A couple of months ago I wrote a piece for a national magazine about the role of crowd-funding for creative people. About how creating a platform where people can make donations, can help fund the ideas that we have welling inside of ourselves, can provide a chance where we may not have had a chance before.

I met Rose through the Australian Writers Centre. There is a little collection of people who have graduated from a few of the writing courses and by some online twist of fate we all connect with each other and help each other out. When Rose shared with us her latest endeavour to crowdfund her passion I jumped at the chance to ask her a few questions because, from researching the story I did for the mag, I was interested in the intersection between wanting to get our ideas out there and looking after yourself. Looking after the space between passion and success.

So sit back (its chilly here so grab some tea) and have a read and a listen to Rose and her thoughts…

Rose – tell me a little about you?

I’m a singer-songwriter (acoustic folk/pop style) and a social media coach to creatives. (You can listen to my first record for free here.) I’m slightly obsessed with coffee and chocolate.

I’m in love with the power of stories. Over time, I’ve realised I have choices about the stories I tell myself and others, and those choices have played a huge role in the opportunities that come my way, and my level of happiness.

I work with creatives (musicians, writers, bloggers, painters, photographers etc.) to help them realise they have the same choices, to help them identify their story and the most powerful ways to share it with people using social media to grow their confidence and opportunities.

What’s your project?

Right now I’m finishing off my second record and running a crowd funding campaign to help me give it the biggest wings possible! I recorded it in Alice Springs in the first week of May, will be releasing it in September, and touring in September/October.

I’m really excited about crowd funding – it gives me the opportunity to do something a bit different, to offer unique experiences to fans so that we can eat chocolate together, get creative together and get to know each other better!

Rewards for pledging range from $10 to $500 and include things like a pre-release copy of the new record, writing a song together, a song-writing workshop for 6 people at your house, Skype concerts, and tickets to a deluxe house concert in a top-secret location in Melbourne before any of the tour dates, where I’ll perform the songs from the new record for the first time, share chocolate goodies baked by me, and tell the stories behind the songs.

What’s the space in between your passion and your creativity – what gets you out of bed, what makes your heart sing?

My heart sings when I play a show and everyone gets so involved in a song that there’s a long pregnant silence afterwards, and no-one wants the feeling to end.

My heart sings when I see someone’s face light up with the realisation that they can do whatever they want, that they’re not alone with the challenges they’re experiencing, and there are ways through the challenges.

My heart sings when someone tells me that after a coaching session, they believe in themselves more, and that they’ve had a fantastically sexy opportunity come their way that they’ve never had before (they’ve signed their first client in less than 24 hours from our session together, booked a show at a place they never would have had the guts to approach before, or been approached by a publishing house about the story they’re writing – just because they decided to mention it on Twitter).

How do you manage the demands of crowd funding with looking after yourself? Others who have been through a similar process all shared the exhaustion that comes with being your own PR person when you want to realise a dream 

I’m terrible at looking after myself. I put myself last. I put my creative work and coaching work first, then looking after my husband and my kitten, then supporting other artists I admire by going to their shows and events, then keeping my plants alive, then me.

Ironically, I had a crash this week. It might have had something to do with the fact that I hadn’t given myself a day in over two weeks. I’d just gotten back home after 5 days of recording in Alice Springs. I’d started each day with half an hour online to keep people posted about what I was up to, recorded for 8-11 hours, and then spent another 1-2 hours online catching up on replying to people who had pledged to or shared my crowd-funding project page.

I was brought to tears when I posted up on Facebook and Twitter that I was stressed – I asked people what they do to cope, and I was overwhelmed with love, support, and practical suggestions. I did some of those things and felt much better (dabbed myself in lavender essential oil, went for a long walk, had a nice meal with my husband, patted our kitten, ate chocolate, had an early night).

Fortunately, a while back I realised that the first free weekend I had on the calendar was not for several months and my husband and I decided we would make this weekend a “no plans” weekend. We’re spending it together and we’re not saying “yes” to anything we’ve been invited to. We’re going to see how we feel at the time. I’m really looking forward to it! I’ll still have to do some work – weekends are a crucial time for social media – but I’ll be keeping it to a minimum. I think I’ll be scheduling my time off more in future!

What are your top tips for remaining focused while being kind to yourself?

Do as I say, not as I do!

I have no problem remaining focused, but I have a very hard time stopping work, and being kind to myself.

I use the best friend trick. If it was your best friend who was trying to do all this work in these unrealistic timeframes, would you tell them to stop and take a break? Would you run them a bath and light some candles and tell them to have an early night? Would you tell them that no-one will die if they don’t get it done now, and pass them a cup of tea and give them a hug? If it’s one of those scenarios, it’s a good sign you should be stopping and doing those things for yourself!

I’m also very honest on Twitter and Facebook about whether I feel like I’m not coping, and there have been many occasions where kind people have nagged me to be nicer to myself, and bossed me offline if they know I haven’t had a break in a long while.

I have a busy head and find myself multi-tasking most of the time, so one thing I do now is, if I want to read something when I’m eating a meal, or about to go to sleep, I make sure it’s something not related to my work. I love escaping into other worlds by reading. I just finished reading Neil Gaiman’s “The Graveyard Book”, which was wonderful. I often have two or three books on the go at once.

How can people support you?

Crowdfunding for this record has been so good for me, because it’s forced me to ask for help. I’m terrible at asking for help!

You can help me by:

- sharing the link to my project page www.pozible.com/rosewintergreen

- pledging your support

- telling your friends and family about it

- talk to me on twitter

- letting me know if you have ideas about other ways I can get the word out (e.g., maybe you have a favourite local radio station who you think would love to interview me about the project? Maybe you know a group of people who would like to learn more about crowdfunding, and I could come and talk to you about it?)

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Thanks so much Rose. Crowdfunding, whilst a lovely idea, can be really taxing on the people putting themselves out there but regardless of that so many people try because living a rich and meaningful life is all about embracing your creativity.

What would you crowdfund if you had the chance?

Sometimes when a thought is triggered there is no alternative but to stop and listen to it. It might be a slow burning idea that sits deep down but the more you try to silence it the louder it can become.

TedxSydney had an energy, a Castle-like vibe that doesn’t tend to come from attending a work conference or a seminar on a topic you’re interested in. Suddenly the 2000 people that had grabbed a ticket all looked like someone I might want to stop and have a chat with. I should have thought better about the talk to me about missing people hanging from my lanyard and maybe more about talk to me about my secret desire to be Annabel Crabb when  grow up. Next time.

Oh and the pic up here ^^ thats me on the day drawn by this dude.

13 hours trapped within the majestic Sydney Opera House is bound to have a good effect on anyone so rather than tell you what I ate (the best nougat ever) what I drank (too much in too little time) and who I talked to (lotsa people, lotsa hand shakes, lotsa nodding and smiling) I thought Id list the top 5 things that stood out to me on the day for you all to read, digest and maybe add more to…

1. A cold beer can cause you to stop, change career and find yourself on crutches on stage at the Opera House..

This was Alice Gorman’s story. She found herself staring upwards at some stars back while drinking that beer after a dusty day on an archaeological dig and wondered what the historical significance of satellites might be. She took that thought and turned it into her career long focus on the origins of space exploration from the 1930s to now. She has travelled the world researching space junk, exploring what that ‘junk’ tells us about who we are, who built it, and just generally contributing to the cultural heritage of the stuff that’s out there.

Ive decided Im going to drink more beer late at night and look up. Who knows what Ill work out?

2. Challenge yourself when raising your daughters. Embrace the power of them being makers not consumers.

Marita Cheng, former Young Australian of the year, spoke about founding Robogals Global – a place where young women are inspired to become engineers, about making things, about having enquiring minds, about understanding the why and the how of things. I tweeted Marita afterwards, I wanted her to come over for dinner and meet my girls. Her infectious enthusiasm and the way she spreads ideas are ones that my babies need to hear. Im sure she’ll turn up soon…

For me I think instead of just telling the girls how stuff works Ill get them to research it for themselves. A bit of critical thinking never hurt anyone.

3. Acknowledge the people that reach out to help you. Even though you have to rely on their help to get you where you need to go.

Ron McCallum was the first speaker of the day. I guess I hadnt given much time or thought to who would speak, I just let myself think Id be dazzled by the day.

Ron is an Industrial and Discrimination Lawyer – he’s well known. My brother in law even knows him. He was the first blind man appointed to a full professorship at any Australian University.

His talk wasnt on the way of the Law it was on the way technology has enabled him to follow his passion – born blind he recalled the pivotal moment as a three year old reaching out to the picture book his mother read him. She told him ‘darling you will never see the words’ the sadness of me imagining having to say that to my own children made me feel so connected to his tale of simple bed time stories.

For many of us when we talk about the merging of technology with the past time of reading we often complain about the way in which computers detract from the warmth of the written word. What about people who, without the advances of technology, have no access to such a vast array of material. Ron acknowledged the volunteers – the students, the teachers, his family – who had read texts on to cassette tapes in the early days in order for him to complete his studies. He plotted the changes, the costs and the impacts on technology on the way in which he devoured all that he had to read. He spoke so lovingly about the role of others in helping him achieve his ideas, his passions meaning that you almost felt that he was speaking individually to each of those people who helped him along the way as he stood facing the audience.

At the end of his talk he turned and went to walk off stage with the help of his wife. He stopped after a few moments and turned and without sight told us he could feel the warmth, our standing ovation. The tears that sprang from the audience all seemed to be thanking him in sharing his wisdom. Ive teared up a few times telling that story to my husband even a week later..

Ron speaks volumes to the art of getting where you want to go and acknowledging those that walked along the way with you.

Right moving on. Eyes dried.

4. The big names are not necessarily the names we should familiarise ourselves with.

Do you know who Benny Wenda? I didnt until I heard Jennifer Robinson talk.

The reason why I wanted to hear her wasnt about her role in West Papua but the face Id seen standing behind Julian Assange over the years. Jennifer is a human rights lawyer – raised and education in Australia – who found herself involved in the advocacy and self determination struggle West Papuans have been striving for in conflict with the Indonesian Government for many many years. She travelled there as a Law Student and has been advocating for the rights of disconnected people since witnessing human rights violations. Her talk about the struggles of freedom fighter Benny, his imprisonment, his asylum seeking in the UK, his reunion with his family and Jennifers role as a Pro Bono Hero were awe inspiring to listen to right up until the moment that Benny joined her on the stage.

Suddenly the reason why I wanted to hear her talk disapeared. I wanted to hear her talk about other people, ones like Benny.

Amazing.

5. Its OK to be a social sticky beak it can lead to great things.

Rebecca Huntley describes herself as a professional eavesdropper. She also has great curly hair. Two wins for me. In Rebecca’s role as the Director of The Mind and Mood Report (a social trend reports service that looks at the ways in which we function, define ourselves as a society) she found that people don’t connect with labels, with the terms we apply – particularly to collectives  in describing who the are and what background they have. Think about it, would you ever describe yourself as a ‘battler’ or a ‘working family’? No, but we do often describe others by the labels that we wouldn’t use ourselves?  It always reminds me of that dreadful ad for women’s vitamins growing up ‘well, Im a single mum with a daughter’. Although during my short period as a single mum it did entertain me to introduce myself as this.

Rebecca spoke about the ways that people don’t want to emphasise their differences, they crave to be the same. Whats interesting though is that in reverse when we describe others we will point out the differences – to distance ourselves from others.

So the take home for me…labels are for jars not people, people! I’m going to try harder to not refer to others as by the labels that bind and confine us, Ill try to just think of us all as the same. In some shape or form.

So thats it for me…I can safely say it was one of the best days Ive had, well, in as long as I can remember. I felt at home amongst a group of strangers. I laughed. I cried and I reminded myself that there is always space in the world for interesting ideas, even if other people dont understand yours straight away. Even if you dont necessarily understand them yourself.

Oh and if you’re not already Tedxsydney’d out watch this. As I sat near the back of the house with my tummy grumbling I can safely say Ive never been more excited to get out of my seat and see what had been created from this amazing grow-it-local endeavor.

Whats your favourite Ted Talk? (and yes its Ok to say Brene Brown x 1000)

One of the ways I get attention when Im pitching stories to editors is to link an idea to something thats time specific. A community event, an anniversary, a day set aside for some reason or another. It helps to match the idea with the words if the reader can circle a day in their calendar. That community calendar seems to be filling up. Days to wear yellow, pin pink ribbons, walk to school, ride to work, sleep upside down.

Ok, maybe not the last one.

Smack bang in the middle of the school holidays I found myself perched on top of a stool listening to some sobering facts about women and and health. We talked and ate and cooked and talked. All the ingredients for a good night out. Wine included.

The Heart Foundation  hosted a meetup with a gaggle of bloggers at Sydney Cooking school to talk about their Go Red for Women Campaign and Heart Week. The thing is I when I think about heart disease I think about old men with big bellies, I think of kids born with congenital heart defects and images of their worried parents; I don’t think about whats in between. It’s women. Heart disease is the number one killer of Australian women.

As I wriggled on my stool trying to digest those facts I listened to Dr Lyn Roberts National CEO of the Heart Foundation and a woman after my own heart. She finished her PhD and lived to tell the tale. She wasn’t talking about that to the group she was talking about the ways women can reduce their risk by taking simple steps to prioritise their bodies.

This year has seen a lot of women come through my counselling practice exploring life, their relationships and their emotional health. The pressure on your body in managing anxiety and stress is not only etched on their faces but from the inside too. I was watching a mum on instagram the other night, a mum who had seen a lot of grief over the last year, share images of her quick stay at her local hospital after having chest pains at work. As much as she felt like a bit of a goose for heading there the women that supported her online all pointed out that the action of putting her health first was something to be congratulated.

The pain of life can sometimes make you feel like your heart is broken. Double checking it, literally, is something we all need to think about.

So what did I learn? (other than how to cook a piece of chicken by rolling it in gladwrap, popping in some veggies and popping it in a simmering pot) I found out that the Heart foundation is urging women to:

- Learn more about reducing heart disease by visiting here

- Visit their GP for a Heart Health Check

- Know and understand the risks and signs of a heart attack

- Follow them on Facebook and just generally up-skill themselves about the fact that every two (2!!) hours in Australia a woman will die from a heart attack.

So in a sea of other days of community messages that sometimes get filtered out perhaps going Red for the Heart foundation is something that we might want to circle.

Not for one specific day but for always.
Have I been living under the stairs like Harry Potter? Did you know this statistic about women and heart health?

Each evening, now that daylight savings has finished, I find my little home humming with the routine that I’ve created for myself. As my small people finish their dinner –  sitting across from each other at the table – I take a walk from room to room drawing the curtains and turning on lamps. Its acknowledges that the day is ending, that there is warmth in our home and that we all feel safe and secure in here.

As I stumble out of bed each morning coffee is gratefully forced into my hands by my husband. I feed the children and do the same routine backwards; going from room to room opening the blinds and acclimatising to how bright or not the sun is.

I used to think that the routine of being in my home would be tedious and groundhog-like but its these moments I embrace the most. After a long time of living in chaos and muddle the sense of sameness keeps me calm, invites me to present and makes a bookend to the work I either have or haven’t achieved. There is always tomorrow.

In my counselling rooms Im constantly bombarded with people searching for ways to overcome hurdles, to manage their anxiety and to focus more getting through the tough times. In pouring over my resources in my dusty old bookcase looking for little gems that might help people feel more connected I can never go past the work of those in the ACT therapy field. Like me they see that wanting to be happy all the time is not possible, that in order to live a rich and meaningful life we need to take moments where the troughs are more significant than the peaks to ground ourselves in what we know to be true.

This is one exercise I constantly go back to – it might not use the same idea as turning my lights off and on but it forces you to stop, listen and keep going…

Im doing Mindful In May – feel free to register yourself. Its good for you and for the global community.

How do you keep yourself in the moment?

Four passports arrived by registered post last Thursday. All with bright new shiny non-smiling pictures and blank pages ready to be filled with new adventures. I found a safe spot to store my expired passport – the image of a smiling, lilac crushed-velvet wearing, slightly overweight 23 year old no longer greets customs officials when I step away from home. I seemed to take a while to grow in to my face. Thank God for turning 30.

Its been a few years since I travelled. The last big trip I did was with my girl and my ma for this. I acknowledged my mum in that report because no matter where we went, how little sleep we had, or what ghastly food we ate she always shoo’d me out the door to whatever meeting I had in whatever country we were in. She was the best international babysitter a new mum could have. 8 weeks and 4 countries with a 7 month old. I had clearly lost my brain in the delivery suite.

In preparing for the big trip to here I also needed to tie up the lose ends that get left behind while we are gone. My dog needs a new home for a bit and my blog needs some words. I did a callout to people asking who wanted to chat about their space in between while I was gone and I was overwhelmed by the people who said yes – a space between single parenthood, childhood illness, adoption, infertility, speaking up about grief, disability. You name the space and I think Im slowly starting to cover them.

One of my favourite movies is Finding Nemo and despite the mindfulness approach of Dory and the need to just keep swimming the other life lesson I draw from it is about stepping in to the slip stream. To reap the rewards of someone trailblazing ahead by falling behind to gather up all the goodness that comes from their endeavour. Some days I feel like Im swimming at the top of the pack and others. Well I feel like Im falling behind and looking on with wonder at what people achieve.

Lapping up all the richness that comes from an online community who are open to talking and sharing about the things I love most of all. Those damn spaces.

I dont earn a cent from this space but I get the sense that regardless of where my life goes, what happens to me, the lived experience of people who have shared here will always give me tips on ways that I can manage life and all its complexities.

Thanks for offering up your stories and letting us all step into your slip stream. Its a storytellers ultimate reward.

Do you merge into the slipstream or are you swimming up ahead?

I wrote for this site earlier in the week about the way the world is delivered to our lounge rooms despite only a few minutes of footage being sourced. It circles around while you listen to presenters grappling to find new ways to offer snippets of information.

Turning off and walking away is sometimes the only option.

Turning around and explaining it to your kids is harder.

That night I sat and watched a singing show on the tele with all of my babies lined up on the lounge. A beautiful girl sang a Birdy song that my stepdaughter plays on repeat in our home. Even my husband can sing along now. We are the Von Trapps without the curtains.

In the montage, cleverly pieced together, before she took to the stage we saw her tell the story of her life. All 17 years of it. She talked about sadness and bullying and separated parents and then we got to see her mother standing side of stage willing that girl on.

As she cried. I cried.

I’m a dag for that sort of thing.

The stories of divorce that often don’t get talked about are the ones where one party never saw it coming. Where they tried their hardest to make life work. To be a good partner, a good parent, a good provider, a good worker. Despite all of these unspoken attempts there is still space, when those children are grown, for their sad stories to frame who they have become. I often fast forward my life in my head and worry that my girl will be standing on a podium somewhere telling the story of her early years and how it left a mark on her soul despite the fact that I fought hard for that not to happen.

I wonder how you remove those swords from your heart when you see your kids struggle with things that slipped through your fingers. Taking the guilt for something you are not guilty for is useless but inevitable.

I choose to tell my kids about the trauma that happens in their lives and outside of their home. I tell them in the simplest and most honest way I can. Every time something new happens we are reminded about the profound challenges we have in protecting ourselves. Both to our heart and our bodies.

We played that Birdy song in the car the next morning driving out to visit my oldest friend in the world. I looked back in the rearview mirror and saw my 7 year old singing it with as much passion as that girl had on tele the night before. Just without the right pitch. She was staring out the window with such clarity that I knew that despite those little scars she’d be just fine and that I’ll keep telling her that for as long as she needs to hear it. From side of stage or otherwise.

Whats your take on world trauma discussion at the dinner table?

For more resources jump on over to the fab Raising Children Network for more information.

Im linking up with Grace over here for FYBF

I found myself yelling at the tele like I tend to do on Monday nights when Q&A pops on. I was angry last night about the focus of the all women panel. I was waiting for thoughts on child support non-payers, equal pay, promotional opportunities. What did we get? An argument about chivalry and an uncomfortable silence about whether or not little girls aspire to be sex workers.

I was still thinking it over this morning. I was still thinking about how a person gets to turn their inside opinion to the outside via the media and where they get the guts to do that. My dad ripped a story out of his magazine for me last month, it was waiting on his large dining room table when we stopped by for lunch the other weekend. He pointed at it and said he thought I’d enjoy it. Carrie Miller’s short piece was written in the way that so many pieces are at the moment, with a real life spin but a global voice. A sense that the writer is writing on behalf of nameless crowds when in actual fact that are only writing from their little corner of the universe.

It got me thinking about where is the space between opinion and truth? The way the media is geared at the moment if you have a strong personality, a media presence and availability then you are given the chance to talk. Qualifications aren’t necessary but a capacity to speak for the masses is valued. Who these masses are is another point entirely.

The piece by Carrie Miller in the Spectator spoke about the ban on children in some cafes and the ways in which this new need to speak out about the challenges of parenting (which Im quite sure isnt a new thing, its just a new platform of doing it) and that ‘since the rise of the parenting industry’ and the over-emphasis on the elusive work/life balance that parents have tweaked their behaviour to placing their kids first, that poorly behaved children are a product of parents who couldnt be bothered giving them attention.

Thats the problem with opinion pieces, they state a persons fact – either in paper, or on tele – and they dont give you a chance to truly reply. To say ‘um no I don’t think so’, to deny the fact that there is a rising parenting industry (what does that even mean??), that we can talk about what women want without women being given the chance to ask a question and reply or choose to remain silence. Some days I want the chance to have a 2-way chat. Or is that missing the point of social commentating entirely?

Whats your take on the opinionater? Love them or perplexed by them?

Image from here

Penguin Books, in their infinite wisdom, sent me a copy of Torre De Roche’s book to have a read of. I met her during NaNoWriMo last year and was a little bit excited to see that someone – who had a vision about finishing a book – actually did just that.

I adored Torre’s book and gobbled it up over a quiet weekend last month. I travelled around Australia in 2001 in a hideously unattractive 4WD van with a man and a dog. It was a long and complicated journey – I felt young and stupid for most of the time, I missed home, I missed food and I missed my bed. Torre’s book made me want to step back in time and shake that 22 year old girl and tell her to relax, have fun, talk to interesting people and not feel that the space between what she thought the trip would be like and what it was, was so vast.

I spoke to Torre about her book and here is what she told me….

Torre, what’s your book about in a nutshell?

Love with a Chance of Drowning is about how a chance encounter in a bar changed the course of my life when I met a soulful Latin man who had a boat and a dream of sailing the world.

As a city girl with a morbid fear of deep water (thanks to Jaws), I am not someone you would ordinarily find adrift in the middle of the ocean aboard a leaky sailboat – total crew of two – struggling to keep an old boat, a new relationship and my floundering sanity afloat. But love can make you do crazy things…

We spent two years at sea. This is our story.

I remember when I set off on my first long journey with a partner my aunty whispered – this will be the make or break of the two of you – did you feel a sense that people were willing the relationship on or anticipating it would be fail?

One friend warned me that Ivan might turn into Billy Zane from Dead Calm (i.e. a psychotic murder) and another friend said she would most certainly push her fiancé overboard if they were stuck on a boat together. It’s fair to say that most of people I told were not optimistic.

My family in Australia hadn’t met Ivan, so I think they were less concerned with the survival of the relationship and more concerned with the survival of their daughter.

There is so much pressure in the world at the moment to focus on being in the present, remaining mindful of our actions, living rich lives. Did being out on the ocean give you a way to practice living in the moment, have you been able to carry these skills on to dry land?

I wasn’t really thinking about being present at the time. But looking back, there are some clues that I was…

1. I learned to read the sky for weather. I was always aware of the cycles of the moon, the shape of the clouds and the nuances of the wind. I realise now that I learned to be present with nature.

2. We had one mirror aboard, and it was small and scratched. This had a positive effect on my self-esteem, and I stopped worrying about my hair, my skin, my clothes. When you live in a house, you end up seeing yourself in the mirror probably 5 to 10 times a day. The more you look in the mirror, the more you need to look in the mirror. On a boat, without mirrors in every room, I learned to be present with myself.

3. After I returned to land, I was shocked at how much people multitask their conversations with texting, phone calls and other distractions. For a while, I felt disappointed over the fact that I couldn’t get people to fully engage in conversation. After two years at sea, I had grown accustomed to deep connections with other sailors. Sailors are generous listeners because life is simple and there are few distractions. On land, we’re all spread thin by too many commitments and the constant static of worry, to-do’s, regrets and fears. In hindsight, I can see that I learned to be present with people.

After 4 years in a city, those skills have faded. I’ve mostly adapted to the ways of land: the limited attention span, the disconnect with nature, the worries, the obsession over appearances, achievements, etc. But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed by more time in the outdoors.

Writing a memoir about a snapshot in time allows your private to become public. How did you manage the telling of your story with the need to keep some things to yourself?

Memoirists can’t really afford to hold back. You’re inviting readers into your personal space, into what it’s like to be you. If the writer withholds, the reader will sense it and they’ll lose trust in their storyteller. It will start to sound contrived and self-aggrandizing, and then the reader/writer relationship will die.

If it’s important to the story, it has to go in, even if it makes you feel utterly exposed.

And lastly – will there be a sequel? Love with a chance of thriving perhaps? 

Love with a Chance of Thriving? More like Love with a Chance of Surviving. The adventures continue, but I’m not yet sure whether or not there will be a sequel.

Stay tuned!

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Thanks Torre – have a look here for details as to how you can get your own copy of her book. The Herald listed it as a great long weekend read – theres still time people!

So what about you – would you embark on a long journey with a new partner? Would you sink or swim?

There are often little spurts of activity on my blog FB page where I make a random comment and then I have a stack of responses from people wanting to express their opinion. The other week I was on a conference call with a student and some academics talking about a research project on siblings and bereavement I was juggling my son as he built a railway track and heard the following line ‘sibling relationships are not always explored but they are the longest relationship we’ll have in our lifetime’. Funny isn’t it that all we see on the front of magazines is ways to engage our partner better, tips to being a mindful parent, ways to care for our own parents as they age. But being a better brother or sister. Cant for the life of me remember when I saw that…

Morgan asked me to send her some questions about her space. The space where her brother and father once existed. Here are her thoughts…

Morgan, tell me a little about you?

I’m 27, married to the man of my dreams and I’m mama to a beautiful girl named Marli who is almost 5months old. I also have a fur child, Georgie the staffy (who is a spoilt brat!!) I’m a property manager by day (currently on maternity leave) and someday want to have my own business in helping others with their grief .

You said you felt compelled to tell your story about losing your brother and your dad, what happened to them?

In November 2004 at age 14 my only brother, Taylor, was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, bone cancer, after a pain in his knee. My brother was my dad’s apprentice mechanic and into everything so we just assumed he’d hurt himself on his latest bike/car/silly adventure, sadly it was not the case!

Fast forward almost a year of chemotherapy, surgery to remove the ‘Spanish dancer’ (cancer my brother had a wicked sense of humor!), sickness, bloods, platelets, tests, scans, hospitals he was in remission. Yes! He’s done it! We thought Goodbye cancer.

Lesson learnt. So we thought.

In early 2006, Taylor was struggling to breathe. A lot. He was chauffeured to the John hunter hospital in the ambulance only to be given some oxygen, to get his sats up then sent home. Then in June 2006 they had a solution. Taylor was suffering from cardiomyopathy. Heart failure.

How? Hadn’t he had enough?

So the big wigs at the JHH sent him to Sydney, via air ambulance this time, it was urgent as his heart was about to fail. The chemo had caused his heart to enlarge, and it wasn’t pumping, therefore causing organ failure. My brother was almost dead on his feet at 16 years old.

So into st Vincent’s in Sydney we go. Taylor had an LVAS put in, basically a battery powered rotary pump to pump his heart for him. He could breathe again! 3 months of hospital in Sydney and weekend trips for me to visit (I could still drive you to St Vincent’s hospital with my eyes closed!) in November 2006 he came home!

What a hero. He went back to work he got his learners and his bike license and went to TAFE every week, while having a thousand tablets a day, and a battery pack keeping him alive. Bending over cars all day, working in stinking heat, freezing cold, with a whip cracking boss (my dad lol)  All with a beautiful smile and cracking jokes the entire way!

They were the best two years of my life – hanging out, catching up, chatting, loving, being each others best friend. And then in July 2008. Taylor suffered a stroke.

What? No? How could this be?

Tay’s body was giving up on him. Back to the JHH. Everyone knew him by name. I knew it wouldn’t be long. He was an 18 year old stuck in the body of a 90 year old. The last words I said were ‘please eat some more chips, I love you!’

On the 28^th of August 2008 Taylor Chevy Benn passed away, aged 18 years.

That void can never be filled. We were supposed to grow up together, both my parents were struggling, but by this stage they had separated and dad was alone. I’d bought a house, got engage and was trying to live a decent life.

Suddenly in April 2009 Dad complained of a sore back. He was a mechanic for 30 years so always had a sore back so I didn’t think much of it, until I convinced him to go to my doctor.

Lung cancer. Wow.

His habit of 80 cigarettes a day had finally caught up with him. No chemo he said. I’m not having any of that shit my boy went through! So he deteriorated quickly, but we didn’t waste a second. lunch every weekend, motorbike rides, shopping, chatting & reminiscing together.

Then in July 2009 he went into palliative care.

Amazing. Beautiful place. I could take my fur baby to visit him, and didn’t he light up when the muscly brat jumped on his bed! Dad knew it wouldn’t be long. He said he was ready to see his boy. He left this world on the 6^th of October 2009 wearing a British green triumph t-shirt (his absolute favorite bike!)

Is there a big space between the before and the now – how are you learning to live with the new normal of a life without Taylor and your dad?

It will be 5 years since my brother died in August. Time has changed and I have changed. I married, moved house, and had a baby. I still long to tell them things every day. Share a sneaky joke, have dad build me my custom dining table I know he would have made perfectly with his bare hands, share the joy of my wedding day, my precious daughters laugh.

You never learn to live with it you just DO.

I hate it that they are gone. I’m pissed. But my happiness is from being grateful. I’m grateful I’m not a drunk, or a substance abuser, or crazy. I’m grateful for 18 years with my brother, I’m grateful for my fiery attitude from my dad, my daughter’s charismatic eyes that looks just like theirs.

What would you say to other people following a similar path to you, what has been helpful?

Look within yourself. People will come and go but you have to rely on you. Accept help, love, accept that you can be happy again and accept that just because they aren’t here doesn’t mean they can’t go on in your memories. How you remember it, not someone else.

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Thanks Morgan – working in the grief and bereavement world there are so many families living with multiple losses. Just as they get time to get their head around one loss – a divorce, a death, an illness – another wave comes crashing over them and there unsure which loss they are grieving at any one time.

How do you look within yourself when everything around you is up in the air?

I’m not someone who drags their heels very often but when I do it takes me a moment to work out what it is. Its like an internal cranky valve has been released and I cant see the light for a moment. Seven days of little sleep after my boy’s tonsils being ever so kindly removed have added up. I’m one big yawn.

I was driving to a talk this afternoon. On one of those Sydney Sunny Sundays full of good vibes, newspaper reading and coffee consuming. I was angry at myself for saying yes to talking about work on a day that I try not to. For not thinking ahead to what would be happening in our family and for not anticipating that I might need a bit of downtime. The radio was wedged to RN and I caught the last 15 minutes of a segment on Iraq, on what has happened for families post-Saddam. How despite the terror being removed, the lawlessness and crime had made them want for the before, not the after. A mum spoke about losing seven, seven, members of her family one Sunday afternoon on her way to the market. How for her the before was preferable because in the before she had her family. Now she was alone. The interpreter speaking over her pain could only tell me the words, her voice told me the feeling.

The talk I gave was on ways we can find our best selves. Our happiness. I pulled into the car-park and felt a dread, a real disconnect between this suburban location and the pain of others on the other side of the world. How privileged we were to be given the space to openly discuss the barriers to our happiness, to explore how to be more grateful, that there was even room for someone like me to stand up and talk about good mental health.

The thing is when I stepped through the door 60 smiling faces were open to hearing what I had to say, they shared the ways they sought happiness, through serving others, through spirituality, through their children, their elderly parents, through laughter. I touched a little on the pain of the families I’d met through my work but more so the moments, the opportunities for happiness, they had seen in the midst of all the crap they had endured. I talked about ways to live a rich, meaningful life and the nods in the audience made me feel like I was talking to the converted.

When I walked away, with a big box of chocolates and a nice card in hand (to thank me for venturing out on a Sunday), I didn’t feel bad about being grateful, about creating a space for other people to talk about it because even without the trauma we still need little reminders about the world thats around us.

The bad stories don’t always need to remind us what we have, the good stories can do that too.

Do you feel a bit self-indulgent being grateful some days?

Linking up with the lovely Maxabella #52weeksofgrateful