We knew we'd reached a part of town where they do things differently when upon arrival in the carpark of the Seabrook Community Centre the first thing we saw was this sign:
We were very relieved when other workshop participants heeded the sign and brought their annoying children inside, where they proceeded to eat all of the tiny teddies that were supposed to be shared amongst the entire group. I'll refrain from saying anything more about that.
Instead, what made the trip worth it, was that I won the lucky door prize! It was a very handy set of gardening tools that were just my size!
To date, I haven't really been that interested in growing vegetables, apart from the odd cherry tomato plant and herbs that I've tried (and failed) to keep alive over the years. The guy that ran the seminar (from Very Edible Gardens) made it sound like an excellent idea, though, so I immediately determined that I wanted to design and grow my very own edible oasis. Or, rather, because I'm lazy and don't really trust my soil identification skills, I want him to come and implement one for me so I can just enjoy looking at it and tending to my rapid, abundant harvest. I want my garden to look as spectacular as some of the examples he showed us, but when I got home and priced his services on the internet, I realised that I can't afford to employ him and will probably have to resort to growing tomatoes and various tea-making herbs in a pot again. Sigh. If you had the spare money, though, I think it would be well worth getting these guys in!
Kate and I breakfasted in Yarraville beforehand, which is far out of usual zone, but it was very pleasant at Wee Jeanie's and not too overcrowded even though there was some kind of yippee festival going on (yippees are apparently what Mark calls rich hippies - hybrid creatures that are part yuppy, part hippy). At the yippee festival, however, I saw for the second time that week, a woman with my pram, except that hers had an actual baby in it and mine very obviously does not. Those little things really get to me and jolt unexpectedly right through my heart.
At breakfast, neither Kate nor I had our 3000 words to show, which should not have been that surprising as we both suck at sticking to things that are hard, even though they are often the things we want to do/achieve most of all. Kate was on the verge of giving up, having had a rough week where she'd fallen off the bandwagon of many of her newly-implemented good habits, such as rising at the same hour each day (very good for sleep hygiene) and riding her exercise bike, both of which had begun to make her feel happier and more energised.
Kate and I are very similar in the way that we both have grand imaginations and can picture in every detail how we want our lives to be, except that reality very rarely matches those images. We are also both notoriously black and white thinkers and not fans of this thing people call moderation. Thereby, when we don't immediately reach our goals or encounter a problem, we tend to give up and walk away at the first warning that failure might be a possibility. As a result, we alternate between being gloriously happy and excited about the dawning of new endeavours and depressed, hopeless and irritable when we give up despite our best initial intentions.
If our usual practice prevailed, that would be the end of our novels. But I've learned over the last couple of months the value of a quality called persistence - the practice of picking yourself up after a fall and setting about trying again. It's a quality you see all the time in young children, but one we (and probably lots of other people) seem to have lost as adults. I am a trained primary school teacher and in classrooms and in the playground you can learn a lot about how children persist in all manner of activities without even giving it a second thought. They expect failure, not mastery, when they try something for the first time, so it's not a big deal when they don't get things right. They just try to do it better next time. What a novel concept, huh?! Somewhere along the way we have developed the perception that we need to succeed the first time, no matter how daunting the undertaking we set ourselves.
From the day Max died I have had to learn to persist whether I've liked it or not. If I did not have some inner belief that I would feel better, or cope more easily the next day then I would not be able to put one foot in front of the other to get through the last two months, two weeks and five days as I have. I would not have survived. I am enduring only because I realised that I don't have to be OK all the time, or any of the time. I don't have to get over this and I don't have to feel miraculously better. All I have to do is keep going, no matter how small the steps.
That is what I said to Kate - you must persist! Except I made her cry! She said it was because she didn't like how ugly the word 'persist' is, but I think it's because she's been feeling as fed up with the world and her place in it as I have. But Kate, when you're happy, I'm happy, so that's a good enough reason to try again, right?! The truth is that I've got no motivation to try and make things better if Kate gives up, so everyone who is reading this blog (all 2.3 of you) have got a vested interest in helping Kate achieve her goals and take action on her plans!
You can begin by keeping your eye out for her burgeoning greeting card business on Etsy (details soon!) You will be able to stock up on clever cards and gather wit for all conceivable occasions for the rest of 2012 or for the rest of your life if you're into making advance orders!
Now, what, you maybe asking, am I doing this week to help myself keep trying? Well, three things, actually.
- Walking for a little bit further each day. Today I went for a walk around the tan and kept going despite the fact that less than 500 metres in I realised I was the ugliest and whitest person on the circuit and that I was the only one wearing normal trackpants and not fancy lycra workout gear that wicks away sweat and soothes your muscles. Those things in themselves would be enough to send even a mildly self-conscious person power walking to the nearest botanical sculpture for camouflage. Far more affronting to my sensitive heart was the number of yummy mummies jogging around the track behind designer prams holding gorgeous sleeping babies (and I don't mean in the eternally sleeping kind of way). I walk the last half of the track with tears streaming down my face, but I made it to the end and felt like I'd achieved something positive despite the emotional breakdown I afterwards suffered on Domain Road. I thinking of going back, too, and doing this walk on Monday and Wednesday mornings after work, but next time I may borrow some blinkers from some of my horse friends to make the view a little easier to bear.
- This week I will also finish revamping my website. I want to start building up my freelance work again as it's been a rough start to the year at my part time job and I've had fantasies of getting the hell out of there for good.
- I will keep writing. Even if I only write 500 words a week instead of 3000. Remember the story of the hare and the tortoise? Yeah, that!
In short, giving up is not an option! For this week at least...
