Is Anybody Out There?

I am addicted to Body Combat. Seriously addicted. I didn’t think it was possible for me to become so attached to something that didn’t contain chocolate or alcohol. But, apparently it is. I attended my first Body Combat class on a bit of whim. Last February, I’d just started working out at my local gym, and I was feeling uninspired by the thought of countless hours on the elliptical trainer or the solitary (and repetitive) task of lifting weights. One morning, I noticed a line-up for an exercise class and within the the group of attendees, I found a familiar face. I inquired as to what the class was about, and decided to give it a go.

Now, I do everything I can to make it to two Body Combat classes a week-typically Monday and Friday mornings. The class is led by a extraordinarily fit and dynamic South African woman. Gill brings 110% energy, strength, and enthusiasm to all of her classes. It is impossible to spend an hour with her and not leave with a smile on your face. Which means that the class is full of hard-working, happy people who are doing something positive for their health AND having fun while doing it. 

This morning, Gill was physically exhausted when she arrived at class, explaining that she had run to get to the gym on time, and that she had already taught six Body Combat classes this week. But, as usual, she pulled out her fantastic attitude and everyone responded to her motivating energy. About halfway through the workout, she said to us, “if anyone ever needs someone to stay until the end of the fight, pick me”. 

I’m not sure you’d need to pick her. She strikes me as the type of person who would just “have your back”. I know she’s had my back for the past six months, although she probably doesn’t know that. My Body Combat time is my “me time”. It’s my stress-relief. It’s become my way of coping with vast amounts of uncertainty that happens when you move across the world without an “end plan” in mind. And, it’s become a place where I can experience the feeling of belonging to an empowering community of women who “kick butt”. At least twice a week, I get one hour to kick, punch, and battle my way through my fears, frustration, and loneliness that occasionally sneaks up on me in the many hours that I spend alone while my family pursues their work and school commitments. But, Gill’s comment led me to reflect a lot about community support--about the people who will stay until the end of your fight. All you need to do is ask them to be there.

My Facebook friends know about my most recent brush with vulnerability. Three weeks ago, Stacey went to Adelaide for a corporate conference. In the Murphy’s Law tradition, twenty-four hours after he left, I was struck down by a gastrointestinal virus that left me immobile and useless. I was not able to drive to the school and pick up my kids. I was unable to cook dinner for them or get them ready for bed. It was a terrifying feeling, and my initial instinct was to feel alone and helpless and afraid. And then I remembered that I wasn’t alone. I have friends who have my back and all I needed to do is ask for help. As it turns out (not fully understood by me until recently), I have created an entire new community of support. Friends picked up my kids from school, brought electrolyte drinks, baked for an upcoming bake sale, and offered deliveries of dinner and childcare. People I didn’t even know were quick to offer assistance, like the school secretary who left her desk and walked across the school campus to hand-deliver a note to Ben’s teacher. And my Julia (nine years old with the soul of an eighty year old) fed her brother and put him to bed. Then she poured me a bath, brought me hot tea, and set her alarm for 6 am so she could check on my well-being the following morning. The gift of this challenging time was the reminder that there are always people who “watch our backs”: who are there for us and willing to help, even when we think we are on our own and unsupported.

As life goes, I think so many of us feel like we are alone in our pain, our fears, and our challenges. When I worked as a counsellor, I noticed a common theme in the stories of my clients seeking support. They often reported feeling like others didn’t care or understand whatever adversity they were currently facing. And, in our busy, over-committed, isolated modern world, it is easy to understand why we feel that way. I know I’ve wondered many times if there was anybody out there: someone who would listen to my pain and provide some support. The thing is that if you ask, there is almost always someone there. Whether that someone is a friend, a family member, a stranger, your God, or your inner spirit . . . there is someone there who will stay till the end of your fight.

At the end of the Body Combat class, we take a few moments to stretch. The stretching routine is choreographed to some groovy but inspirational song, that leaves me feeling just the right balance of positive energy moderated with some quiet reflection. Today, we stretched to “Is Anybody Out There?” performed by K’Naan and the lovely Canadian singer/songwriter-Ms. Nelly Furtado (link to music video below). Isn’t it uncanny how everything in the universe seems to connect when you are paying attention? As I stretched and listened to the lyrics (“I don’t wanna be left in this war tonight, am I alone in this fight?”), I thought, “I need to blog about this”. 

We are not alone, there is always someone out there who will stay in our fight till the end. 

Thanks for the Body Combat therapy Gill. :)

 "Is Anybody Out There?" : Music video by K'Naan and Nelly Furtado

One Year Here

It’s official! We’ve lived in Australia for an entire year. One year ago today, we were unpacking our suitcases into our temporary apartment on Turbot Street in downtown Brisbane. And we were wondering. We were wondering: where we were going to live; if we’d make friends as good as the ones we’d left in Canada; where the kids would go to school; if we’d successfully learn to drive on the other side of the road; where to buy a car & a washing machine & a fridge & a coffee pot.  The “to do” list was endless and overwhelming. I will never forget my first morning in Brisbane, settling down into the black leather coach in our temporary living room, with a cup of instant Nescafe (that’s all we had in the house) and seriously wondering what the hell we had just done.

Our first "home" in Brisbane. Taken exactly one year ago.

I know I’ve spent the better part of a year processing this transition. So often, I am asked if I like it here or how it compares to Canada. Sometimes people suggest that the move must have been easy since Australia is “so much like Canada”. Other times, people question our judgment for moving so far away from family and friends.

So, I am guessing, on the first anniversary of this life-changing experience, some of you might be wondering if I think moving our family to Australia was the “right” thing to do. And for the past two weeks, I’ve been soul searching for the “right” answer, the perfect combination of brilliance, insight, emotion, and humility. An answer that really illustrates the impact of uprooting all that you’ve known to try a life that you haven’t experienced before. Those of you who know me well (and love me anyway) understand that I like to wrap things up in neat little packages: fully processed nuggets that succinctly articulate all that I think and feel.

And I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t wrap this one up neatly. I’m still processing the experience and qualitatively trying to figure out where it fits in the continuum of what I believe to be my "good" life choices. One hesitation in labeling our past year’s journey as “good” or “bad” is that I suspect such labeling will trivialize the breadth and depth of all that we’ve learned and encountered in the past 365 days.

All I can say for sure is that making a change of this magnitude requires conviction. Not conviction that you are doing the “right” thing. Conviction that you want to take a risk and by risking, you will feel more alive. Call it a sense of adventure, or itchy feet, or the desire to learn and grow. Call it what you will, but I personally believe with all my heart that taking chances and living within the emotional upheaval that change creates are where I feel most alive. It is the place that Brene Brown has called “Daring Greatly”. I think I connect with Brene's work because her conception of vulnerability resonates so deeply with the values that I carry in my soul. I know, unfortunately from personal experience, that we don’t always have 80 years to experience our lives. We might not get to wait until retirement to finally do something “outside of the box”, to move beyond that often-constraining and occasionally soul-crushing “to do list” that we might think responsible, mature adults must maintain as their sole and driving focus.

So, I carry a deep sense of gratitude and appreciation for this opportunity. And a real sense of respect and love for my husband, who put himself on the line to give our family this gift. I recognize how brave he was to apply for the job at Santos, without regard to whether he was “qualified enough” or if “he could really move to Australia”. Stacey lives his life with great confidence and comfort in his skin. He has an incredible work ethic, and a high level of intelligence that helps him to quickly understand processes and human motivations. He is also a person with a high degree of ethical and moral integrity, best exemplified in his behaviour as a parent. He has always understood that his children are his children and thus, their care is as much his responsibility as it is mine. He has never turned a blind eye to their needs or their development as people. He is thoughtful and introspective, and almost always aware of the impact of his actions and words on others. It is through his example that I believe I have finally learned the power of living fearlessly, asking for what you want, and not settling for less because someone doesn’t believe it is the right thing for you. For those of you who don’t know, Stacey and I started dating in our first year of university. September 14th is the day that we met, and we’ve in essence been together ever since. There is no way to really describe the ups and downs of a 23-year relationship that started when we were in our late teens and continues after 7 years of dating, 16 years of marriage, 2 children, career changes, the deaths of 4 of our grandparents as well as my mother, an overseas move, and many other less dramatic but equally as impactful daily stresses and strains of life. We haven’t had a perfect marriage nor do I think we have even tried to have one, knowing the futility of such a goal. But, our life in this new world “Down Under” has recharged my sense of who we are as a couple and what we are capable of as people, professionals, and most importantly, as parents.

Happy boys on Stradbroke Island for our Christmas break

Swimming in the waterfalls at Mount Tambourine

Julia and Stacey both love to play in the ocean 

There have been no real surprises in the ways in which my children have risen to the challenge of this move. In a certain sense, they are "chips off the old blocks" and love the experience of adventure. My little adrenalin junkies! But, also, I believe that they took cues from our attitudes, values, and beliefs about the privileged opportunity we were being offered, and the strengths that our family possesses that would allow us to be successful in our new home. Julia was 8 1/2 when we moved here and she had to say goodbye to “her Nora”: a very close friend who she has loved since she was 3 years old. That was perhaps the hardest part of leaving Calgary for her, and thus, one of the toughest “goodbyes” for me, as her mum. Watching her heart break in that way, and co-living with her residual grief that is still with her today . . . that has been both painful and humbling for me. 

Nora & Julia - spent our "last night" in Canada together in our hotel

Only nine months later--together again and still "BFF's"

But Julia has received many gifts from her father, including his ability to draw on inner strength in times of emotional upheaval. And she has found her way here in Australia, making new friends, finding a new piano teacher and resuming her lessons, essentially ‘skipping grade three’ yet achieving good academic results in grade 4. She has learned to swim like a fish and speak the Aussie lingo. She has found a new Girl Guide group and made another great friend in a co-Brownie, Miss Nicola. Like her mother, Julia continues to try and find ways to process what has happened to her, and often speaks of how she’s changed and grown, as well as what she likes and doesn’t like about Aussie culture, and the people and things that she misses in her Canadian homeland. 

Julia's good friend, Nicola--her ray of sunshine in Oz :)

My Benny was only 4 1/2 when we moved and thus, I think his transition has taken a much different path. Because of his developmental stage, he didn’t leave Canada with the same friendship/school history as Julia. He was in more of a position to start fresh without feeling disloyal in doing so. He is 3/4 of the way through his first year of school (it’s called Prep), and I shake my head in disbelief when I realize that he will be starting Grade One in January. Ben has just now reached an age where friends are becoming more important, and his preferences are developing for activities and places. He is beginning to vocalise what he thinks about life here in Australia and what is important to him. And it is with a little bit of sadness that I have to recognize that his memories of living in Canada, of being Canadian, are not as entrenched as they are/were with Julia. He uses Aussie lingo, and he is starting to pronounce words with more of an Aussie accent. I think he is pleased as punch that his birthday falls on National Australia Day (Jan 26), as he seems to believe it is some kind of omen that he was meant to live in this country. Of course, I am committed to reminding him of who he is and where he came from and I do it often. And so (perhaps to please me?), he speaks abstractly of his mother country. But his memory of his early childhood will be memories of Australia, while Julia’s are memories of Canada. It will be so interesting to see how this shapes them both as teenagers and adults, particularly if we decide to return to Canada to live at some point in the future.

Celebrating Ben's fifth birthday on National Australia Day (he'll always have the day off school for his birthday)

Ben has a love affair with kangaroos

Since we really "settled" in Australia (in February--after we finally moved into our current house), I often find myself shaking my head in disbelief with respect to the life that we live in Brisbane. We rent a gorgeous home, right on the beautiful Brisbane river. We have made some good friends--people who have “been there” for us during this tumultuous year. We have sufficient financial resources to explore Australia. It perhaps seems enviable and annoying to those who watch us on Facebook from afar and wonder if we actually work or experience hardship in this new life of ours. Of course, it is not always obvious on Facebook that we do many things in relative isolation. That we live 12 000 km from people who have been our support and our family for the past 40 years. And that although we chose to move, it doesn’t mean that we didn’t make that choice with grief and regret about all that we would be giving up.

Our first family trip to the koala sanctuary--one week after moving here (we still look a bit shell-shocked)

Backyard bliss

Some of those amazing Canadian friends that we miss every day!

Noosa beach at Easter

We miss our Grandpa John and Nana xoxo

For some time now, it’s been my plan to write a blog about our overseas experience. As I’m prone to do, I’ve made many excuses about why I haven’t done it yet, but a few weeks back, I decided that today would be the day I would start my blog, so here it is. I know I use Facebook to write about a lot of things that happen to us, but Facebook has it’s limitations. I am keen to try a new forum for expressing myself, journalling our experiences, and reaching out to those who care about us, and wish to know what we are up to. I welcome your feedback and support about our adventures.

With much love from the land down under,

Kathleen