All posts tagged: privilege

It’s official: I’ve made the Tree Change… and wow, just in time!

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Yes, it’s happened and I’m excited, as well as still a bit anxious of course. Moving house is never an easy task, and creating a whole new sense of ‘home’ does push my insecurity buttons. But honestly, it feels like it’s been as easy as possible. In fact, I must admit it seems as though the Universe has almost fallen over itself to make this flow beautifully. My one last major concern was what to do with my current home, as I couldn’t afford to sell it quite yet. Who to rent it to? Could I handle really ‘letting go’ of a home base my boy and I had had since 2005? And then my gorgeous, cheeky, smart-as-a-whip son ‘19.5’ rested his arm around my shoulders and said: ‘I’ve been waiting years for you to move out Mum: let me move back in and rent it from you.’ P E R F E C T Like, so totally PERFECT I couldn’t stop grinning. But I had to be cool. ‘Sweetie, that’s a lovely offer, but …

Saying yes to a surprising adventure with my teenage son after final exams

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By the time you’re reading this, we’ll be at the airport. By ‘we’, I mean teenage son and I; he towering above me, and thus carrying 2 extra kilos for me in his backpack. Where are we going you wonder? Well I can’t quite believe my surf-addicted ’18’ has agreed to this, but he did, so we’re off to trek in Nepal! Remember the stressful exams and dessert-eating he’s we’ve just been through? All the weeks days hours of study he we sat through to get this burden of his our school life finished  forever? Somehow we clawed our way across the challenge, and now a new chapter awaits. But first, a little thing called ‘Schoolies’ here in Australia has to happen. We live near the Gold Coast/Surfer’s Paradise, where approximately 22,000 teenagers descend for a week of festivities and alcohol-fuelled celebrations, renting out every hotel, motel, Airbnb, and dodgy villa they can find, determined to party relentlessly along the 3-kilometre beach strip. *Shudders Some parents send their young adults to Bali, or Thailand as …

Osteopath: ‘You’re all locked up, & we need to shift it.’ Me: ‘OK…’ *gulps

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I’ve been back from England for 10 days now (16,886 kms away from home in Australia), and my valiant struggles with the dreaded jetlag are finally paying off. Last night I did open my eyes at 1.30am as usual, but instead of lying there till 4.30, wide awake and wanting some dinner, I went back to sleep within 30 minutes, so have woken up feeling relatively normal. This is joy. And I’m not going to whinge on about the incredible privilege of international air travel, when so many millions of fellow human beings are homeless or without access to clean water… But jetlag does suck bad. Plus sleeping on a shitty pull-out bed on Mum’s floor for 3 weeks had stressed my back, therefore a visit to the Osteopath was part of my self-care strategy on returning. I was massaged, manipulated, adjusted and cracked, especially my chest/rib area, front and back. You know, around your heart. Interesting that. I went home from the appointment feeling terrible: nauseous like morning sickness, grumpy, on edge, and prickly …

#ActforPeace #rationchallenge #refugeerations #sponsorme

‘I want to eat my lawn’: craving greens on a week-long ration challenge

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I’m heading into Day 5, and after this week of eating the same food as a Syrian refugee, will be avoiding rice for at least the next 3 months. Day 3 was hard: I felt really foggy in my brain, and almost angry that I was making myself do this. Thank goodness that passed. Today has been better, apart from fighting my ridiculous urge to eat anything green, including grass. On Facebook, other Ration-Challengers have been moaning about no caffeine, sugar, or alcohol; I’m just having serious fantasies about superfood green smoothies, bunches of fresh spinach, and steamed broccoli heads with olive oil and cracked pepper.I made falafel-type patties for lunch & dinner: remember I only have salt, flour, veg oil, one spice (cumin), no garlic, no onion. But oh boy, they still tasted delicious!   If you feel like helping me reach the final fundraising target of $1500 (I’m on almost $1300), here is my Donation Page link. And thank you so much. Or please send parsley and kale, express post… 😉 In utter gratitude …

How do you start your morning- tea or coffee? Well, neither if you’re a refugee

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My official Refugee Rations box arrived for the Ration Challenge, and it feels weird to know I’m getting to ‘play’ at such a serious situation for only a week- the privilege mocks me. Thanks to lovely friends and my network, I’ve raised almost $900 so far, which feels awesome; having reached various ‘fundraising targets’, I’ve ‘earnt’ myself 50g of salt (instead of sugar), some milk, a spice (I’m choosing cumin), and now a small head of broccoli (170g) plus yesterday an egg! Very exciting. These rewards don’t come out of the fundraising donations of course; it just means I am able to include them in my refugee diet. It works on the honour system, and it’s a lovely feeling to know that all over Australia, thousands of us are doing this together to raise awareness and take action in support of our vulnerable brothers and sisters around the world. I’m about $100 off being ‘allowed’ 2 teabags, and if there’s one thing I love it’s my pot of peppermint tea in the morning… PLEASE donate …

Can I put on ‘normal’ like a coat?

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I slept so badly last night, here in Australia, acutely aware that back in England, my Mum was [hopefully] being assessed by a community health care team (previous post explains HERE). I’m writing this now as I wait to hear outcomes from my cousin ‘C’, who kindly took the day off work to be there as well. I woke up to scroll my Facebook feed, which is full of #MeToo. SO MANY WOMEN. I keep saying ‘Not you too? And you! OMG it’s nearly everyone.’ Then I see the hurricane has hit Ireland, the wildfires blaze on in California, Puerto Ricans are drinking contaminated water, and North Korea has threatened Australia for aligning with America. For fuck’s sake, this is NOT normal. Or rather, this is NOT what I want my ‘normal’ to be. I can feel the anxiety squeezing my head and chest; I have a low-grade churning in my belly that’s been there for days now. And yes, I’m still cooking dinner, feeding the cat, helping with English homework, and making vague plans …