And then…

So, last week I was mooching along, just doing the same old thing, when a massage therapist told me she could feel a ‘mass’ in my abdomen, when I was having a very rare massage (never have them. Note to self, don’t have one again). With my background in nursing, I was able to envision the worst case scenario, and spent the rest of the evening wondering if I was going to die in the next few months.

I went to the ED the next day (because going to the doctor costs so much), only to be examined, and told, there was something there, but that I should urgently see my GP and get a scan. After a minor meltdown, I managed to get into to see my doctor. She thought there was something wrong, but I couldn’t get a scan till the next morning. By now, I seriously thought I was going to be given some horrible news the next day. I spent the evening sitting in shock, reviewing my life, and wondering if this was it.

I left the house the next morning, to walk to the place where I was getting my scan. There was a rainbow in the sky, and I hoped it was a sign. When I got to my appointment, I think I had the most burnt-out radiographer on the planet doing my scan. I casually mentioned I’d been a nurse, and that the general public can be a pain in the butt. That seemed to open a floodgate for this poor guy, who used more swear words than I’ve ever heard in one sentence, as he let me know how much he hated his job. At the end of it, he swung the screen around, announcing to me that there was absolutely nothing wrong that he could see, and that the doctors and massage therapist were dickheads!

Turns out he was right. Turns out I spent 2 days and $300 thinking I was dying when I wasn’t. And it turns out, when I was in the dark night of my soul, contemplating if I’d had a good life, I thought to myself, yes, I have! In fact, the only thing I’ve decided to change is that I need to do more sewing and craft. I dragged my muse to IKEA with me on the weekend, and purchased a flatpack craft table. It’s still in the back of the car, because I’m going to have to rearrange the entire house to accommodate it. But I don’t care. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance and I’m certainly going to dive into my creative endeavours with a lot more enjoyment than I was doing before.

So, on that note I’m going to go and hunt through my patterns for my next sewing project, review my crochet wool, think about where I’m going to put my two new miniature dollhouse projects and get stuck into my next novel. No, I really can’t see where I’m going to fit the housework in…

The Art of Liking Yourself

Last post, I mentioned I was going to Perth to do a 2 day sewing workshop with sewing blogger and all round fabulous vintage starlet Gertie Hirsch. I purchased her book ‘Gertie’s Ultimate Dress Book’ about a year ago, and had been following her on Instagram ever since. When I heard she was coming to Australia to teach various dressmaking courses, I jumped at the chance before I could give myself time to think it through. My thoughts after I’d paid my deposit were along the lines of… ‘you can’t sew’, ‘who do you think you are?’, ‘you are too old to be doing this,’ blah, blah, blah. Plus, the only course which hadn’t sold out when I went to enrol, was in Western Australia, Perth. It’s bloody half a continent away from little old South Australia, and I don’t like flying!

God I get sick of that voice inside my head, that’s been there for EVER, telling me I’m not good enough, or can’t do stuff, or I’m going to be sitting next to someone on the plane who has the plague. When I got back from Perth, I realised what a fantastic experience I’d had, how well the dress I’d sewn on the course had turned out, and what a privilege it had been to sew with Gertie. Yet, the whole course had been tainted with the background voice in my head banging on and on about not being good enough.

Each year, for the last few years, I’ve set myself a theme for the year. I had The Year of Reading Instructions, The Year of Saying It’s All In The Timing, but next year is going to be The Year of Speaking Well About Myself. That means inside and outside. It’s going to be a challenge, but I’ve often wondered what would happen if you lost your memory, woke up, and decided your life was amazing, and then just got on with it!

I’m going to do my best to see what that looks like…

In the meantime, I’m going to put my new dress on, get out there into the world and start telling myself that I’m okay. Let’s see what happens!