On dealing with loss and change

It's been a crazy few years.  First came Covid, and we had to learn and adapt.  And just as we started to get the hang of the pandemic we had unprecedented flooding in Auckland - unlike anything seen in mine, or even my parents, lifetimes.  Just over a week later, Cyclone Gabrielle tore through the North Island of Aotearoa, destroying our whenua.  Displacing 10,000 people and countless animals from their homes.

It's difficult to quantify the loss.

Damage near our local awa in Henderson - the log and silt aren't usually there

How I feel right now is heavy.  Bone deep tired. 

But I also feel gratitude.  Not only to have personally come out unscathed, but to see the level of whanaungatanga within our local communities.  The flooding was so sudden here it was difficult to process, but people started helping each other from the minute they realised how serious this was.  When I went to drop clothes around to our closest drop-in centre so many items of clothing and bedding had already been donated there wasn't room for more.  I asked what was still needed and bought some of those items to drop off instead.  Many people I've spoken to did the same.  We do not live in a wealthy area but we live in an area where people will give the shirts from their backs. 

We live in an area rich in aroha.  It is humbling to witness this during times like these.

Flooding in Wairoa after Cyclone Gabrielle

Processing what has happened locally has been difficult enough, but the impact of Cyclone Gabrielle on Hawke's Bay is hard to fathom.  Having seen the damage in our own backyard - the silted walkways, the downed fences and uprooted trees, and having spoken to those who have lost so much, I have some idea.  But here it's not all our fences.  We have not all lost our homes.  The level of loss in Esk Valley is immense.  The footage is hard to watch not because we want to ignore it, but because we feel the pain of thousands.  I know they will recover from this, but right now it feels overwhelming.

The physical level of recovery will take decades.  Not just to return our whenua to a healthier state, but to put infrastructure in place to ensure this level of destruction doesn't happen again.  Our local councils needs to revisit water management systems.  They need to look at increase housing levels more sustainably.  They need to reconsider flood-plains management.  We need to assess our rules around forestry slash.  And we need to plant more trees.  Not just to replace the thousands we've lost to the floods and cyclones, but to help manage the level of future flooding.  We have shortsightedly cut down too many trees to put in housing.  Planning and putting in these trees will take time.  And trees take time to grow.

As do kumara.

While the most recent series of climate events has truly rocked our confidence in the familiar, they are by no means the first events.  The biggest reason for the rising costs of fresh fruit and vegetables in Aotearoa is climate change.

It wasn't so long ago that Auckland suffered one of its most severe droughts in recorded history.  In February 2020 Auckland broke the record for the most days recorded without rain - it did not rain for 40 days*.  The impacts of a drought don't just effect our produce - they impact the wellness of our livestock, which in turn effects the prices of dairy, lamb and beef as the season renders lower yields than anticipated.  And there are many, many other industries affected which impacts pricing of groceries.

Many are happy to complain about the rising cost of living.  Many are happy to blame this on the government.  But just as many still seem uncomfortable connecting this cost with climate change.  That this is to be expected.  That we should have started preparing for this a long time ago.

But in fairness that preparation is hard because changing how we do things is hard.  For many, it's incomprehensible.  We know this from the recent freedom rallies.  I believe change is hardest for those at extremes - for those constantly negotiating change due to circumstance and those who are seldom required to change.

Foraged from the local bush supermarket

Even for me - a person very used to adapting to change - managing this constant state of flux isn't easy.  Growing up poor, moving house a lot, living in isolated places are all conducive to learning how to adapt.  Having this experience and knowledge is a blessing in times like these, but change still takes a toll.

Like I said before, I'm tired.

I'm tired of being a responsible adult.  Of ensuring we have plans A, B and C in place and set to go.  Of thinking of which documents I have yet to photograph and store on the portable hard drive in the grab bag.  I'm tired of reassuring our kids after the emergency mobile alert goes off on my phone.

Honestly, there are days I just want to quit adulting and curl up with a bag of Burger Rings.

And I feel so much guilt for feeling like this.  Because others have lost literally everything.  And these are not just faces on the TV these are people in my community.  I have workmates whose homes have flooded.  I have customers who've shown me footage of the flood waters completely covering the area around their homes.  The worst our household suffered was a three hour power cut.  We are truly lucky.

But I am trying to work through that guilt.

Because while we have been extremely lucky, we have still suffered a loss.

A small cabbage tree from a local park ripped from the ground

I believe regardless of circumstance, most of those living in the affected areas have suffered a loss.  My mother, who was driving during the flood, has lost her sense of confidence with driving.  She gets noticeably anxious when the rain starts to get heavier.  My cousin, who's wedding was the weekend after Cyclone Gabrielle hit had to sit with the knowledge that the roads north may not be open in time for anyone to attend.  We did not see our resident ducks for over a week.  I thought they had all drowned***.  I see people most days for whom there's been little direct impact, but their nervous disposition, their desperation to talk about the flooding with anyone, is a clear response to trauma.

These losses are not the same as the loss of a family member or a home.  But they are still losses.  And they still leave a mark.

What I think we need is a massive tangi. A space where we can collectively voice our grief.  Where we can mourn our losses whether it's an uprooted favourite tree, access to our local gym, or our lost tomato crops.  Where we can share our fears for the future, for our children and our communities.  Where we can wail and beat our chests and admit that it's ok to feel scared.  It's ok to feel sad.  It's ok not to have all of the answers.

Because maybe if we acknowledge that pain, we can start working through it.  Through knowing our pain we can work through our fear and then maybe we can start coming up with some solutions.

And maybe we'll feel less tired.

The day some of our visiting ducks returned home.  We were beyond thankful

* Not all of Auckland - we definitely had a very light rain at our place around the 30 day mark - but less than 1mm of rainfall in a day is still considered to be 'dry'.

** We are not in that position currently.  We are extremely fortunate in that respect.  But I know I can do it if I need to.

*** Thankfully, this wasn't the case [we've only lost a few] but it was very upsetting at the time.

On a fresh start

It was a tough year last year.  I lost two friends to cancer and had a few unexpected things come up which required some serious lifestyle renovations.

But we got through.  Pretty much intact.  Losing people you care about sucks but there is one positive: it really helps put things in perspective.  Especially when those people have fought through so many barriers to achieve what they did during their own lives.  While I struggled not to be swallowed up by grief for a time I realised neither of my friends would want me to do that*.  They would want me to get out there and live my life and appreciate all that I have in front of me.  I am blessed with the gift of living in this world while they have moved on.

    Recent pic of me - much bigger
than I feel comfortable seeing myself

This realisation helped me to understand that I've been stuck in the quagmire of grief for quite some time.  Ever since my health diagnosis a year and a half ago, I have struggled to make sense of how exactly to manage my life.  And I have used it as an excuse rather than facing my feelings head on.  While yes, I do normal Mum things and have a job and pay the bills I have been using numerous crutches to survive day-to-day.  Namely food and alcohol**.  And it has slowly been killing me.

Being heavier has been killing my confidence.  It is an awful thing to admit when you pride yourself on being a feminist, but I have discovered sadly, just how much of my confidence is tied up in how I look.  I have always been ok with being curvy.  I have pretty much never been a 'skinny' girl.  But I have always been roughly the same give or take a couple of kilos.  The reality is, that when I had this realisation I was about 20kg heavier than I was before I got pregnant with Abby.  And when you are short like me, 20kg is a LOT.

What brought me to this realisation?  Seeing friends get off their butts and do this for themselves.  The good and bad thing about social media is that it allows you a sneak peek into the lives of others.  And while these peeks should always be taken with a grain of salt, sometimes they really are the kick in the behind you need.  Because when pondering how amazing it is that a friend could write an amazing book after surviving brain cancer, you also see friends in the here and now making huge changes in their lives it drives home the fact that you can do it too.

I have lost 6kg since then end of November.  2kg so far this year.  I'm still heavier than I was the last time I attempted to lose weight, but it's still a significant achievement.  Especially given I've achieved most of it through entering a new territory: planned exercise.

Me before having Abby.     
Oh to be this size again!     

I've never been an 'exercise' person.  It's just not my thing.  I'm just not one of those people who thinks it's 'fun' to go for a run or 'hit the gym' or go tramping.  Fun things for me are board games and writing and comedy and cooking and drawing.  While for me some sports are fun (soccer and touch) I am not very good at them and thus anxious about joining a team.  And while I do enjoy being in nature and walking, in truth, the outside world is not my friend.  Bugs love me.  No matter which sunblock I use, the sun will burn me.  Going for a bush walk will result in welts and burns.  The beach is the same.  Summer is not designed for people like me.

I have always loved swimming.  The thing is though when you are uncomfortable with your size, the scarier getting into a pair of togs feels.  While swimming with the kids was once a fairly normal part of our week, once I got to a certain size I made excuses to avoid it.  My endo is playing up.  Etta's just started school.  Everyone is sick.  But truly, most of the time I was uncomfortable chasing my children around with so little to cover me.  But then I saw my friend was doing it.  My cousin was doing it.  My colleague was doing it.  All around me people were sucking it up and putting their bodies in the water no matter their size.  And it was good for them.

So I did too.

Most of my weight loss has come from swimming.  And even before I lost that much a funny thing changed.  I stopped feeling self conscious in my togs.  While I did buy a suit that had a little more coverage, it wasn't the main factor.  I just got used to it.  I realised that I was the only person who cared what I looked like.  People did not stare at me in horror.  I was just one of many bodies of many shapes and sizes going for a swim.

Similarly, my self-consciousness over being 'good' enough to go swimming dissipated over time.  When I started swimming, I was extremely anxious about lane swimming.  I was worried I would be bad.  That others would be annoyed by me being too slow or too clumsy or too anything.  So I mostly waterwalked unless I could be in a lane by myself.  A few months on I no longer care.  I dive straight into a lane and swim.  Just swim, without thinking about what everyone else is thinking about.

When school holidays began, for a time my swimming life was over.  As the primary caregiver of our children, all the time I had free before to swim was now sucked into childcare.  For two weeks I did not swim.  And then I realised (again) that I was just making excuses.  Of course I could still swim! I just had to get creative with time.  Now I swim Wednesday nights once Murray is home from work, Fridays after work, and Sunday afternoons.  I am swimming 3 - 4 kilometers every week.

Gotta love a good spreadsheet!

And I love it.  Not only am I losing weight, but it helps give me space away, not just from the family, but from my thoughts.  Once I've been swimming for about 20 minutes or so I go into a sort of meditative state.  I get into my body and out of my head and actually relax.  This is quite a hard thing for an anxious person to do.  And with the help of my favourite Microsoft program I can track my weight-loss and set myself goals and incentives.  This is fun for me!  Making weight loss fun is just smart!  Today, I hit my first incentive goal - 2kg***.  Which means tonight I get a celebratory teeny vino.

     Me today not feeling as self-conscious

So my goal is to get back to my pre-Abby weight - around 60kg.  But I have set other goals along the way.  I have already reached my goal of being able to fit my clothes more comfortably.  I have reached my fitness goal of being able to swim comfortably for half an hour non-stop.  And in all honesty these goals are more important than the numbers.  If I am healthy, and feel good in my body, then I will be happy.  Basically, if I am between 50 - 66kg I am in the healthy weight range for my age.  If I manage to get to 66kg and feel good, then that will be ok.

I still have a way to go to to get there, but right now I am just focused on enjoying the journey.  I will do my best to keep you updated and who knows?  Maybe I can help someone else feel like they can do it too.

Big thanks to Miriam, Penny, Lashaya, Cass and Jess.  Seriously, you are all fabulous.


*Well, maybe Sam a little.  He was fabulous and liked knowing it.  It would be good for his ego knowing how sad the world is for us without him.

** Not in a classic 'alcoholic' sense, but definitely in a 'having more than is good for your health' sense. 

*** I started my weight loss incentive chart at the beginning of this year

Failing the Challenge

Failure is an awful feeling.

Especially when it's a choice.

Because I did have a choice.  I could have held on and mucked through.  But the truth is that aside from the challenge last week was unpredictably tough.

A new recipe I made for the challenge -
Scottish oatcakes.  Quite tasty!  And cheap!

First off, the challenge was tougher than I thought it would be!  While it was different from the Ration Challenge in that I didn't feel that hard, aching hunger (I did make it halfway through the challenge), I did feel hungry at times.  I was much more anxious than usual as I knew how reliant I was on prep, and had to remember to bring the food I'd prepped with me to work.  My time felt much more precious.  And I had less of it than I had during last years challenge.  Even though I had more 'choice' in food than last time, it was still tough to eat the same thing for days in a row.  And even though those things were things I'd chosen that I like, the lack of variety was tough.

And then I got the headaches.  On the second day of the challenge I felt super wiped out and had a massive headache.  After school drop off, on the only day I have home alone, when I'm usually cleaning or writing, I went to bed to read and passed out for three hours.  The next day felt much the same, and not helped by a 5am start (Abby likes to wake up around then).  While I was hoping to have some time to rest and do food prep, after grocery shopping I had to pick Abby up from Kindy as she had a reaction to her immunisations which put everything - food, rest and work, into a spin.

My usual morning coffee           

When I saw my Mum before heading into work she told me the headaches were probably caffeine
withdrawal.  It seemed weird as I only have one coffee most mornings, and never had this when I did The Ration Challenge.  But the timing made sense.  I popped some paracetamol and headed into work.  Work was insane.  I'd forgotten we had a nursery sale on, which is always the busiest sale of all.  I worked extra hours to help out.  I was so busy, the headaches became some low background haze.

When I arrived home on Friday, I learned a dear friend had passed away on Thursday night.  It was expected, but still, grief hit me like a tidal wave.  And I had no food prepped.  After that, I just didn't have the resolve to continue.  All my resolve just left my body.

Had I been in the position of someone actually living below the line, I could not have done the things I did next.  I could not have afforded the petrol, or bus-fare to head North to say goodbye.

Even though I didn't finish the challenge, my circumstances really hit home to me how hard it would be to be in a less privileged position.

Had I been in the position of someone living below the line, there would be no way I could have gone to say goodbye.  We had to pay for the petrol to drive up to her Marae.  We had to find easy ways to feed the kids.  I needed to give her whanau a koha to help with the tangi.  She was loved by so many, it is no small thing.  And we are fortunate in that we can do that.  Not everyone can.  Even when they love someone with all their heart, not everyone has the option to drop everything to farewell their loved ones.

This privilege was reiterated when on driving home I got another headache.  This one put holes and rainbows through the left side of my vision.  This has happened to me before, and it was due to a severe sinus infection.  I then realised my earlier headaches probably weren't caffeine withdrawal*, but the beginning of this infection.  We drove straight from Northland to our local White Cross so I could get a check up and some meds.  Two more things that may not have been possible had I not been in the position to afford the emergency Drs fee, or the medication.

I do not regret opting out.  I needed to farewell my friend but I am so, so grateful that I am in the position that I could.

I know there is more to say, but right now I feel tired, hurt and raw.  So I will revisit this in the future.  In the meantime, I will take nothing for granted.

* Just in case, I've quit coffee anyway.  It had just become a habit after I had kids.  I never used to drink it.  To my knowledge, I've never experienced withdrawal symptoms from anything.  After hearing how bad they are, I have no desire to.