Happitude

A little while ago, MOH (My Other Half) and I were thrust into a difficult situation. It wasn't an insurmountable problem, but it was one that still resulted in the dreaded 'Double D' - Disappointment and Discontentment. We also witnessed people near and dear to our hearts go through some tough times. It was a little hard to remain cheerful during this time and I lamented about the injustice of it all.

In the midst of my despair (well it wasn't as bad as that but I was determined to wallow in self-pity so it had to be as dramatic as possible), I read a story in the Sunday paper about a woman called Marie-Therese. Marie Therese suffered from locked-in syndrome, a condition that leaves the sufferer unable to move any part of their body except their eyelids. For seventeen years Marie Therese lived with this terrible condition, which has been likened to being buried alive, and was only able to communicate with others by fluttering her eyelids. But despite this, she still managed to find enormous satisfaction with and contentment in her life. Before she passed away she blinked out a list, letter by letter, of 100 reasons why her life was worth living.

Needless to say, I was extremely humbled by this story of resilience and courage. I marveled at this woman's ability to have a ray of hope in what most would consider to be the darkest of times. I was also thoroughly ashamed of myself. Good grief, I certainly had nothing to complain about! To help me snap out of my pitiful state, I decided to start my own list of all the things, no matter how big or small, that bring a smile to my face and give me joy. So here it is, in no particular order:

HAPPINESS IS....  

1. Cuddling on the couch with MOH watching a Midsomer Murders, James Bond or Alfred Hitchcock movie.

2. Seeing MOH's face at the airport gate after a stint away for work.

3. Hanging out with our siblings - they really are a great bunch.

4. Our family members (the good, fun-loving ones in the family 'chocolate box', not the odd nuts).

5. Our friends - our other family.

6. Our wedding anniversary and wedding photos - nearly 10 years on and it is still the happiest day of my life, hands down.

7. Giving someone a gift that they love.

8. Traveling - I will never tire of exploring other countries and experiencing their unique cultures.

9. Shrieking with laughter with my girl friends over a funny story or a hilarious shared experience.

10. A great food experience whether it be a $12 plate of Chinese roast pork and rice from BBQ King or a meal that costs the earth from Quay.

11. A cup (or two) of rich, strong, dark coffee.

12. Chocolate in any form - like coffee, the richer, the stronger, the darker, the better.

13. Gelati - no less than three giant scoops.

14. Discovering a pair of shoes at the back of my closet that I had forgotten all about. In the words of Carrie Bradshaw: "I forgot I had you. Things are looking up!".

15. Re-reading one of my favourite books - it's just like coming back to an old friend.

16. Heels - critical for the vertically challenged such as me.

17. Satisfaction with work (whatever 'work' may be) - this has come to be my definition of professional success.

18. Long, newsy emails and pictures from family and friends scattered across the globe.

19. Having a good hair day.

20. The shot of endorphins after I've completed a spin class (yes, really) - I am strong, I am invincible, I am woman <insert roar>!

21. Entertaining others in our home.

22. Hawaii - when I win the lottery, I am buying a house there for MOH and I to retire in.

23. The grins, giggles and unexpected cuddles from my friends' children.

24. Fitting into a fabulous dress.

25. Accessories - they maketh the outfit.

26. A glorious, warm, sunny day with blue, blue skies.

27. Learning how to ride a bike, proving that you're never too old to learn something new.

28. My beautiful handbags - I love you all my precious ones.

29. Chanel Chance Eau Fraiche and Annick Goutal Gardenia Passion.

30. Getting dressed to the nines - give me any excuse!

31. Singing and dancing (albeit not very well) to my favourite songs.

32. Watching a musical theatre production - fuels my fantasy of being a Broadway star (see the previous item).

33. Writing.

34. Daydreaming - I'm either lazing around a tropical island or I'm a stylist and a published author who also moonlights as a singer (see the previous four items).

35. Nursing a cup of tea while reading celebrity gossip magazines (my guilty pleasure).

36. False eyelashes - if you don't have it, fake it!

37. A pedicure.

38. Lying on a deck chair in the sun with a good book (or pretending to read the book but really having a nap).

39. The wonder of seeing something (a place, piece of nature, monument, historic building or art work) that I've only ever heard or read about, in the flesh.

40. An act of kindness (giving or receiving).

41. When our nearest and dearest are happy themselves - it's simply infectious.

42. Mini-breaks or long holidays with MOH or with our friends - fun, fun, fun with a capital 'F'!

43. Weddings.

44. Christmas.

45. Being my sister-in-law's bridesmaid.

46. A love note or card from MOH.

47. The home MOH and I have created - where my heart truly is.

And saving the best for last....
48. MOH - the one who has my heart.

Well that's my Happiness List. At least that's it for now. As the years go by I look forward to adding more to it, and I hope to make it to 100 and beyond. As for those feelings of disappointment, discontentment and self-pity, they disappeared as quickly as a puff of smoke by the time I got to number 3 on my list.

What's on your Happiness List? Think it over and write it down. It'll be one of the best things you can do for you. In a world that can be too busy, a little crazy and sometimes be turned upside down, reminding ourselves of all the reasons of why life is great is nothing short of wonderful.

From me to you, have a very merry holiday season surrounded by everyone and everything that makes you happy!

A Career Conundrum

Picture this. Here is a professional woman who is confident in the fact that she has found what she is reasonably good at doing and actually enjoys doing it. She has always been committed to carving out a meaningful career so she works hard, thrives on the challenge, and is extremely passionate, dedicated and highly engaged. This woman is me. Or at least it was me. Lately this picture is looking more like this: still in a field that plays to my strengths and still enjoy the work, but there is a question mark hanging over the rest.

When MOH (My Other Half) injured himself and had to spend two months recuperating at home, I ended up taking time off to care for him. While he was still on the road to recovery I worked mostly from home and on a ‘casual’ basis. My daily routine looked like this: settle MOH, do some morning exercise, pick up coffee, make breakfast and do some work. During this time, I found my interest and motivation for my work dropping by the wayside (perhaps not surprising given the circumstances). 

One morning I was buying our coffees at our local cafe after a particularly relaxing swim and took a good look around for what felt like the first time. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping and there were people sitting around reading the paper or enjoying a leisurely breakfast. I realised that I was completely and utterly content. Over the last few months, I had unlimited and uninterrupted time with MOH. I was able to devote myself to beloved family and friends, and have a tremendous amount of fun. I was able to look after my health and fitness. I actually developed other interests and hobbies <insert gasp>. In short, I could nurture all the other dimensions in life that make it meaningful. I thought “I could get used to this”. Used to days where all I did was see MOH off to work, go for a swim, have coffee and write to my heart's content. The more I thought about it, the more excited I got at the prospect. Armed with coffee, I marched off home with absolute confidence. Why can’t I do something like this? Of course I can do something like this! We (MOH and I) can do something like this! 


By the time I got home and downed my coffee, I had sobered up. Cue in the reality check. No I can’t, we can’t, do something like this. The reality is MOH and I have gotten used to a certain lifestyle, and being an unpaid and unsuccessful writer is not going to cut it. Besides I couldn't really give up work. It's not just about financial security, it’s also about the obligations and commitments that I have made that need to be fulfilled for a little while longer. Not to mention the fact that work has been a part of me for such a long time. 

A little bit of panic began to set in. When did work become 'just work'? I used to care so much more. Don't get me wrong. I don't aspire to have a life built around watching 'Dr.Phil' and 'The Bold and The Beautiful' all day, every day. A week or two of indulging in daytime TV, lying on the lounge eating Lindt balls and getting my hair done would be fantastic but any longer than that would drive me mad. I know that I would have to do something, and that something would need to be meaningful and give me a sense of purpose. I used to believe that something was my job. 

What would happen if I just cut out ‘professional’ and ‘career’ from my life? What would I do? Who would I be? Surely the world would cave in as I've disturbed the natural order of things. So if I couldn't (or really wouldn't) give up work, is feeling like this just a passing phase? Could it be that I have lost my 'edge' and my ‘hunger’ for it? What if I never get these back? And why do I feel so incredibly guilty and ashamed about even thinking this way? Stepping off this well worn path, even just considering doing it, feels like I've betrayed myself and others. As ridiculous as this sounds, I worry about failing to live up to expectations - my family's, my friends', my colleagues', but mostly my own impossibly high ones. 

I know other people have gone through this type of thing but it's never happened to me till now. One can argue it's because I've been 'offline' for a good period of time so it's clouded my thinking and dulled my senses so to speak. But deep down, I can't help wondering if there is substance to these feelings and I am daunted by that thought.

Work and my career. They’ve always been such an integral part of who I am and how I've defined myself. They’ve given me enormous professional and personal satisfaction (and still do in many ways). They’ve brought so many opportunities and opened so many doors I never thought possible. They’ve been my safety net and meant financial security. I can't give all that up on what might be just a whim. I'm not the type nor am I ready. The test will be when I return to work on a full-time basis and am thrown right back into the thick of things. Time will tell if I swim with the tide or against it. I'm actually not sure which way I'm rooting for. For someone who likes to plan and be well-organised, that's most disconcerting.

For now, I've opted to make like an ostrich i.e. stick my head in the sand and only poke it out if/when I really have to. It may not be the wisest and most prudent thing to do, but it's all I can manage without my head imploding from analysing the situation to the nth degree (something I can do quite well).  As we approach 2012, perhaps one of my new year’s resolutions should be to confront difficult situations head on (no pun intended). But the new year is months away, and I don’t have to commit to anything....yet.

Who else has come face-to-face with this conundrum (there's comfort in the notion of 'safety in numbers')? If you have, what happened? What do you do when you wake up one morning entertaining the idea of suddenly 'changing horses in mid-stream'? And realise that there is a definite possibility that you could happily never work (in the traditional, corporate, 'nine-to-five' type job) ever again? Not because you're having a bad day/week/month, but because you simply do not want to anymore.

Acknowledgments: My thanks to V, one of my Precious Gems*, for her feedback on this piece, and for her repeated assurances that going through this kind of conundrum is completely and utterly normal!

* See "What's in a Friend?" located in Blog Archive / 2011 / September.

My Body, My Jeans, My Shoes and Me

MY BODY

When pop star, Christina Aguilera, sang "I am beautiful no matter what they say" she really should have said "I am beautiful no matter what I say". I've come to realise that I am my harshest critic. Like most women, I have a love-hate relationship with my body. As I got older, my metabolism changed and my body shape morphed into something that was far from what it was in my younger years. It became harder and harder to like my body, let alone love it. I cursed the fact that I wasn't one of those genetically blessed people who have a metabolism that rivals the speed of light. My butt and thighs, my perennial problem children, have inherited their stubbornness from me. No matter what I do, they are steadfastly determined to do what they like, which unfortunately is the complete opposite of what I want them to do. 

Now I realise that I am not grossly overweight. I honestly do not aspire to have the proportions of a supermodel. I just want to fit into my clothes. Not just the 'fat clothes' (those reserved for the not-so-good times), but also the 'skinny clothes' (those normally worn at the best of times). Buying new clothes is not an option for me as I am quite attached to what I have now. Besides, MOH (My Other Half) would keel over (at best) or possibly have a heart attack (at worst).

All this talk of clothes brings me to my jeans.

MY JEANS

I have had this pair of blue jeans for over 10 years. They were my absolute favourite. They're a nice cut and colour, but there is nothing remarkable about these jeans except for the fact that they represent a time that I consider to be my body's 'golden years' (not just in looks but in my fitness level). I have kept these jeans, not out of sentimentality, but because I've had this secret hope that one day they will magically fit again without me having to stop breathing in case the button pops when I exhale.

This kind of thinking, which some might call 'hopeful' (the optimists) and others 'misguided' (the pessimists or perhaps the realists), is partly the reason why I have too many shoes. I say 'partly' because I would still adore shoes even if I was a size zero.

MY SHOES

I have a lot of shoes. A LOT. Ballet flats, sneakers, sandals, wedges, heels and boots - I have them all and then some. Name any colour and I'm sure I have a shoe to match. I hate to say it, but Imelda Marcos was simply living every woman's dream with her 1,000 pairs of shoes. Pity she did it by robbing her country blind. But that's another story.

Suffice to say I love my shoes - every single last one of them. I love them because they are pretty and feminine. I love them because they make me tall (I'm one of the vertically challenged). I love them because they complete an outfit and so, they complete me. But one of the main reasons I love them is because no matter what happens with my body, my feet have always stayed the same size and shape. Hence, I can decorate them at will i.e. buy lots of new shoes with no repercussions (well except on the wallet and on MOH's ever shrinking closet space). 


ME

So where does this all leave me? Rest assured I am well aware of how ludicrous it is to expect my body to be the same as it was all those years ago, to keep  a pair of 10 year old jeans and to continue to buy shoes to soothe my wounded pride. The tipping point was when MOH and I decided to start trying for a baby. Suddenly I became conscious of taking care of my body, not just for how it looks, but to ensure it was as healthy as it could be so I had the very best chance of conceiving and having a good pregnancy. 

Now I'm not saying that I have reached complete acceptance. However, let's just say that my body and I have reached an understanding. I am learning to let go, giving away clothes that no longer fit me (both the 'fat' and 'skinny' clothes), stopped buying countless pairs of shoes (well maybe one or two still sneak in from time to time) and have bought several new pairs of jeans. I am learning  to form new conventions, exercising and eating for health and fitness not just because I want to look good. I am learning to be kinder to myself, praising my body for what it is capable of and accentuating it's good points. And all this is simply liberating. 

But most importantly, I know that I am no longer the same woman that I was all those years ago not just physically, but mentally and emotionally, and I am glad. One must grow and change (hopefully for the better). That is how it is meant to be.

As for those old jeans, I have to admit that they're still tucked away in the back corner of my closet. Give me more time and I will be able to let them go. In the meantime, what's wrong with having good memories? :) Oh and I still love my shoes - all of them. That's one thing that will never change.

What's in a Friend?

How do you define a friend? Is it someone you speak to on the phone everyday? Is it someone you have an occasional drink with? Is it someone you do lunch with? Is it someone you email regularly? Is it a Facebook friend? Is it someone you call on when you're in a bind? Is it someone you share a laugh with? Is it someone you cry with? Is it someone you laugh and cry with? Does a friend have to be all these things or can they still be a friend if they're only some of them?

However you chose to define a friend one thing is for sure, there's a whole spectrum out there. As we go through life we 'collect' many different types of friends. Below are some types that I came up with. Some good, some not-so-good, but all have their time and place in our lives.

The Friend Collection

THE CASSETTE TAPES

The sentimental favourites. Great all those years ago, but it was time to let them go. When you listen to them you're filled with nostalgia and good memories.

THE EX'S MIXED TAPE/CD/iPOD (depending on how old you are)

They were also great at the time and you definitely needed to let them go. When you listen to them you're filled with bitterness and regret.

THE BLANK COMPUTER SCREENS

The ones who take all your input, i.e. time and effort, but give absolutely nothing back in return. Then they are actually surprised when you no longer want to play with them and are looking to upgrade to a better model.

THE AMOEBAS

The single-cell organisms aka the ones who don't really have room for anyone else in their life but themselves. When you are together, they're never fully 'present'. And if you do manage to grab their attention, unless it has something to do with them, they don't really seem that interested.

THE BLACK JELLY BEANS

The ones that are a combination of all the not-so-good types. They turn up with all the other 'lollies' in the packet so you keep trying to give them a go, but they keep leaving a bad taste in your mouth and you wonder why you bothered in the first place.

THE FOREIGN EXCHANGE STUDENTS

The ones with whom you share only a few phrases of the same language. You can engage about certain things, but not about others. It's not necessarily a bad thing as you can get by quite comfortably with what you both know.

THE CUBIC ZIRCONIAS

The ones who look good on the surface and that's where everything stays - on the surface. No more, no less and that's actually okay. They're the ones you don't have any expectations of. You're happy when they're there but you don't worry too much when they're not. They're good in the moment and may or may not last.

THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL FINDS

The ones you rediscover after many years. They spark your interest and you realise that you still share a common bond. They're the ones you start putting back together, piece by piece, so you get to understand their world and be a part of it again.

THE HAPPY ACCIDENTS

Those you find when you're not looking. You stumble into them when you least expect it and they turn out to be blessings in disguise. They're the ones who bring something new and wonderful into your life, and unexpectedly change it for the better.

THE PRECIOUS GEMS

The keepers. You only need a few of them to make you feel rich. They're the ones who are your shining lights. The ones who just "get" you and accept you for who you are. The ones you sometimes take for granted and drop on the floor, but they still bounce back intact. The ones who appreciate in value and stand the test of time. The ones you keep safe in your hearts and who you never want to lose.

Recognise anyone? Recognise you? Throughout the years, each of us and our friends can move between these types. Whether we like it or not, we have been or are someone's Cassette, Mixed Tape/CD/iPod, Blank Computer Screen, Amoeba, Black Jelly Bean, Foreign Exchange Student, Archaeological Find, Happy Accident, or (if we're really lucky) Precious Gem. 

When we were young we always thought that our best friends would be forever. Over time, we realise that this is not always the case. Like everything else in life, our friendships change and really, they have to because we do. As we get older, our lives become filled with other priorities - partner, children, work, home, extended family - making our ability to maintain our friendships more challenging. But we need to make sure we look after the friends we've got because as someone once said, "friends give a rich texture to our lives that differs from our partner, children or colleagues."

Friendships, like anything worthwhile in life, do mean responsibility (albeit a pleasant one) and do take work (though not the tedious kind). You can't opt in and out when it suits you, and expect everything to remain the same - you need to be in it to win it (unless of course you're gunning to be one of the not-so-good types). However the rewards - joy, fun, laughter, support and love - are priceless. 

So come to accept your Foreign Exchange Students, enjoy your Cubic Zirconias for what they are, take the time with your Archaeological Finds, nurture your Happy Accidents and treasure your Precious Gems. I'll leave you to decide what to do with the rest!

In our world, our good friends are like family. So to all our friends out there, this one's for you. We're very lucky to have you in our lives. Thanks for everything.

Acknowledgments: I would like to thank MOH (My Other Half) for his contribution. Without him the titles of Cassette Tape, Mixed Tape/CD/iPOD, Foreign Exchange Student and Cubic Zirconia may have never come into fruition. 

The Art of Turning a UFE to a FE (Part 1)

Definitions:
UFE = Unfertilised Egg
FE = Fertilised Egg

Baby making is an art form. It follows a well established structure and pattern in shaping the artistic work (aka baby). It must be carefully stage managed, played out in the right environment, with all those in key roles present and accounted for to ensure it is a hit (so to speak). In short, it requires an awful lot of stars to be aligned in order to be a success. Unfortunately for my husband and I, aligning those stars is proving to be much harder than we first thought.

Our artistic journey (turning our UFE to a FE) began when we decided that after eight years of marriage (cue in the drum roll) we were finally ready, willing and able to start a family. This was a momentous occasion not just for us, as we were living a very comfortable and enjoyable life as DINKS (Double Income, No Kids), but for our myriad of family and friends who had ‘given up’ and assumed it would never happen. It was a time filled with mixed emotions:

• Excitement – This will be a new adventure with a new little person of our very own. 
• Relief (for me and my husband) – The maternal instinct finally hit. 
• Fear – Good god how am I going to get through the birth, which surely must be one of the most horrendous experiences a woman can go through. Note I am one of those people who believe the actual miracle is the creation of the life itself. The process of bringing the life into this world is not – it’s just a means to an end. If that was the miracle why are women’s bodies biologically programmed to ‘forget’ the experience?
• Uncertainty – If we switch to one income, will we be in a good financial position to support a child and maintain our lifestyle? What happens to my career? What happens to us and our relationship? How will I cope with the changes to my body after (hint - not well at all)? How much will our lives really change and will we be able to accept these changes?  But more on all this other stuff later.

So it was decided. We were going to take the plunge and do this. Surely it will be easy? We may not be up to speed on the whole process (got the basics down pat, but don’t ask us about cycles) but hey, men and women have been doing this since the dawn of time.  Even sixteen-year olds are managing it (albeit not intentionally). If my husband and I both turn up, it’ll just ‘happen’ right? We’ll have it done and dusted in no time.

Armed with this laissez-faire attitude and approach it would be fair to say that we didn’t take the whole process very seriously in the first three months. We didn’t really do anything differently because it was ‘just going happen’. It was fun, but not terribly productive.

At six months, we still weren’t worried. After all, we both knew it could take up to twelve months to conceive. During this time, things got serious. I started charting my cycle. I popped pills (folate and Omega 3 tablets every day). I made a commitment to myself to keep up some form of regular exercise. We had long discussions on how we wanted to care for our child, about the steps we wanted to put in place to ‘protect’ our relationship, about baby names, about who we wanted as godparents. I decided that I would see a nutritionist and a personal trainer while I was pregnant to keep my mind and body in check. I agonised over how I would maintain my career. I read articles on parenting and motherhood. I swapped stories with friends who have had children to get the inside ‘scoop’. I purchased books on pregnancy and babies. I even purchased some clothes and toys (I couldn’t resist) in preparation for the little one who was surely going to come soon.

We hit the nine month mark and still nothing. The frustration and disappointment began to set in. I mean we had names and even godparents picked out for goodness sakes! For most of my life, I had always operated on the principle that once you set a goal, you systematically put everything in place in order to achieve it. And really, hadn’t we done that? Sure, there were occasions in the last few months when I was travelling for work in the most inopportune times (I decided that telling work colleagues and clients that I was unable to travel as I was in my fertile period wasn’t really appropriate). All things considered, we didn’t do too badly. We went to the doctor to check in and see if we should start to be concerned. She reiterated that it could take up to twelve months to conceive (phew). But (yes, there was a ‘but’), she went through possible next steps in case there was a problem and also advised that we needed to think about these next steps sooner rather later as I am two years shy of thirty-five. 

Oh yeah, did I mention that as a woman your body apparently becomes a wasteland after thirty-five? I’ve had no shortage of well-meaning people giving me that look and saying “Well, don’t wait any longer, because you know, once you’re thirty-five...” Once I’m thirty-five what? My eggs fry up? A sign saying "No longer open for business" appears? My tubes magically tie themselves? I know it gets harder to conceive and that pregnancies carry more risks after this ‘magical’ year, but geez. What are these people hoping to accomplish by giving me this prognosis of doom and gloom? Is it meant to frighten my UFEs and I into submission? And what about all these celebrities and other ‘real’ people popping out children after forty? Answer me that! But I digress.... The upshot was that following the visit to the doctor, my husband and I decided we’d give it another go on our own for a while longer. This time we would be very diligent and disciplined about it. Besides, the doctor did say we should just start to think about the next steps.

Now it’s getting close to twelve months since we started our artistic journey and there is still no FE – just a bunch of UFEs (no offense, UFEs). There was one time we thought we had a FE because I was extremely tired, practically lived in the toilet and I was late (I mean really late). As it turned out, I was tired because I had worked eight, twelve-hour days straight. I also happened to be drinking an inordinate amount of water and tea (hence, the frequent trips to the toilet). Finally, it was simply one of those months where I was just late. Disappointing to say the least. I decided more action was needed so I went out and bought an ovulation tester. Every little bit helps right? I thought that month would be our month. I mean, how could we miss? We had everything!

How do we feel today? We’re still experiencing some of the same emotions, but with a different focus:

• Excitement – Still there but now tightly contained.
• Relief – At least my husband and I have each other.
• Fear – What if there really is a serious problem and we can’t have a child?
• Uncertainty – What have we done wrong? More importantly, what have I done wrong?  I’m a woman and by default, these things are "supposed" to come naturally to me. Surely I should have have known better?

     Oh, and there are two more added into the mix: 

• Regret – Why, oh why, were we so indifferent about the whole process in the beginning? What on earth made us think we would be the exception to the rule? What a waste of six months or as I would say to a client – an absolute non value-add.
• Guilt – We have so many family and friends who have had difficulties conceiving and our situation is nothing compared to what they have gone through. Really, we are in no position to complain. But we can’t help ourselves. The frustration, disappointment and whiff of fear remain.

My husband remains positive. He’s ready to take the next steps our doctor spoke about if need be. I am immobilised by my frustration about the fact that I cannot, no matter what I do, seem to easily ‘pick up’ this art form (in case you haven’t realised, I’m a bit of a perfectionist). I also cling to the belief (rightly or wrongly) that if I just do one more thing, our stars will align and our UFE will finally turn into a FE (clearly I’m also stubborn).

So that’s the story so far. I wish I could wrap it up in a nice, little package but I can’t. Believe me, if I could wrap everything up in a neat, shiny little package with a pretty bow and matching gift paper, I would. For now, I’ll end with this: to be continued.....