press of the magic AppleTV button (I accept PayPal, ahem) the video started.

Anyway, as it played I thought, what is this garbage. Then I put aside my thoughts and opinions for a second and I listened.

Here are a few of the things that stood out for me, probably because I've been saying them to myself a lot lately. But that's the thing isn't it, sometimes we can't hear something until we're ready for it.

Let me think about the people I care about the most and how when they fail or disappoint me I still love them, I still give them chances and I still see the best in them. Let me extend that generosity to myself.

Let me thank the parts of me I don't understand or are outside of my rational control.

Let me remember that the unintended meaning that people project onto what I do is neither my fault or something I can take credit for.

Let me remember that the impact of criticism is often not the intent of the critic.

And finally...

Let me take the idea that has gotten me this far and put it to bed, what I'm about to do will not be that.

But it will be something.

The Agitator

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Wed, 04 Apr 2012 12:32:00 +0000

There is someone in my life that agitates me so much sometimes I'm not sure whether to punch them or hug them.

They do this to me on almost a daily basis and I have never met someone who has the ability to push my buttons in so many ways so frequently. At the same time as they are driving me crazy or pushing my buttons they can also make me laugh and make me feel accepted and not judged for who I am. They've put up with a lot from me and for some reason still keep being there for me.

You get the gist now right?

They annoy me, infuriate me and most of all challenge me. I have a fairly strong personality and they call me on my drama or my stories. I get told, "Nope, when you say that I'm just going to say 'that's enough' and then you'll stop".

Agitator's are necessary in life because they force us to look at ourselves. They make us look at our lives and our behaviour in a way that others don't. Instead of sugar coating things and saying what we want to hear they tell us no and to stop whining.

That's not to say that we always need to be agitated sometimes we just want to be coddled. But having someone who can push us and make us question things is good, it means that the things we really believe in we'll fight for and the rest we can let go of.

I think I agitate this person just as much as they agitate me so I guess we're even.

Yes, this post is about you.

The Things We Carry

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 12:31:00 +0000

Tonight as I walked home from work as part of my Kokoda training my pack felt heavier than normal (it may have been the four pairs of shoes stuffed in it), as I walked I was continually trying to readjust it. The weight was sitting wrong so I pulled at the straps to get the pack sitting in the right place, but to no avail.

While I walked I thought about a book we read in high school called 'The Things They Carried', the book was about the Vietnam war and while it spoke about the physical things they carried it also spoke about much more. The things they carried were 'largely determined by necessity. They carried pocket knives, can openers, matches, C rations and canteens of water'. But among the necessities, they also carried the weight of memory. They took up what others could no longer bear'.

We may not be so aware of the weight of the things we carry each day because it's not necessarily a physical weight. I can assure you though if I put into my pack all the things I worry about, think about or obsess over my pack would weigh far more than it did today. If you were to put all of your worries, anxieties and stresses into a pack and carry it around with you, how much would it weigh?

Each of us has baggage it may be old, battered and still getting dragged around with us years after we should have let it go, or it may be new, or just on the edge of our consciousness in a place where we can't yet deal with it. I recently found out someone I love very much is unwell but doesn't want anyone to know. They do not want to burden others with their illness and with the feelings of hopelessness and the fear that we might lose them.

In choosing to carry this weight all on their own they are making it far heavier, there is a myriad of people surrounding them who would share the weight and who need to know of this illness in order to prepare themselves for what might be ahead.

Not all of us choose to carry something like this on our own. But we carry many other things without allowing people in, to let them see our pain or fear and to help us bear the weight.

We say we don't want to burden others but here's the thing about love, it is ours to give, another person can't choose whether we love them or what we are willing to give to them. In worrying about burdening others, we only alienate ourselves and add to our own burden.

The things we carry are not just our own.

This is Not Sarcastic

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Mon, 26 Mar 2012 10:52:00 +0000

About a month ago I was speaking with a friend about one of my posts and going into a bit more detail about what it was about, I think it was this one, he looked at me a bit askew for a minute and I asked him why. He then said, 'well I've never heard you speak about your posts before, I always read them thinking if you were saying this to me I'd think you were being sarcastic'. He had a point, I used to think I was being witty or dry but it turns out the majority of people think my sarcasm is unbecoming. What's worse is that often people don't know when I'm being serious so they don't know how to respond or interact with me.

That's not exactly ideal. It's hard to work out what level of this behaviour is my 'personality' and which of it is conditioned, I do know that some of it seems to be changing. The more time I spend trying to decipher what's happening in my head the better I think it's getting.

Today when having a conversation with someone I was told to stop quoting my blog posts at them, it would seem I was inadvertently saying the things that I usually just write. So while I might have been able to write how I feel and want to behave for a while now it's taken a little longer for me to be able to do it with other people.

There is still a long way to go and I know that I've made quite a few mistakes more recently that have not reflected the person that I want to be. This is disappointing when it happens, not only to me but to anyone that I hurt or upset but we all make mistakes. I'd like to think I won't have to pay for those mistakes for the rest of my life, but only time will tell.

This Post is About You

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Sat, 24 Mar 2012 01:01:00 +0000

I can generally attribute my blog posts to a person or a conversation and I think that most people who write would agree, often what we're writing is to someone, even if we don't think that person will ever read it. When I write it's almost an open letter and so often when people are reading they'll think they know who a post is about or perhaps even think it's about them.

Yesterday I spoke to someone about my posts and the ones that have been attributed to them, they mentioned my post on connection and how reading it made them feel less bad about things that had happened. The funny thing is that post wasn't about them, there are absolutely many parallels between the people (and really they can both take a bit of credit for being my support) but in this instance he wasn't my muse.

It made me think that sometimes we'll just see what we want to see, we'll ignore the evidence to the contrary or not listen when people tell us not to do something, because sometimes seeing things through our own filter or with our blinkers on is all we have the capacity for at the time.

It reminds me how futile it is to try to convince someone of an opinion or to change the behaviour of others because ultimately it is the individual who is in control. The more you try to beat an idea into someone the more resistant they will become. So there are times that even though it pains us to do so we must stand back and let people come to conclusions on their own.

The best way to support someone is just to let them know you're there, not to provide solutions, not to fix, but just to be. To say, 'I'm here, I care, you're safe' and then allow the rest to happen. Unfortunately, we all move at different speeds and sometimes the inclination to push overrides even the best of intentions.

Vulnerability is not Weakness

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Fri, 23 Mar 2012 01:02:00 +0000

Last year I came across a Brene Brown video on vulnerability, and when I saw the follow up talk linked I thought it just needed to be shared.

'Vulnerability is not weakness, I define it as emotional risk, exposure, uncertainty, it fuels our daily lives, it is our most accurate measurement of courage'.

The critic we see pointing and laughing is us, shame drives two big tapes; I'm never good enough & who do you think you are.

I'm sorry, I made a mistake is extremely different to, I'm sorry I am a mistake.

Vulnerability is courage.

Everything is a Paradox

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 05:38:00 +0000

To be human is to be a paradox, the same person can be all things, good and evil, loyal and betraying, loving and hurtful. There are days where my emotions go completely from one end to another and the people around me cop the full spectrum. There are times when we cannot forgive someone for their behaviour because of how deeply it has hurt us, but I know I often need to be reminded that if it wasn't for the times others had been forgiving I also wouldn't have made the cut.

Even with the realisation that human behaviour is full of paradoxes it can be hard to let go of hurt or a feeling of betrayal, but sometimes it has to be done in order to be able to love. How can you truly love someone if you don't accept the bad parts of them?

I read a tweet from Alain de Botton the other day which summed up bitter disputes as, each party being convinced the other cannot have suffered more than they. I know for sure this is why I lash out at people or get irrationally angry, it's because I believe that I've been hurt more, and because I've been hurt more I get to be the one that's angry and mean and the other person has no right to be. Now, when I write it like that I see how unfair it is, just because I have been hurt it doesn't mean that other people haven't been as well.

As I wrote yesterday, our reality is only as big as our own thoughts. When I'm thinking I've been wronged the other person may be thinking the same; and they are dealing with the perception and the story in their head of what's happened. It's no wonder we're not on the same page.

I've been pondering this over the last few days thinking, 'how dare that person ignore me, they're the one that hurt me!' It took a little bit of time until the penny dropped and I realised, 'why would they want to talk to me, I've been horrible, the things I've said would have hurt them they way that they've hurt me.' If I am going to expect forgiveness for my behaviour then it's only fair that I offer the same to those who have hurt me.

To err is human, to forgive divine.

The Size of Thoughts

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 01:25:00 +0000

The good thing about training is that for a couple of hours each week Sarah and I get together usually somewhere very pretty and get a chance to catch up. On Sunday we went to the You Yangs to do the Flinder's Peak and East-West Walk during our walk we talked about someone who has had a horrible ten years.

Even just one of the things that has happened to this person would make most people curl up in a ball and say, 'Nope, I'm not doing anything any more', but this person has kept going. While we talked Sarah said something which has really resonated with me, 'the problem is, for this whole time, she's been completely on her own, she hasn't had any support, she hasn't had anyone to talk to and your reality is only as big as your own thoughts'.

When we are depressed or feeling guilt or any all consuming emotion we can't think about things from another perspective and we can't see outside of our own pain. This makes it pretty hard for us to connect with people and empathise because we're so stuck in our own mindset.

I know I've been behaving pretty badly lately and it's because I haven't been able to think about things outside of where my head is at in the current moment. That means that I end up behaving based on anger, or fear or hurt and not in a way that actually helps a situation.

Your reality is only as big as your own thoughts.

Even Loyalty has Limits

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 13:37:00 +0000

I love football, I love it because I go to the games with my Dad. I remember going to my first game with him as a kid at the MCG and sitting on the old wooden seats (in his day they didn't even have seats), since then I have been to countless games with him.

Football for me equals my Dad, it's my time I get to spend with him every week (or other week) to catch up, have a drink and share something we both love. He's followed our team since he was about 8 so for around 47 years. I followed Geelong until about year 7 when I switched (I know - the horror) and started to follow Dad's team.

It wasn't until I moved to Melbourne and started to attend more games with Dad that we spoke about membership but we didn't really see the point in committing when we could just choose the games we wanted to go to.

However, in 2009 that changed in Round 5 my Dad said to me, 'We're going to be in the Grand Final this year - so we're becoming members.' I wish he'd said, 'we're going to win the Grand Final', but I digress. That was our first year as members, we joined, received our packs and did end up getting tickets to see the Grand Final.

It was a no-brainer for us to renew the next year and we happily did so, with our 11 game membership and social club on top. It took a little longer than usual to receive our membership packs and by the time we got the information about reserved seats for the season it was 6 rounds in and not worth it. But we still had our second year of membership and another two Grand Finals.

In 2011, we were starting to wane a bit, the team had been battered and our spirits were pretty low, but we thought we have to support them now more than ever. Dad got a little carried away and upgraded us to a 16 game membership plus reserved seats. This was great, saves hassles going to the game, just turn up and sit down. When we received our membership packs we were excited to see our seats for our home stadium were in a fantastic position. Dad then got a phone call, 'Sorry, we've just realised that your seats on the wing are actually the spots reserved for our players, we're going to change them'. Our great row K seats on the wing then got changed to directly behind the goals. Not so great, we called to see if they could be changed to a better spot and were told, 'Sure, that'll be $180 each'. So we left it.

Which brings us to this year, we sent in our forms in January with a request to change our reserved seats to the wing (even if it does cost more), payment was put through and were waiting for our packs. By mid February they hadn't arrived and Dad called, it turned out our membership had been incorrectly put in the unpaid folder and left in limbo. Dad was assured he would receive a phone call the next day to correct this and get our reserved seats confirmed. The next day came and went, no phone call. Dad called back and spoke to the person who was supposed to call and sorted it out.

Three weeks down the track I receive an email from the club saying, 'Have you thought about renewing your membership?' Hang on... I have renewed, my pack should be in the mail. I tweeted at the club to enquire and promptly received a reply to say the membership manager would call me the next day. That was more than a week ago, I still haven't received a phone call.

If this was any other brand we would have given up and taken our money elsewhere a long time ago, if we were buying a TV and not a membership we'd have chosen a new one. But we love the sport, we love our team, we want to go to the ground every week and support them.

But even so, there is only so much loyalty you can expect from your supporters before even they will give up.

Four Reasons my Step Nieces are Amazing

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 04:24:00 +0000

Yesterday I spent a few hours with my gorgeous and vibrant step-nieces, they are three and five and it's impossible for me to spend time with them and leave in a bad mood. They have very different personalities and it's been pretty great to see them grow and change over the last few years. People often talk about the innocence of children and how refreshing it is to spend time with them but the more I think about it the more it seems to be a lack of cynicism rather than an innocence.

There are a few things which make my step-nieces so amazing and these are just a few of them;

Curiosity - They are constantly curious, asking questions, trying to work out how things work, playing, exploring and imagining. They don't worry about whether a question might sound silly or what people will think about them, they ask, they learn and they absorb.
Openness - Both the girls are so open, they'll come up to friends and family and ask for a hug and they are both constantly telling each other and the people around them, 'I love you'. In January, while down at the beach the youngest of the two jumped onto my lap, wrapped her arms around my neck and said, "Ellison, I love all of your stuff and all of your things". My heart is still melting from that one. They are both so open with affection, with love and all without fear of rejection or worrying about the consequences.
Ephemerality - Yup, that is actually a word. Yesterday the oldest of the girls fell off her scooter, I went over to her, she showed me her arm and started to tear up, her sister came over to check she was ok and within two minutes she was back on her scooter. The girls don't hold grudges and a bad mood or experience doesn't yet mean something to them. It's just a thing that happens, and then another thing happens after it, and another. They don't hold onto these moments, don't analyse them, try to work out what they mean, the happen and then they pass.
Honesty - 'From the mouths of babes', kids don't have a filter and this is great, it means that whatever you're being told is not sugar-coated, they don't lie because they think it'll hurt someone less than the truth, they just say it. So that means that sometimes I get hit with, 'Why are your teeth yellow?' but then other times it's 'Why is your hair so pretty?' They don't worry about hurting someone, or about feeling bad or about wanting people to like them. They are just themselves, which is fantastic. There is no agenda, no manipulation and no cowardice, just what they see and what they feel.

Those four things, curiosity, openness, ephemerality and honesty get lost as we get older, as we have negative experiences and then try to avoid them in the future. But avoidance of pain doesn't necessarily lead to a lack of pain. I touched on this in a post last year about being once bitten, and twice shy and how we get conditioned to think and behave once we've made mistakes or been shunned.

My beautiful nieces haven't yet lost these qualities and they're lucky enough to be surrounded by a large and loving family so I hope they'll continue to be like this for a long time to come. The best way I can teach them to continue to be like this is by trying to do it myself.

Connection.

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Wed, 07 Mar 2012 10:53:00 +0000

We are not our possessions or our job or even where we live. Who we are and the things that we think about when our life is going to end is the people we love and the connections we have made.

Last year, I lost the ability to connect, not only with joy and happiness but with the people around me and most importantly with myself. From September to November my memory is almost a blank, I know that I got up and did the things I was supposed to do every day but I don't have much of a recollection of the things that happened.

Except for one person, this person made me feel less alone and made me feel connected. There is something incredibly special and so unique about having someone in your life who you can go to in any mood, looking like you've been dragged through a hedge, and telling them the darkest things that you're feeling and to be accepted.

People said to me that if I came out and said what it is that I've been going through for the last six months I would be judged, I would be shunned and I would become 'that messed up chick'. That hasn't happened, so far all I have received is support.

This is only a week into more people knowing about it, but what I can't forget and will always appreciate is the person who was there through all of this. The person who mopped up after me, who could understand what I was going through and could make me feel less alone, like I was normal again. I was never scared to be vulnerable with them because I knew that I would not be judged.

I no longer know what part this person will play in my life but they will always be the reason I'm still here so they'll always be loved (not just by me but by all the people that love me).

That connection helped me to feel again and to help me start getting back to myself.

International Women's Day

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Wed, 07 Mar 2012 04:41:00 +0000

This year I was going to write about how if we as women want to be treated the same then we shouldn't have these events or days which single us out. Because then aren't we just continually saying, 'Hey! We're different, give us awards or acknowledge us'. Then I realised how self righteous that was and that I might be a bit more grateful for these rights if I was living a less privileged lifestyle.

At 26, I have access to birth control, can live with who I want, I'm working my way through my Masters Degree and I earn significantly more than my mother ever did. If I choose to have children I will be able to access paid maternity leave and will have access to health care and it's fair to assume I would still have a pretty good quality of life after this.

It's easy to forget that what I have and what I consider normal is not normal for others, this isn't just women, it's children and many men who live in conditions where their rights are compromised.

I believe that we shouldn't need a special day to recognise the achievements of women, but women also shouldn't have to fear their safety, have no control over their bodies and or be paid less due to their gender.

When these are no longer exceptions to the rule then maybe we won't need a day, because equality will be the norm.

Guilt

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Mon, 05 Mar 2012 12:14:00 +0000

I received an email today regarding my post on depression asking whether I've felt guilt and the short answer is: yes, but that's not much of a post so here is the long answer. We all feel guilt and most of the time it makes sense, maybe it's because we've hurt someone and guilt ensures that we apologise and fix it. That type of guilt makes sense and we should feel it.

Throughout this time I've felt guilt at different times, I felt guilty as my Dad sat next to my bed in hospital looking like he'd aged ten years in one day and as my friends tried to help me and make sense of what was happening. I felt like I was letting down my colleagues at work and people who were relying on me.

Then of course there was the guilt about how I was feeling, thinking I was being selfish, I've got so much how can I not appreciate it? Why can't I just be happy for the things I do have and stop thinking about the things I don't? Why can't I feel happy when something good happens?

But feeling guilty about being depressed makes you feel a heck of a lot worse and it doesn't serve a purpose. All it is does is add to the overwhelming crushing emotions and for me that meant I spent a lot of time in bed or on the couch trying to ignore the world.

For me letting go of the guilt was about accepting that this wasn't something I've chosen and that depression is real, that took a bit of time and from time to time I do still think to myself, 'just cheer up!' I often feel guilt when I'm trying to explain to someone how I feel or what it's like in my head and they say, 'oh look on the bright side, it's not that bad, you're being dramatic.' While I realise that people are trying to help and they probably feel as lost as I do about all of this approach doesn't help.

When I'm getting overwhelmed by emotions now I try to be mindful and curious, to allow the emotion to manifest and to pass. I've learnt that pushing it away doesn't work and will end up being detrimental, although it is inconvenient when I burst into tears in the office.

While I might feel guilt, anxiety and paralysing fear I also feel compassion and I've been learning through this to be my own support, to build the resilience to be able to deal with this, acknowledge the negative emotions and try not to dwell on them.

My Black Dog

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Fri, 02 Mar 2012 11:37:00 +0000

Four pillars stand at the Kokoda memorial at Isurava, each pillar bears a plaque with a word, they read, Courage, Mateship, Endurance and Sacrifice. When I speak to people about Kokoda and the challenge that it will be, they ask me 'why?' and whether I think I can make it.

What most people don't know, except for those closest to me is that for just over 6 months every day for me has been about endurance and courage and trying to push myself through, even when I feel like I'm empty. The thing is, I shouldn't be alive but because of mateship I survived and in the six months since I've had to start my fight with depression.

I never even used to believe that depression was real, I thought that people should just be able to toughen up and get over it and well I've tried that, and it doesn't work. It actually makes me feel worse, like more of a failure. Why can't I just be grateful for what I've got because I certainly have more than millions of others? But depression is a bit of a scumbag and will stick around regardless.

So I've begun to live what I feel is a double life with those that know and those that don't and not being able to describe to people why some days I really just can't make conversation or why my mood might plummet unexpectedly or why I don't seem like I was before.

I struggle with being able to describe to people what this actually feels like for me and I expect that the way each person experiences this is different, but I'm sure I'm not alone when I say I'm lost when it comes to trying to explain where my head is at. Most of my answers are, 'I don't know' because I truly don't understand, I no longer know myself and every time I start to get 'better' to be 'normal' I find myself losing it all over again. It is a constant trek and I am very grateful that over this time I have had people around me who have shared the weight of it and who have loved me through it.

For the most part I have managed to hold it together and keep doing the things I'm supposed to so as not to raise suspicion. But anyone else who has been here will know how hard that is, and how exhausting it is to deal with this on a daily basis. I have been told I shouldn't write about this and I shouldn't let people know what's really going on but I really don't care any more. I am not responsible for the opinions held by others.

I no longer have the energy to keep up this double life. If I'm going to be able to find my way back to me to somehow find how I can be the best version of me again then there's only room for courage and truth. People constantly tell me how strong I am and so today I'm being strong by admitting that this is part of who I am right now. I have depression and this might be something I have to deal with for the rest of my life.

I am going to continue to have good and bad days, and some of the bad days are going to be really bad, but I am at least comforted that when I have good days now I actually feel good. That's a lot better than feeling nothing.

This is something I will have to continue to endure, if I can do Kokoda when I'm at my worst then at least I still have my best to look forward to.

Distorted Perspective

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 05:57:00 +0000

As I sat at the football on Friday night I thought about perspective, with around 20,000 people in the stadium, the players on the ground and the footage on TV I began to wonder about perspective. What I was seeing when I looked down onto the field wouldn't be the same as what others were seeing, even from my Dad's seat next to me he'd be seeing something slightly different.

Looking down onto the ground I noticed how the NAB logo looked from my seat, it is painted onto the field in a particular way to ensure that on TV it will look right. But from my seat it was stretched, angled and distorted.

For the players directly on it they would know what it says but only be seeing parts of it, a particular colour or shape of a letter, others in the stands will be seeing something different again and those people watching on TV would see it as it meant to be seen.

This made me think about how our position can change our perspective, and that even if we sit in someone else's seat to try and understand their view we'll still be seeing it through our own filters. This is an important thing to realise, we often waste time trying to convince people of our opinion or perspective and while others can have an understanding it's not always necessary to convince someone of it. It can also be about timing, my perspectives on certain things and issues have changed over time and through experience and shaped the views I have now.

We may not ever see something exactly the same as someone else but we can still try to understand why they feel a certain way or be empathetic and compassionate to their situation. We're not responsible for how others behave but we are responsible for how we react to them and how we treat them as a result.

Certainly Terrified

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 05:15:00 +0000

This week I paid my deposit for Kokoda, and I have to say I have never before been so simultaneously excited and terrified about something. I am terrified about it for a number of reasons, firstly my opinions and thoughts around this trek have been shaped by things I've heard and seen. I've read about how mentally and physically exhausting it will be and heard about people who have been injured or who've died while doing it.

It is also a completely new experience for me, I've been pretty sedentary for at least the last 5 years and my only experience with climbing was Cradle Mountain in Tasmania more than 10 years ago (I beat my Dad to the top even if he won't admit it). The temperature, intensity and terrain will be difficult to prepare for and I'll be heading to 99% humidity from a Melbourne winter.

There are a lot of reasons to be scared and apprehensive. I expect that this will fade once I get there and I'm able to acclimatise, I'll be getting the information I need so that I am not anxious about it. The more I know and can understand about something the more comfortable I am with it. I can be pretty difficult to deal with if I don't have the answers or I don't know what is going on.

While I'm pretty scared I'm also very excited, there is the physical side of the challenge, it's a great reason to start doing some serious exercise and to get a lot more fit. But more than anything I think that this will be a mental challenge. I found when I returned to running that it was my head holding me back most of the time because I was physically able to run but making excuses for myself.

Once I'm on the trail there aren't any options, the only way out is to keep walking and on the days where I don't feel like it any more, when I'm exhausted, hot and tired I will have to keep going and get my head into a better place. Even if I can't change my head space, I will just have to suck it up and keep walking. Sarah said to me a few weeks ago, 'You don't have to be happy, you can be miserable, but keep thinking positive things anyway'. This is my challenge. When unhappy, when exhausted, keep going and get to the end.

Even though I'm worried, even though I don't quite know what to expect or even how I will respond to what is ahead I'm excited. Because in all of this uncertainty is opportunity, something new and an experience I won't ever forget.

When I Grow Up.

noreply@blogger.com (@EllisonAmy) — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 13:58:00 +0000

When I was in Prep I wanted to get married to my next door neighbour who I was besotted with and have a farm with a huge barn, a few years after that I decided I wanted to be an Agricultural Scientist so I could share in the work that my Dad does saving the planet from environmental bandits. In High School I wanted to be a Psychologist until I realised I wasn't good enough at the subjects I needed, then it was a Writer and then an Artist.

Once I got to University and started my Visual Arts degree I found that the practical side of art sucked all the joy I had for it and took something I loved and made it too complicated, too analytical and no longer pure. Then after working in some horrid office jobs I decided on HR and after about 4 years on that path I'm now in Social Media.

A couple of weeks ago I was asked, 'where do you want to be in five years?' and the truth is, I have no idea. I could barely tell you where I want to be by the end of this year. I used to think that when I became an adult, when I was a 'grown up' all these things would make sense, like there is this magic point when you turn 18 and you get all the answers.

Well now I'm 26 and I'm no closer to getting any of the answers, and I'm no closer to working out what I want to be when I grow up, or even who I want to be when I grow up.

Sometimes I look around me at all the other grown ups and wonder if I'm the only one that has no idea what they're doing. Because we all manage to look so secure, so sure of who we are and where we're going. We don't often admit that we have no idea.

The work I'm doing now barely existed five years ago and the work I'm doing in another five years may not exist yet either. I don't have all the answers (I've barely got any), though I'm not short of questions.

I admit, I have no idea what I'm doing and I may not ever know. At least that's something I know?