OK peeps, this the last installment of how I survived the D word. And this is where the fun begins (thank god!).

Part 1 outlined the 3 phases immediately following the crisis and in Part 2, I gave you insight into how I made it through. Now for the Reality Bites phase where I came to accept the situation and begin a new life…

Reality Bites Recovery

I was pretty much dragged kicking and screaming into this phase, but there comes a time in any crisis when you have to stop fighting the situation and just accept that it’s happened, there’s nothing you can do about it and it’s time to move on.

To stop fighting the situation, I made the decision to move out of our home and in with friends. My reasoning behind this was twofold; 1. I needed to protect myself by living in a more nurturing, loving and peaceful environment and 2. To give Mr X space in the hope that he’d decide to continue with our marriage.

It’s at this point I will acknowledge Rod and Kiles, my great friends who opened their home to me during less than stellar times and also happen to be wingless Earth angels.

Part of accepting the experience for me was to be grateful for what I did have and to find the humour regardless. Neither of which were particularly easy given the circumstances but possible nonetheless.

To help with gratitude and to re-focus my mind on what was going right, I began a gratitude journal. Each day I’d find at least 3 things to be grateful for (often it was more) and before going to sleep at night, I’d add them to the journal. It worked wonders.

As for finding humour, I didn’t have to look far. Living with Rod and Kiles provided all the humour I needed. One night while watching a travel show called Getaway, I made the not so intelligent comment of, “If the next segment is on Canada I’ll do a nudie run.” Rod and Kiles endorsed the idea, and a little too enthusiastically too I might add.

Getaway Reporter: “Welcome back. Here we are in downtown Vancouver, one of the world’s most livable cities.”

Sami: “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!”

Rod & Kiles: AHHHHHH Hahahahahahahahaha! Nudie run! Nudie run! Nudie run! Nudie run! Nudie run!

Revenge was sweet, the following week Rod chose Thailand and sure enough, on came a segment on Bangkok (luckily he didn’t bang his on his lap around the lounge room). Kiles never did partake in a nudie run, mainly because she kept choosing places like the Republic of Congo.

Whilst there wasn’t anything I could do about the situation I found myself in, I could choose how I responded to it. This was brought home to me when my Dad said, “The only revenge is to live well.” Really? That’s the only revenge? Couldn’t I just add a little skunk juice to his shampoo? No? What about a giant picture of him in his undies on a billboard? Still no? Hit-man? OK, adamant no. Alrighty then, living well it is.

It was with Dad’s words ringing in my head I made the decision to move to Canada. And so a new chapter began.

I was up against it when it came to moving to Canada; Very little money, even less idea of where I’d live and no contacts. Add to that, my apparent elderly status of 33 years old according to Immigration, meaning I was too old for the working holiday visa and had to be sponsored. This required a company offering me a job without a visa in the hopes the visa would actually come through.

As so often happens in life when you’re on the right path though, the planets aligned…

I received a big enough tax cheque to cover the flights and a bit of travel. Money – check.

Came into Banff, Canada, on a tour, fell in love with the place and didn’t leave. Place to live – check.

Lived in a hostel for about 8 weeks and met many locals and travellers alike. Contacts – check.

Applied for a job with a tour company, neglected to mention I was sans a visa, sweet talked my way into a job, spent 4 months working for cash (don’t tell anyone) whilst waiting for the ever efficient Canadian Government to process my visa. Visa – check. Legal job – check.

The pic at the beginning of this post is a shot of Chris, my new soul mate who I met during my time in Banff (and who also happens to be Australian – go figure) and myself at the summit of Cascade Mountain, one of Banff’s most beautiful. A fitting image for the end of this series me thinks.

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As I alluded to in Part 1 of this article series on how I came back from the deep, dark recesses of the D word, my recovery has gone through 3 phases; 1. Shut down, 2. Survival mode and 3. Reality bites (ie acceptance).

In truth, I’m not so sure I can say I am completely recovered even after 3 years. While I have come a LONG way, if I saw Mr X in the street, I’d do my best impression of a traffic light in the hopes he wouldn’t see me. Although, given I have the stature of a hobbit (but without the hairy toes), I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t work.

You see, when you’re on the receiving end of someone wanting to end a marriage you don’t want to end, you deal with a loss not unlike a death but with the added layer of rejection. Let’s just say the forgiveness part (clearly phase 4 of recovery) is a work in progress. Some days I’m all Mother Teresa about it while other days I’d rather forgive Hitler. I guess that makes me human (but still a messiah to highly evolved aliens).

All that aside, and as strange as it may seem, I am grateful for the experience. Lessons were learnt, deeper connections with those close to me formed, kick arse adventures had and a new, more fulfilling and fun life created. None of which would have happened had it not been for the D word.

So how did I get to this point? Read on to find out dear friends and aliens…

Shut Down Recovery

Recovery here was mostly thanks to my body’s natural shock reaction. It was as though one of my alien followers had taken me over. Kind of what I imagine an out of body experience to be like.

Numbness took over and created a soft cushioning between me and my reality. All my senses were dulled. I’m no neurologist but my guess is that it was my body’s way of protecting my psychological side just long enough to handle the information I was given and for hope to sneak in.

My only conscious contribution to recovery in this phase was to head to my parents for some much needed advice, hugs and Vegemite toast. Oh, and I also took a sickie from work for a day (ie Australian for a day off when you’re not technically sick).

Survival Recovery

When you are in the middle of a major crisis, your survival is all that matters. This means that you’re not particularly interested in the price of oil, whether you should go with the fuschia shirt or the beige or calculating how many children Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt now have. Your focus is on getting through the day without melting down or running naked through the streets ranting something about aliens.

For me, survival was all about getting support, taking care of my physical and mental health, functioning in my job at the time and fostering hope. Anything outside that fell by the wayside.

Initially support took the form of my parents but as time went on and knowledge of my situation spread, my support team included my siblings, close friends, a couple of trusted work colleagues and even a few strangers (it’s amazing how a genuine smile or sincere hello can make a difference when you’re hurting).

Looking after my physical and mental health meant;

• Getting plenty of sleep (responsible use of sleeping tablets very much helped with this)
• Exercise and meditation to help counteract the stress
• Crying, in order to deal with intense emotions
• Forcing myself to eat (I’d lost my appetite to such a point that cupcakes didn’t even appeal – WTF?!)

Functioning at work was tough. For a long time, no one knew what I was going through and at the time, I was in charge of a major event with little support. In hindsight though, work gave me welcome relief from thinking about what was happening at home. For this fact, I’m glad it wasn’t common knowledge.

If emotions did bubble to the surface, my strategy was to find somewhere I could calm back down, so I’d head to the toilet or go for a walk outside. I also took a lunch break every day and used this time to do some deep breathing or reading in a park.

As for fostering hope, at this point, I was convinced we could work it out. Fostering hope included;

• Seeing a marriage counsellor
• Reading “save your relationship” type books
• Organising weekends away for us
• Getting life coaching (this was a huge help to me)
• Talking about it with trusted family and friends
• Talking about it to Mr X
• Giving Mr X space
• Visualising the desired outcome
• Hanging on to any little sign from Mr X (imagined or otherwise) that maybe, just maybe, this would all miraculously work out.

Reality Bites Recovery

Now, given this post is already a novel and also given the accepting reality part of the recovery was fairly lengthy, I’ve decided to extend the series to a part 3.  So, if you’re interested in finding out how I pulled my head out of the sand, gave it a good shake and took the first step to a new beginning, stay tuned.

To be continued…

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One of the subjects I haven’t spoken in much detail about on this blog is my divorce. This is partly because, right from the beginning, I’ve wanted to keep this an inspiring, positive, happy space and partly because that time of my life was about as enjoyable as an anchovy and gravel sandwich. Actually, give me the sandwich any day, at least it’s over with quickly! Needless to say, it’s not the easiest subject to discuss.

Those of you who are regular readers will know I’ve created a kick arse life using the divorce and what I’ve learnt from it as a spring board (for new readers,check out the vid on my home page or have a read of this).

This of course didn’t happen straight away. There was some work to do first and I thought it might be helpful for some to know how I got through the first stage (note: this will be in 2 parts. Part 1 will be what happened. Part 2 will be how I made it through).

Out of respect for Mr X (and myself for that matter), I won’t go into details about how the divorce came about but to get a grasp of my story, some brief history is required. Here is the “critical path” (who would have thought my marketing logistics subject would actually come in handy!);

• 5 star relationship, going along fine, no major issues, great communication and having fun (14 years together, married for 4 of them).
• Out of the blue, Mr X says, “I don’t think I love you anymore.” (information I could have done with 13.5 years ago).
• Tried everything I could, including a Dr Phil book, to fix the situation. Mr X’s heart not in it.
• Move in with friends.
• Leave Australia to start a new life in Banff, Canada (divorce finalised while OS).

Before you ask, no, I didn’t see it coming. I consider myself fairly astute and in tune with how people are feeling. I still didn’t see it coming. Even with hindsight, nope, didn’t see it coming. The whys and hows I truly can’t answer and probably never will. The only shred of light given to me at the time was his diagnosis of a mid life crisis (at age 31) by a marriage counsellor.

The initial stage, for me, consisted of 3 distinct parts;

1. Shut down

Now when told “I don’t think I love you anymore” (translation: “I don’t love you anymore”), by someone you most definitely love, it’s like being told they’ve died. So my body’s very first natural instinct was to shut down. 

Shock, numbness and disbelief took over. It’s amazing to me how our bodies naturally take the reins and protect us psychologically via a partial shut down. It’s kinda like the emergency generators kicking in when the power goes out in a hospital. This lasted a couple of days.

2. Survival mode

When I realized this really was serious and that Mr X’s body hadn’t been taken over by aliens via an anal probe, my survival instincts kicked in.

I was way down there on Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. Self actualisation wasn’t exactly a major goal. My total focus was fixing my marriage, force feeding myself (I’d totally lost my appetite), exercising to manage the stress, sleep and functioning at work. Everything else was non-existent.

During this stage, I still had hope it’d all work out. Survival mode lasted probably about 3 months.

3. Reality bites

The reality bites stage was acceptance of the situation…and a significant reduction in my level of hope. It was during this time I started to see that a fairytale ending (at least with Mr X) was unlikely.

This was also a time of decision making and action taking. In a sense I needed to protect myself. Not from Mr X so much, more from the situation itself.

During this stage, I made the decision to head overseas in a bid to see if the distance would help Mr X finally come to a decision about our marriage and also to begin healing in the event it wasn’t going to end the way I wanted.

This stage took about 6 months and it was towards the end of this time the decision to finalise our separation was made.

I would imagine the stages of recovery from most major crises follow a similar path. It was a hefty loss for sure and at the time, total recovery felt impossible. But recover I did.

In part 2 I’ll recount what I did in each stage to stop from going postal and keep out of a straight jacket.

Have you been through a major crisis? If so, were your stages of recovery similar?

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Losing someone close to you is truly one of the hardest experiences a human being can go through.

Meet Jodie Bielenberg. She’s been there.

Following is a letter Jodie wrote to her sister. It’s an incredibly moving testament to the resilience and strength of the human spirit and a powerful reminder to appreciate those close to us.

To my angel,

Running through sprinklers, building forts, putting your hair in French braids…being a kid was so much fun!  Sometimes I would forget we were sisters, we were the greatest playmates. Then came thirteen, you could never understand why my phone was more important than you. Boyfriends took the place of playmates and there wasn’t much room for a little sister.

Looking through the scrapbook now, you hardly notice the gap, the time where I took you for granted, assuming you’d be there waiting when I finally grew out of it. I remember the shift…me leaving for college, you switching high schools and terrified to start over. We were equals again, worried about what the future would hold.

For me it turned out to be an Advertising major and a job in Chicago. For you, an off-and-on boyfriend from our hometown. Hundreds of letters and e-mails later, you had a degree and a fiancé – that funny redhead from high school.  Planning the wedding, sending you off to Georgia, who would have thought: an Air Force wife!  Visits to the base were always exciting, you were so happy there.  A beautiful home, a wonderful husband, and plans to move-in with me in Chicago when his tour was done.

Originally, I set out to write a thank you letter, but this has turned into a trip down memory lane. It seems as though it happens all the time now, recounting the memories.  I took for granted that you’d always be there – for my wedding, the babies, the future. I took for granted the family you kept together, and the new one you were just beginning. 

When that monster took both of you away from us, I never thought I’d have a reason to be thankful. But as the years slowly pass, I realize how many things I need to thank you for…

Teaching me to live each day to the fullest, and never take anything for granted. We never know what tomorrow will bring, so I make sure that those people closest to me know how much I love them.  Since we’re only on this earth for a limited time, it is so important to make each day count.

Giving me the courage to start a new life without you.  Moving to Texas and starting graduate school was definitely not in the original plan!  But without you in Chicago, it just wasn’t the same future I had always envisioned.  I had to make a change, and in it I have created an amazing new life for myself.

Creating a family that has endured this horrible tragedy. Even when you’re gone, you’re still “the glue” that holds us together.  Having the opportunity to spend time as a family has allowed us all to heal, and to keep your memory alive.

Showing me the importance of kindness. And that helping others is far more rewarding than a big paycheck! Social work is my calling, but until you died I never explored the option to change careers.  I hope that in some small way I can make you proud and continue your legacy of helping others.

Allowing me to become my best self. Through traumatic events in our lives we often focus on the negative, but I found some of my greatest strengths as a result of my grief.  We often underestimate our capabilities, and I have you to thank for uncovering some of mine.

When you were murdered, a part of me died with you. But in its place has grown a new strength and reason for living. Growing up, you looked up to me, the one with all the answers. But now I see that the tables have turned, and it’s me who looks up to you.

Love,
Your older spinster

In her own words, Jodie is “a work in progress, always learning, making mistakes, and trying to grow from them. I have realized that my goal is not to grow up, but rather to live like a kid: always exploring, asking questions, and riding the swings whenever possible.” She’s also a talented artist and author of the blog, The Year of Discovery.

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If all is going to plan, today I should be somewhere in Volcano National Park on the Big Island of Hawaii hiking to, flying over or driving by an active volcano in search of molten lava, and with a view to ticking off number 20 on my Daisy List; Look Into a Volcano. A red hot dream if ever I saw one!

In my absence, Gayle Nastasi from Gazehound is guest posting today. Gayle is an animal communicator and advocate for our furry, feathered and otherwise non-human friends. When she’s not blogging about animal welfare, positivity and overcoming obstacles, Gayle is helping clients communicate with their pets, rehabilitating wildlife, rescuing animals, writing, photographing and gardening! Read Gayle’s guest post and then when you’re done, go on over to Gazehound and check it out. Over to you Gayle…

What’s the Worst Thing That Could Happen?

We’ve all been there: we’re sitting on the edge of a decision, and don’t know which way to turn. An opportunity has presented itself, but accepting it means (shudder at the thought) … change. Change is a big thing for most people. Many of us, when faced with a significant change in our lives, feel like we’re paralyzed, at least for a while.

Whenever I think about how people react differently to change, I can’t help thinking about cats.

(And they all sit, scratching their heads, and asking, “Huh?”)

As an animal communicator, I’ve attempted to help many cats and their humans through life’s challenges. Cats, as a rule, don’t like change. Although, for the most part, animals know how to live in the moment and get the most out of each pulse and breath, when a cat’s environment changes, they very often go through a serious period of dejection, rejection, and acting out.

Something as simple as moving a familiar piece of furniture to a new spot, or an owner changing their work day schedule, can worry some cats to distraction. Whenever a client calls me to say that the cat’s started fighting, or is peeing on furniture, or has stopped eating, or isn’t using the litter box anymore, or … I try to get to the bottom of two inevitable questions:

Has he seen a vet to make sure there’s nothing physically wrong?

and

“What’s changed?”

As humans, of course, our reactions to change in our lives don’t usually mean we start spraying against the sofa or beating up our little brothers. We do, however, go through classic stress symptoms when decisions have to be made. Everyone is unique on this earth-walk, and each reacts differently. For some, it takes a major issue like a job change, or ending a relationship, to cause us undue duress. Others falter over having to dig out the winter wear and put our favorite shorts and tees to bed for the season.

When I’m faced with a major change (or, at times, even a minor one) in my life, I ask myself a question that seems to really help get me focused:

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

That question seems to put things into perspective for me. It sorts out the genuinely major issues from those that may seem major but really aren’t. If the answer is “I lose my home”, or “I could die”, then yes, I’m faced with a big issue that needs careful thought and a great deal of trust in my intuition. If the answer to the question is “I’ll look like a dork” or “I might fall down and have to pick myself up again”, then the choice becomes a much less stressful one, and I stride forward with more confidence.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” does not end all stress, nor does it remove the need to make serious changes in life. What it does, however, is weed out some of the things we’re worrying about that really don’t require all that much worry.

We’re faced with challenges every single day. Rarely do challenges come along where there is only one possible answer. Many of the truly wonderful adventures in life will involve a choice that, if we “play it safe”, we would not normally make. Asking “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” will often clarify the situation, filter out those options that aren’t quite so scary, and give us courage as we realize that our worst-case scenarios are quite often more-than-acceptable risks.

When faced with choices, and with change in life, ask the question, weigh your answers, and always remember when the heart begins to palpitate just a bit: You may balk a bit over change, but you still handle it better than a cat.

About the Author

Gayle Nastasi is a professional animal communicator who hosts a multi-topic blog at Gazehound. Feel free to visit, and follow her thoughts on things like creative thought, animal welfare, overcoming obstacles, and more.

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Ahhh procrastination. The life waster, dream crusher, energy sapper to many. “Out damn’d procrastination! Out, I say!”

How many times do you hear yourself (or others) say “I should”, “One day I’d love to…” or “Some day soon I’m going to…” Here’s a perfect example of procrastination in action;

Let’s get one thing straight, I’m certainly not immune to procrastination. When going through university, I had the cleanest house imaginable when it was exam time. Anything but study! And don’t even start with me about getting my taxes done. I’d rather watch reruns of Baywatch than organize the paperwork for that.

Over the time however, I’ve devised some sneaky strategies to help keep procrastination at bay;

My number 1 strategy is my Daisy List. Having a clear idea of my goals and dreams is very motivating. Seeing how long the list is also gives me a sense of urgency.

Knowing the date of my death. Apparently the date of my death is February 15, 2059. That is 50 years from now and would make me 86 years old. I have 50 YEARS LEFT! When you look at it like that, it puts things in perspective.

OK, so I don’t really know the date of my death. I filled out this questionnaire, whose logarithms, questions and formulas are probably questionable and it spat out a date. It does, however, give you a sense of mortality.

Thinking about when you’re going to die is morbid for most people but for me it’s motivating. I don’t want to waste my life here. Who knows what’s on the other side. I could end up coming back as a demented lemming, or worse… Elizabeth Taylor (one divorce a lifetime is plenty thanks very much).

Routines. I’m wary of overdoing it with routine where life becomes rigid and predictable, but some routine can really help with reaching goals and dreams.

For example, in order for me to reach my goal of getting in shape, I had (and still do have) a routine for my exercise; Monday 8.30am is personal training with Captain Agony, Tuesday 5.30pm is bootcamp and Thursday 7pm is touch football. Routine can be a great ally against procrastination.

Getting inspired by others. After watching the DVD Choir of of Hard Knocks, I was inspired to get off my ass and start working on a vision I have to give back. It’s currently a work in progress but all will be revealed very soon. Seeing some of the amazing things people are doing out there can help cream procrastination.

Determine why I’m procrastinating. If I’m putting something off, I’ll look at why. Is it because it’s something my heart really isn’t in and I need to let it go? Is it because I don’t know where to start and have to work out the first step? Am I just being lazy and need a kick in the rear? Am I overwhelmed and actually need to put it, or another project off for good or temporarily? Once I know the answer, I take the appropriate action.

Just do 10 minutes. Another handy strategy I use is to do just 10 minutes of what I’m procrastinating about. Once I start, momentum kicks in and I’ll often end up completing the task at hand. If not, at least I’ve done 10 minutes more than I otherwise would have.

Do what I’m putting off first. For tasks that I’m not particularly looking forward to (like ironing for instance – what moron came up with the idea that we must have wrinkle-free clothing anyway?), I’ll often tackle them first thing in the morning. This one step can go a long way to changing procrastination as a habit.

So there you have it, the 7 ways I use to overcome procrastination.

I’m curious to know, what procrastination decimating strategies do you use?

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