Do It For My Mental Health

On Thursday, a collective of 60 mental health organisations form around Australia will be presenting a co-signed letter and a petition from Australian citizens to our PM.  They will be urging him and his government to act immediately to reform the mental health system in this country and provide it with enough funding to actually make it work.  Right now, it doesnt work at all.  People suffer.  People die.  I know this first hand.  

So I wrote a letter to my local MP.  Never done that before.  This time, I just had to.  So with tears streaming down my face, I wrote.  I'd like to share it with you.  And then I'd like you to go here and sign the petition. 

***

I come from a family with a history of mental illness. My mother suffered from severe depression for as long as I can remember. I have had anxiety and depression my entire life, not diagnosed until I was in my 20s (I'm now 41). One brother had schizophrenia. The other had severe and untreated depression.  Both of my brothers committed suicide at the age of 45, within two years of each other. They desperately needed help and they didnt get it because the proper services were not available. Warren, my brother with schizophrenia, was on a forced treatment order and suffering terribly with psychotic episodes and yet was released from hospital to "live in the community". He died in that community too, unnoticed for several days until he had not turned up for his required medication.

Mental ill-health is the leading killer of Australians under 45 (there's that magic number again!) and the leading cause of disability in Australia. It is not acceptable that people are turned away from hospitals, or that government funding for outreach services is either an embarrassing pittance or non-existant.

Does this government care that for each of those Australians that has a mental illness there are many more around them that suffer too? Does this government care that for every person who dies as a result of suicide, their families and friends continue to suffer and blame themselves?

Does this government care enough about its citizens to provide adequate funding for mental health services, so that other families do not have to explain to their children why the uncle whom they resemble so much isnt around anymore?

I urge you to support the efforts of the 60 mental health organisations who are presenting a letter to Kevin Rudd on Thurday. I urge you to support the immediate reform mental health services and increase funding.

I urge you to consider my 4 year old son - the one who looks so much like his uncle - who has a very high chance of living with mental illness himself. What future will this government be giving him?

Yours sincerely,

****

Little Panda and big brother Warren (then known as Robert), c1973

Felix, Aug 2009

Please sign the petition.

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Serenity Sunday

Sundays have been stressful around here.  My Significant Other - know to the cyberverse as Monkey Boy - has taken up archery.  Bow Hunting, to be precise, except they hunt creatures made of Styrofoam and hay bales rather than woolly mammoth.  Sunday is Monkey Day, which means that I get left holding the babies.

This wouldn’t be a problem if I were actually capable of holding the babies, but with my spinal injury and now the Disease Most Likely (Ankylosing Spondylitis) affecting my ability to do much of anything physical it is, actually, a problem.

I have dreaded Sundays for a while now, because not only am I having to cope in a situation I am not built to cope with, the kids think the rules go out the kitchen door with Daddy and that means Mummy turns into a screaming banshee and wants to punch herself in the head.

Like I said: Sundays have been Stressful.

NO MORE!

I am going to introduce a new routine to my Sundays!  I read a quote on Twitter* the other day: something about if you don’t like what’s happening, change it, and if you can’t change it then change the way you look at it.  (I would add: “if you won’t do either of these then at least quit your bloody bitching about it.”)

My plan is to turn Stressful Sunday into Serenity Sunday. From today, every Sunday I will grab my camera (that I we paid a small fortune for) and take photos of things that make me happy.  I will futz around with them on Photoshop (which also makes me happy) and then share them with you.  (If anyone is actually out there.  StatCounter says there is, but you’re awfully quiet...)

Hooray for A Plan! 

Here’s what is making me happy today.  I hope some of these images might make you happy too.

A good start to The Plan:  Felix and Ella off to play.

Dew Feather

Decay

A Cat and His Boy

Apple Feast

  Moss 1: 
I particularly love the smooshed bit of blue chalk, not even noticed when I shot this

Moss 2

A Boy and His Stick

The Crab Apple Tree That Never Said "You Killed Me You Bastards"

Wet Bike

Repurposed Garden Boot:  I dont stop at clothing, people!

Tangled Food: eschallots resprouted from our crisper drawer

Totem

Winter Slide

Ella's Pinny Top:  my first draft on the top and first attempt at applique.  Not Too Shabby.

Rocket (Aragula) in potentia.  

After 5 years, we still have it re-seeding through the garden.  And I LOVE Rocket.

Ahhhh.  How's the serenity?

*Smacks self in head for taking advice from twittersphere.

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12 Months, 12 Themes, 12 Crafts, 1 Happy Panda

Over at the wonderful blog of jewelery designer Adelle, there's a whole world of challenging going on.

Starting today crafters can join in on The 12 Month Craft The World Challenge and create something awesome on a different theme each month.  I'm quite taken with this idea and subsequently shouted "I'm in! I'm in" before realising that she couldn't actually hear me and perhaps typing my excitement might be more appropriate.

I love crafting or being involved in any sort of creative endeavour. I've done it all from knitting, sewing, crochet (Fail) scrapbooking, photography, drawing (pass), painting (Fail), writing, garden design, jewelery, and even studying Law (which is extremely creative, let me tell you).  My problem is knowing exactly where to start and what to focus on.  There are too many choices, which is why I suppose I got sidetracked away from sewing in the first place all those years ago, and why I can NOT decide between 15 brands of Creamed Corn on shopping day.  Give me a list, a deadline and a theme and I will produce the goods.  Sadly, it takes someone else to provide these things, to give me the kick up the backside I need, to be able to surmount the incredible inertia I experience when faced with options.*

So, not only is this a 12 Month Craft Challenge, but for me I think I shall look upon it as a 12 Month Decision Challenge.  If you feel like a bit of a challenge yourself, either in the making something every month for a year realm, or the cannot-make-a-decision-to-save-my-life-realm, trundle on over and sign your next 12 months away.


*Partially due to gross character flaw and partially to spending wayyy too long in tertiary education.

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Vintage Vexations

Back in The Day, when I was just a wee young thing with stars in my eyes about being a Famous Fashion Designer, I used to haunt all the thrift shops and vintage clothing dealers in my city.  Vintage - and I mean anywhere from late 19th century to 1960s - was plentiful and it was cheap.  There was The Umbrella Room on Rundle Street, Mabs' Emporium wayyy down the end of Grenfell Street.  There were standard run-of-the-mill op shops in the south end of the CBD that sold truly divine 50s dresses for $2.  I LOVED them.  As a 17 year old, I had long conversations with the owners of these Houses of Divineness about the downfall of fashion and how sad it truly was that women no longer wore hats and gloves to go out anymore.

(I understand completely if at this point you want to kill my 17 year old self: permission granted.)

I have such intense memories of the fabulous cherry-print twirly skirt with tulle underskirt that I wore with my 1940s sequinned cardi (sometimes on backwards) and bobby sox, with a white cane doctors bag style purse.  I was It And A Bit. 

Somewhere along the way, life changed course and I became more interested in what a Significant Other thought of me and that certainly didnt involve having me poncing around in pretty clothes.  Which is a great shame, because I did pretty clothes very well.  Now the passage of time means the clothes that were fashionable at that time, the things I had decried as the End Of Fashion, are now Vintage themselves.  I shudder, and I will never ever be caught in a bubble skirt (again).

I was pondering upon all this today, and on the demise of the cheap vintage store in our city.  An out-of-the-ordinary trip into the city today to farewell my Bestie to the Canadadia led me past a small, put-baby-in-the-corner boutique.  Vintage. Vintage!  My heart skipped a beat!  Perhaps it has come full circle? I thought giddily.  Perhaps I can relive those moments I gave up too easily 20-something years ago.

I stepped inside the unrenovated, heritage-listed building. Tiny.  Gorgeous clothing surrounded me.   A brooch from my childhood (Avon, contained solid perfume) was displayed on a bust on the counter.  I was in my element.  1960s mod mini dress...Cotton 1950s shirtwaist dress...Cornflower Blue 1950s tea dress....  Then I reached for the price tags.  Not one thing under $150.  Tea Dress? $295. 

TWOHUNDREDANDNINETYFIVEDOLLARS!!!

Back in The Day I could (and did) buy such things for $5.  It almost made me weep.  OK, so maybe I'm just pre-menstrual, but there was sadness there.  Sadness that clothing of such beauty can now be so far out of the reach of regular folks.  Sadness that now our clothing history is so highly priced as to make the true celebration of that history - the wearing of the clothes and the continuation of the style - unattainable.  THAT, I think, is the real death of fashion.

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Not Quite What I Was Expecting

When I decided I was going to go into business with this online selling lark, I gave it little to no thought as to how it all worked.  "Etsy exists", I thought.  "I shall sell on Etsy!  It will be easy! Make clothes, list 'em, sell 'em."

I Didnt Give It Much Thought.  I usually dont, once I've made up my mind about something.  Car to buy, person to marry, business to run: its all been a "yep, THAT one" fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants decision.


Cars have lasted for more than one year, which for little money is all you can ask.  Marriage is still hanging in there despite more stress than any normal couple would cope with.  Business...well...

I love the sewing part. Creativity has always and will always run through my veins.  Its not just what I like, its who I am.  The sewing, the creating part, that is easy.  Even when it is staying up until midnight to get the thing finished, its still easy and enjoyable.  But this promotions bit...  No one told me, because quite obviously I never asked, that I would spend more time trying to promote my store than I would actually making the clothes.  It never occurred to my that I would NEED to be up to midnight every night to do the bare minimum of the "required" social networking, let alone all the relisting and retagging and faffing around with images and finding new outlets and new sources of advertising.  It never occurred to me that what started out as something I did for enjoyment, and for my mental health, would take up every single minute of every day and would tax my ability to stand upright.

There has been plenty of positive feedback for my product.  Potential customers love it.  Etsy love it.  I've been in one Etsy email and three Treasuries already.  But no-one has put their money where their mouth is, or their dollars into my PayPal account. It is gut-wrenchingly frustrating, and I dont do frustrated well.

Is it like this for all businesses when they start up?  I'm supposing it must be but bugger me, it sucks. Do I have unrealistic expectations?  It really and truly is the same learning curve as becoming a parent.  You have no idea whatsoever, despite everything you think you know, what is actually before you.  You learn on your feet or the kid (or business) dies. 


I'm not talking about giving in here.  Giving in is Not What I Do. I'm wondering what the happy medium is though.  Somewhere in this morass that is Starting A Business, there must be a way to have a life.

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