WINTER EDITION 2012
STREET KID FINDS HER SPARKLE
According to the usual script, I should be living on the streets, in jail, on drugs or dead. I tick all the boxes when it comes to risk factors, having experienced no mum throughout my life, bought up in housing commission, child sexual abuse, 13 and living in a shed, 15 and pregnant, 19 with 2 babies and homeless, 21 with 3 kids and living in a domestic violent relationship.
But remarkably I managed to defy the odds in a spectacular way, through following my passion.
Growing up without my Mum was difficult in many ways. I missed out on all those mother-daughter chats, even the one about the birds and the bees. I wasn’t aware of the consequences of having sex and I didn’t know the symptoms of pregnancy. I had no idea I was pregnant for quite a while.
Dad was standing in the kitchen showing me the hernia on his great big belly. I could see a sizeable lump and said ‘Yeah, I have one of those on my belly too Dad’. Dad thought I had better get it checked out, so as I was a very independent girl I took myself off to the doctors to ask them to help me with my hernia. Of course it turned out that my hernia was a baby; I was pregnant. I had no concept of what that would mean, so I just went home and gave the test results to Dad.
My boyfriend’s parents arranged a meeting with Dad to discuss our situation. However Dad had already decided that I would keep the baby and he would support me in raising the child. My boyfriend’s parents knew it was the wrong decision but they were powerless to stop us.
I had no-one to talk to about the pregnancy and didn’t have regular checkups with the doctor, so I just continued on as normal. I went to school, played on the slides and swings at the park, climbed trees and acted as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. I continued at school until two weeks before the baby was born and only finished then because it was the December school holidays.
One day I was out riding the trusty old bike that I had found on the rubbish. I was about eight and a half months pregnant, riding my little heart out. I came across my boyfriend’s parents in their car and stopped to chat, asking if they knew where my boyfriend was. I look back now and wonder what would have been going through their heads, seeing me riding along heavily pregnant without a care in the world. I eventually found my boyfriend at our hide out up in the tree house, so I hopped off my bike and scrambled right up there with him.
Right at the end of the pregnancy, my friends and I were walking through a shopping centre car park. I decided it would be funny to do a football leap onto the back of one of the girls. Little did I realise my friend could see my reflection in the shop window. She ducked when she saw what I was up to, and I went flying over the top of her and fell on the concrete, straight onto my heavily pregnant stomach. People came running from all over to help, but I just got up and acted like nothing had happened.
I suppose I didn’t really comprehend what was happening to me.
Josh was born in the December school holidays. I had just turned sixteen. I struggled with looking after the baby. Josh must have felt that I was not settled and would cry all night. My boyfriend was also only sixteen and he had no idea what was happening, let alone how to care for a baby.
Looking back, I realise that I may have had post natal depression, however in everyone else’s eyes I was just an angry young girl. I tried my hardest to be the best Mum I could be with the few resources I had.
Dad’s was a Housing Commission house, with people coming and going all the time. There was no routine and it was a very difficult environment to bring a baby into. There were so many dirty dishes stacked up in the kitchen that I couldn’t sterilise Josh’s bottles unless I cleared the dishes first.
It took me a long time to accept my new responsibility. Sometimes I would put Josh to sleep and go out the back to the shed to hang out with my friends. My stepmum would call me when he woke up but I was full of resentment, thinking ‘Yeah so what, why don’t you feed him?’ I would bring Josh out to the shed to feed him, surrounded by my friends drinking, smoking and listening to loud music. I had no comprehension that a baby needed a beautiful, nurturing, peaceful feeding experience.
The Day I Discovered My Passion
I remember the day I discovered my passion as if it were yesterday. I was eight years old and walking to the milk bar for an ice-cream with Dad on a warm summer’s night.
As we walked I saw flashing lights and heard the siren of a police car. Naturally I was curious and ran to see what was happening. There was a man bleeding to death in the middle of the road; he’d been hit by a car. I remember the police telling everybody to move away, but I stood there transfixed. It hit me that ten minutes before he had been a living, breathing human being and now he lay dead on the road.
The police put a white sheet over the body and Dad told me to come away. I wanted to stay and watch but Dad said no. I asked Dad what would happen to him and he said that a funeral director would arrange the burial. When I realised that there was someone who was responsible to care for this man after such a horrible death I knew I had found my passion. At the age of eight I knew I wanted to be a funeral director and eventually own by own funeral business!
From then on I started studying funeral directors, looking at funeral directors, reading about funeral directors. I even debated becoming a client of a funeral director to find out more!
But as life went by my situations changed and my passion took the wrong direction.
My dream started when I was twenty one years old and living in a violent relationship. I was lost, had no real friends, was angry, lonely and her children were suffering. My self esteem was gone and I had really hit the bottom of the black hole, I also had three children aged five, two, and four months old to care for.
One night after yet another violent argument with my partner, I found myself at the Royal Children’s Hospital. My son had been admitted after being physically hurt. It was 2am and there I was, crammed into a little room with my three children, officers from the Department of Human Services, some Federal Police and a few staff from the hospital. They questioned me for a very long time about the relationship I was living in, and how my son was hurt. I was grilled about why I was staying in this abusive relationship and why I was putting my children through it all.
After a couple of hours of this I was asked to leave the room. I sat out in the waiting room until eventually they called me back in. I was told that I had to get myself and my children out of the situation I was in. All the authorities who were represented in that room had discussed my situation and as of today I had two choices. My first choice was that I could stay in the relationship and have my three children placed into foster care. I remembers dropping to my knees begging them not to take my children from me. Then they offered the second choice.
If I took the second choice I could keep my children but the condition was I must change my life. The conditions were that, beginning immediately,I would be court ordered to not have anything to do with my violent partner for twelve weeks. In those twelve weeks, I would have to attend a domestic violence counsellor. I wanted desperately to keep my children but couldn’t see how I could possibly change my life. That night I was forced to make the best choice of my whole life.
That night the dream began.
I wanted to know more about successful women. Why were they so confident and successful when I wasn’t? What was their secret? I became obsessed with learning everything I could about successful women and with each learning, I realised more and more that I was just as good as these women. I could become just as successful as they were if I wanted to, I had no more excuses. It was up to me.
I pursued my dream of becoming a Funeral Director and after many years of knocking on doors, writing applications, and weathering knock backs I did get a full time position as a funeral director and was able to realise my passion.
The irony of this is that only a couple of months after I became a funeral director I had to resign to help my son with the after effects of living in a violent relationship. My son aged 10 wanted to commit suicide. However even this was a blessing in disguise as I had to find something that would allow me to work and also be there for my son. My friend and now partner David had a little hobby sticker making business that he worked in on weekends. I saw an opportunity and asked Dave if I could run the business and turn it into a fully functioning business. With no sales or marketing experience within 12 months of building the business I managed to win printing jobs with companies such as BHP Billiton, Coles/Myer, Clive Peeters, Autopro and many more turning the business from making $100 worth of sales per month to a whopping $100,000 per month and within 6 months moving into a factory an achievement that won me a nomination in last year’s (2011) Telstra Women in Business Awards. Completing my first book in a short 6 months which has been endorsed by Brian Tracy, you can be sure that if it’s on my to-do list, it will get DONE!
Fasts forward 10 years…
Often referred to as the “dynamite” by colleagues, clients and friends and recently featured on A Current Affairs, The Circle, The Kerri-Anne Show, The ABC’s 7:30 Report, The Age, The Herald Sun, BRW magazine and many more, I am living proof that if you are powered by passion all things are possible.
I am now 33 years old, have five wonderful children aged 18, 14, 12, 4 and 3, and a beautiful and supportive partner. I live in my dream home by the beach, am an author and speaker. The most exciting part of my life right now is being an Ambassador for the Lighthouse Foundation and Brave heart Foundation.
For further information, contact:
Stacey Currie, Melbourne Australia
www.staceycurrie.com
Ph: 0409 554 993
03 9775 1130
But remarkably I managed to defy the odds in a spectacular way, through following my passion.
Growing up without my Mum was difficult in many ways. I missed out on all those mother-daughter chats, even the one about the birds and the bees. I wasn’t aware of the consequences of having sex and I didn’t know the symptoms of pregnancy. I had no idea I was pregnant for quite a while.
Dad was standing in the kitchen showing me the hernia on his great big belly. I could see a sizeable lump and said ‘Yeah, I have one of those on my belly too Dad’. Dad thought I had better get it checked out, so as I was a very independent girl I took myself off to the doctors to ask them to help me with my hernia. Of course it turned out that my hernia was a baby; I was pregnant. I had no concept of what that would mean, so I just went home and gave the test results to Dad.
My boyfriend’s parents arranged a meeting with Dad to discuss our situation. However Dad had already decided that I would keep the baby and he would support me in raising the child. My boyfriend’s parents knew it was the wrong decision but they were powerless to stop us.
I had no-one to talk to about the pregnancy and didn’t have regular checkups with the doctor, so I just continued on as normal. I went to school, played on the slides and swings at the park, climbed trees and acted as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. I continued at school until two weeks before the baby was born and only finished then because it was the December school holidays.
One day I was out riding the trusty old bike that I had found on the rubbish. I was about eight and a half months pregnant, riding my little heart out. I came across my boyfriend’s parents in their car and stopped to chat, asking if they knew where my boyfriend was. I look back now and wonder what would have been going through their heads, seeing me riding along heavily pregnant without a care in the world. I eventually found my boyfriend at our hide out up in the tree house, so I hopped off my bike and scrambled right up there with him.
Right at the end of the pregnancy, my friends and I were walking through a shopping centre car park. I decided it would be funny to do a football leap onto the back of one of the girls. Little did I realise my friend could see my reflection in the shop window. She ducked when she saw what I was up to, and I went flying over the top of her and fell on the concrete, straight onto my heavily pregnant stomach. People came running from all over to help, but I just got up and acted like nothing had happened.
I suppose I didn’t really comprehend what was happening to me.
Josh was born in the December school holidays. I had just turned sixteen. I struggled with looking after the baby. Josh must have felt that I was not settled and would cry all night. My boyfriend was also only sixteen and he had no idea what was happening, let alone how to care for a baby.
Looking back, I realise that I may have had post natal depression, however in everyone else’s eyes I was just an angry young girl. I tried my hardest to be the best Mum I could be with the few resources I had.
Dad’s was a Housing Commission house, with people coming and going all the time. There was no routine and it was a very difficult environment to bring a baby into. There were so many dirty dishes stacked up in the kitchen that I couldn’t sterilise Josh’s bottles unless I cleared the dishes first.
It took me a long time to accept my new responsibility. Sometimes I would put Josh to sleep and go out the back to the shed to hang out with my friends. My stepmum would call me when he woke up but I was full of resentment, thinking ‘Yeah so what, why don’t you feed him?’ I would bring Josh out to the shed to feed him, surrounded by my friends drinking, smoking and listening to loud music. I had no comprehension that a baby needed a beautiful, nurturing, peaceful feeding experience.
The Day I Discovered My Passion
I remember the day I discovered my passion as if it were yesterday. I was eight years old and walking to the milk bar for an ice-cream with Dad on a warm summer’s night.
As we walked I saw flashing lights and heard the siren of a police car. Naturally I was curious and ran to see what was happening. There was a man bleeding to death in the middle of the road; he’d been hit by a car. I remember the police telling everybody to move away, but I stood there transfixed. It hit me that ten minutes before he had been a living, breathing human being and now he lay dead on the road.
The police put a white sheet over the body and Dad told me to come away. I wanted to stay and watch but Dad said no. I asked Dad what would happen to him and he said that a funeral director would arrange the burial. When I realised that there was someone who was responsible to care for this man after such a horrible death I knew I had found my passion. At the age of eight I knew I wanted to be a funeral director and eventually own by own funeral business!
From then on I started studying funeral directors, looking at funeral directors, reading about funeral directors. I even debated becoming a client of a funeral director to find out more!
But as life went by my situations changed and my passion took the wrong direction.
My dream started when I was twenty one years old and living in a violent relationship. I was lost, had no real friends, was angry, lonely and her children were suffering. My self esteem was gone and I had really hit the bottom of the black hole, I also had three children aged five, two, and four months old to care for.
One night after yet another violent argument with my partner, I found myself at the Royal Children’s Hospital. My son had been admitted after being physically hurt. It was 2am and there I was, crammed into a little room with my three children, officers from the Department of Human Services, some Federal Police and a few staff from the hospital. They questioned me for a very long time about the relationship I was living in, and how my son was hurt. I was grilled about why I was staying in this abusive relationship and why I was putting my children through it all.
After a couple of hours of this I was asked to leave the room. I sat out in the waiting room until eventually they called me back in. I was told that I had to get myself and my children out of the situation I was in. All the authorities who were represented in that room had discussed my situation and as of today I had two choices. My first choice was that I could stay in the relationship and have my three children placed into foster care. I remembers dropping to my knees begging them not to take my children from me. Then they offered the second choice.
If I took the second choice I could keep my children but the condition was I must change my life. The conditions were that, beginning immediately,I would be court ordered to not have anything to do with my violent partner for twelve weeks. In those twelve weeks, I would have to attend a domestic violence counsellor. I wanted desperately to keep my children but couldn’t see how I could possibly change my life. That night I was forced to make the best choice of my whole life.
That night the dream began.
I wanted to know more about successful women. Why were they so confident and successful when I wasn’t? What was their secret? I became obsessed with learning everything I could about successful women and with each learning, I realised more and more that I was just as good as these women. I could become just as successful as they were if I wanted to, I had no more excuses. It was up to me.
I pursued my dream of becoming a Funeral Director and after many years of knocking on doors, writing applications, and weathering knock backs I did get a full time position as a funeral director and was able to realise my passion.
The irony of this is that only a couple of months after I became a funeral director I had to resign to help my son with the after effects of living in a violent relationship. My son aged 10 wanted to commit suicide. However even this was a blessing in disguise as I had to find something that would allow me to work and also be there for my son. My friend and now partner David had a little hobby sticker making business that he worked in on weekends. I saw an opportunity and asked Dave if I could run the business and turn it into a fully functioning business. With no sales or marketing experience within 12 months of building the business I managed to win printing jobs with companies such as BHP Billiton, Coles/Myer, Clive Peeters, Autopro and many more turning the business from making $100 worth of sales per month to a whopping $100,000 per month and within 6 months moving into a factory an achievement that won me a nomination in last year’s (2011) Telstra Women in Business Awards. Completing my first book in a short 6 months which has been endorsed by Brian Tracy, you can be sure that if it’s on my to-do list, it will get DONE!
Fasts forward 10 years…
Often referred to as the “dynamite” by colleagues, clients and friends and recently featured on A Current Affairs, The Circle, The Kerri-Anne Show, The ABC’s 7:30 Report, The Age, The Herald Sun, BRW magazine and many more, I am living proof that if you are powered by passion all things are possible.
I am now 33 years old, have five wonderful children aged 18, 14, 12, 4 and 3, and a beautiful and supportive partner. I live in my dream home by the beach, am an author and speaker. The most exciting part of my life right now is being an Ambassador for the Lighthouse Foundation and Brave heart Foundation.
For further information, contact:
Stacey Currie, Melbourne Australia
www.staceycurrie.com
Ph: 0409 554 993
03 9775 1130
By Teresa Bassham
8th June 2012
8th June 2012
CARER. BUSINESS WOMAN. HERO
Kylie Mowbray-Allen is a person who her friends and local community are always amazed by her capacity for positivity. Kylie’s idilic life dramatically changed in 2007 when her daughter was four years old, she had two miscarriages, and her husband Richie had an accident playing amateur rugby, rendering him a complete quadriplegic, unable to move or feel his body from the nipple down.
After his accident Richie spent 11 months in the spinal injury unit in Brisbane, at Princess Alexandra Hospital, and daughter Clover and Kylie moved to Brisbane. Clover, most unhappily, to start pre-school full time, so that Kylie could be at the hospital every day, learning the intricacies of how to care for Richie for the rest of his life.
A spinal cord injury is as bad as it gets,and you might think that the biggest problem would be that you can no longer walk or feed yourself. In fact, it's the constant struggle with a bowel and bladder that won't work; skin that no longer regenerates cells so any seam from Richie’s shorts can cause pressure-marks; the big issues of how to get in and out of your house; no longer being able to get into a normal car; the equipment required just to get in and out of bed; into a shower/toileting chair; overnight drinking systems so that Kylie is not waking every hour; and a myriad of other issues, both small and very large, that make life as complicated, stressful, anxiety-riddled and worrisome as you'd ever imagined it could be.
There was no compensation payout from this accident, and it was pretty clear to Kylie early on that she would need to be the family bread winner but that she couldn't go out to work. After two and a half years of pondering this; overseeing the building of a purpose-built house for the family with money that came from community fundraising;and moving back to their beloved Bangalow; two weeks after they moved into their new home, Kylie took over Nic-Nac Nappywrap.
Kylie had known of the business for five years, as she had used a Nic-Nac Nappywrap for Clover when she was a baby and loved the product. She knew that with her background in writing, marketing and film production, she could take the business to the next level with online marketing; but do it all from home, aside from doing local markets a twice a month. What Kylie didn’t know about manufacturing, wasn't an immediate problem, as there was a sewer and cutter in place, so she would simply have the fun job of choosing fabrics. How wrong she was! After a couple of weeks, the existing sewer and cutter needed to be replaced, and the challenge of working and being a full-time carer, started to look a little impossible. Kylie is not one to shy away from a seemingly impossible challenge. she dove head-first into sorting out the manufacturing issues, worked with a web developer to build a fantastic new website, expanded the product range, attended her first trade show, and pregnancy and babies expo's around the country. Kylie’s business has grown and flourished providing her with a great sense of achievement against more obstacles that are usually thrown at a small business in a depressed economy!
Even with all the challenges of being a full time carer, Mum and running a small business, Kylie has taught Ballroom and Latin American dancing, a couple of nights a week. While dancing is her passion, to manage her stressful life, she maintains it's imperative that she exercises. When she’s working, she’s in work mode, when it's time to switch hats, then she is fully present as a Mum, wife and carer, dance teacher and volunteer organiser for the Bangalow Business Women’s Networking Group.
What makes Kylie truly uniquely is her approach to life in general, she says “ Nearly losing my husband, I now feel grateful that we still have him in our lives, and having only one child, I'm determined to enjoy the moments that I can with her as she's growing so fast”. For Kylie, family comes first, appreciating the moments, and that "there is always, always, always something to be thankful for." As Kylie says, the opportunity to be actively involved in her daughter's life, care for her husband; and work in a business that she is passionate about - is a wondrous life. Sometimes challenging, but always worthwhile.
Visit Nic-Nac http://www.nic-nac.com.au/ for a great range of products for babies and children.
Article created from an interview with Kylie Mowbray-Allen by Zenworkz Authentic Marketing
Photo: Richie Allen, Kylie Mowbray-Allen and Clover - named because she was born on St Patricks Day!
After his accident Richie spent 11 months in the spinal injury unit in Brisbane, at Princess Alexandra Hospital, and daughter Clover and Kylie moved to Brisbane. Clover, most unhappily, to start pre-school full time, so that Kylie could be at the hospital every day, learning the intricacies of how to care for Richie for the rest of his life.
A spinal cord injury is as bad as it gets,and you might think that the biggest problem would be that you can no longer walk or feed yourself. In fact, it's the constant struggle with a bowel and bladder that won't work; skin that no longer regenerates cells so any seam from Richie’s shorts can cause pressure-marks; the big issues of how to get in and out of your house; no longer being able to get into a normal car; the equipment required just to get in and out of bed; into a shower/toileting chair; overnight drinking systems so that Kylie is not waking every hour; and a myriad of other issues, both small and very large, that make life as complicated, stressful, anxiety-riddled and worrisome as you'd ever imagined it could be.
There was no compensation payout from this accident, and it was pretty clear to Kylie early on that she would need to be the family bread winner but that she couldn't go out to work. After two and a half years of pondering this; overseeing the building of a purpose-built house for the family with money that came from community fundraising;and moving back to their beloved Bangalow; two weeks after they moved into their new home, Kylie took over Nic-Nac Nappywrap.
Kylie had known of the business for five years, as she had used a Nic-Nac Nappywrap for Clover when she was a baby and loved the product. She knew that with her background in writing, marketing and film production, she could take the business to the next level with online marketing; but do it all from home, aside from doing local markets a twice a month. What Kylie didn’t know about manufacturing, wasn't an immediate problem, as there was a sewer and cutter in place, so she would simply have the fun job of choosing fabrics. How wrong she was! After a couple of weeks, the existing sewer and cutter needed to be replaced, and the challenge of working and being a full-time carer, started to look a little impossible. Kylie is not one to shy away from a seemingly impossible challenge. she dove head-first into sorting out the manufacturing issues, worked with a web developer to build a fantastic new website, expanded the product range, attended her first trade show, and pregnancy and babies expo's around the country. Kylie’s business has grown and flourished providing her with a great sense of achievement against more obstacles that are usually thrown at a small business in a depressed economy!
Even with all the challenges of being a full time carer, Mum and running a small business, Kylie has taught Ballroom and Latin American dancing, a couple of nights a week. While dancing is her passion, to manage her stressful life, she maintains it's imperative that she exercises. When she’s working, she’s in work mode, when it's time to switch hats, then she is fully present as a Mum, wife and carer, dance teacher and volunteer organiser for the Bangalow Business Women’s Networking Group.
What makes Kylie truly uniquely is her approach to life in general, she says “ Nearly losing my husband, I now feel grateful that we still have him in our lives, and having only one child, I'm determined to enjoy the moments that I can with her as she's growing so fast”. For Kylie, family comes first, appreciating the moments, and that "there is always, always, always something to be thankful for." As Kylie says, the opportunity to be actively involved in her daughter's life, care for her husband; and work in a business that she is passionate about - is a wondrous life. Sometimes challenging, but always worthwhile.
Visit Nic-Nac http://www.nic-nac.com.au/ for a great range of products for babies and children.
Article created from an interview with Kylie Mowbray-Allen by Zenworkz Authentic Marketing
Photo: Richie Allen, Kylie Mowbray-Allen and Clover - named because she was born on St Patricks Day!
By Marian Wheatland
8th June 2012
8th June 2012
LEFT BEHIND
As he struggled over the last icy hill, Douglas Mawson prayed that he would be in time for rescue. Dragging the now half-sized sled that carried his pitiful supplies, pulling hard with emaciated arms, stepping gingerly with cracked and bleeding feet, the deaths of his two companions, Ninnis and Mertz, were fresh and foremost in his mind. Squinting against the glare of sunlight on blue snow, Mawson saw - yes, I think…., yes!-a tiny ship out on the horizon…..and it was….. LEAVING!
Months before, in early November, the three scientists had loaded their sleds with enough food, fuel and supplies for the three months they would be away from what passed for “Civilization” here in Antarctica. Taking canvas tents and reindeer sleeping bags, tools and measuring equipment, as well as all their food, they planned to be away long enough to calculate and measure all the way around to the Far East coast, mapping and collecting geological samples. In ideal conditions, they covered 30km in a day, but more often than not they were battling storms, navigating crevasses or holed up in their tents waiting out the latest blizzard.
By 12th December, they had covered 480kms, suffered a damaged sled and repacked all that gear onto the other 2 sleds. Deciding it was time to turn back to Main Base if they were to be in time to be collected, the three men began the return journey. They had developed a special routine of careful travel that proved to be successful for taking dogs and sleds across crevasses – by taking a diagonal line, the shortest line, the danger was minimized. Not this time.
Looking back to give a warning for a hidden crevasse, Mertz could not see Ninnis anywhere. Mawson, recording calculations at the time, had heard a dog whimper.
Mertz and Mawson both ran back to where Ninnis should have been, but only two lines of sled runner was visible. The lines ended at the edge of the hole. Ninnis, most of the supplies and the best dogs had been swallowed into the cold, black, frozen depths of Antarctica, well beyond the reach of help – and life.
Mawson and Mertz were left to face the return journey not only mourning for their friend but also without essential equipment and tools. Racing back to the abandoned broken sled, they retrieved the tent cover and shovel. However, most of the food for themselves and the dogs was now at the bottom of the crevasse –To survive, they would have to eat the dogs!
Turning again for Main Base, Mertz and Mawson were now 180 km form the disaster zone, and 300km from Base, feeding dogs to the dogs, and having to eat dog themselves. Mertz became ill, and though Mawson nursed him and tried to encourage him, Mertz succumbed to death, leaving Mawson to travel on alone.
Mawson cut the sled in half. He abandoned some of the equipment. He focused on his obligation to the Expedition and to his fiancé, Paquita. Barely surviving on starvation rations, there were many times when his body protested this treatment. He had a dry mouth, skin peeling off in sheets, the soles of his feet came off with his socks, yet he was determined to achieve Main Base.
Suspended from a rope attached to the sled, dangling into the blackness of the latest crevasse, Mawson’s diary tells of how easy he thought it would be to just let the rope go. His anger at being cheated out of the last of the food motivated him to climb to the top edge of the ice, but he slipped again down into the depths. This time, he remembered how God had brought him, miraculously, alive to this point, and decided to make the last supreme effort to continue.
The rope ladder that he fashioned and hooked to the sled and to his shoulder saved him many more times that next day and other days. By devising and revising plans and ideas, by learning from each circumstance, Mawson achieved one small goal at a time. He did this while fighting the weather, the temperature, starvation, thirst and the disintegration of his body.
On 29th January, Mawson came across a big, black, snow mound which had been built only that morning, according to the note inside. It had been 6 weeks since the death of Ninnis, and Mawson had been alone for more than half of that time so reading the note penned that morning was to have a living connection to humanity, with all its good news of the ship arriving and safe teams and only 34kms to travel to the Aladdin’s Cave Depot.
Reinforced by the food from the timely black mound and the knowledge of “Civilization” relatively close by, Mawson began to travel the 34kms to the Cave. Arriving just ahead of the next blizzard, which lasted for 5 days, Mawson was now well supplied for food and for improvising some essential equipment he would need for the last 12km of the journey back to Main Base: his crampons and some brakes for the sled.
On the 8th of February, as he struggled over the last icy hill, Douglas Mawson prayed that he would be in time for rescue. Dragging the now half-sized sled that carried his pitiful supplies, pulling hard with emaciated arms, stepping gingerly with cracked and bleeding feet, the deaths of his two companions, Ninnis and Mertz, were fresh and foremost in his mind. Squinting against the glare of sunlight on blue snow, Mawson also saw -- Five men working at the Base. When they saw this alien figure on the hill, they rushed up to him, taking this physically fragile, yet amazingly tough man into their care.
Now safe, it was a welcome rescue.
Even today, when you breathe in the chill air of Antarctica, you can feel the liquid cold fill your lungs. It is crisp and clear, yet fresh, and to be relished at every moment. Sharing the same air as the explorers of the last century, you also share their history of unimaginable hardship and triumphant survival. With such influence and inspiration, ordinary people can achieve extraordinary things.”
Marion Wheatland
[email protected]
Months before, in early November, the three scientists had loaded their sleds with enough food, fuel and supplies for the three months they would be away from what passed for “Civilization” here in Antarctica. Taking canvas tents and reindeer sleeping bags, tools and measuring equipment, as well as all their food, they planned to be away long enough to calculate and measure all the way around to the Far East coast, mapping and collecting geological samples. In ideal conditions, they covered 30km in a day, but more often than not they were battling storms, navigating crevasses or holed up in their tents waiting out the latest blizzard.
By 12th December, they had covered 480kms, suffered a damaged sled and repacked all that gear onto the other 2 sleds. Deciding it was time to turn back to Main Base if they were to be in time to be collected, the three men began the return journey. They had developed a special routine of careful travel that proved to be successful for taking dogs and sleds across crevasses – by taking a diagonal line, the shortest line, the danger was minimized. Not this time.
Looking back to give a warning for a hidden crevasse, Mertz could not see Ninnis anywhere. Mawson, recording calculations at the time, had heard a dog whimper.
Mertz and Mawson both ran back to where Ninnis should have been, but only two lines of sled runner was visible. The lines ended at the edge of the hole. Ninnis, most of the supplies and the best dogs had been swallowed into the cold, black, frozen depths of Antarctica, well beyond the reach of help – and life.
Mawson and Mertz were left to face the return journey not only mourning for their friend but also without essential equipment and tools. Racing back to the abandoned broken sled, they retrieved the tent cover and shovel. However, most of the food for themselves and the dogs was now at the bottom of the crevasse –To survive, they would have to eat the dogs!
Turning again for Main Base, Mertz and Mawson were now 180 km form the disaster zone, and 300km from Base, feeding dogs to the dogs, and having to eat dog themselves. Mertz became ill, and though Mawson nursed him and tried to encourage him, Mertz succumbed to death, leaving Mawson to travel on alone.
Mawson cut the sled in half. He abandoned some of the equipment. He focused on his obligation to the Expedition and to his fiancé, Paquita. Barely surviving on starvation rations, there were many times when his body protested this treatment. He had a dry mouth, skin peeling off in sheets, the soles of his feet came off with his socks, yet he was determined to achieve Main Base.
Suspended from a rope attached to the sled, dangling into the blackness of the latest crevasse, Mawson’s diary tells of how easy he thought it would be to just let the rope go. His anger at being cheated out of the last of the food motivated him to climb to the top edge of the ice, but he slipped again down into the depths. This time, he remembered how God had brought him, miraculously, alive to this point, and decided to make the last supreme effort to continue.
The rope ladder that he fashioned and hooked to the sled and to his shoulder saved him many more times that next day and other days. By devising and revising plans and ideas, by learning from each circumstance, Mawson achieved one small goal at a time. He did this while fighting the weather, the temperature, starvation, thirst and the disintegration of his body.
On 29th January, Mawson came across a big, black, snow mound which had been built only that morning, according to the note inside. It had been 6 weeks since the death of Ninnis, and Mawson had been alone for more than half of that time so reading the note penned that morning was to have a living connection to humanity, with all its good news of the ship arriving and safe teams and only 34kms to travel to the Aladdin’s Cave Depot.
Reinforced by the food from the timely black mound and the knowledge of “Civilization” relatively close by, Mawson began to travel the 34kms to the Cave. Arriving just ahead of the next blizzard, which lasted for 5 days, Mawson was now well supplied for food and for improvising some essential equipment he would need for the last 12km of the journey back to Main Base: his crampons and some brakes for the sled.
On the 8th of February, as he struggled over the last icy hill, Douglas Mawson prayed that he would be in time for rescue. Dragging the now half-sized sled that carried his pitiful supplies, pulling hard with emaciated arms, stepping gingerly with cracked and bleeding feet, the deaths of his two companions, Ninnis and Mertz, were fresh and foremost in his mind. Squinting against the glare of sunlight on blue snow, Mawson also saw -- Five men working at the Base. When they saw this alien figure on the hill, they rushed up to him, taking this physically fragile, yet amazingly tough man into their care.
Now safe, it was a welcome rescue.
Even today, when you breathe in the chill air of Antarctica, you can feel the liquid cold fill your lungs. It is crisp and clear, yet fresh, and to be relished at every moment. Sharing the same air as the explorers of the last century, you also share their history of unimaginable hardship and triumphant survival. With such influence and inspiration, ordinary people can achieve extraordinary things.”
Marion Wheatland
[email protected]
By Debbie Burgermeister
8th June 2012
MIRACLES AND HEROES
Hi,
This is our hero story of our Neonatologist and our Twins fight to survive.
Plus our Staff that practically took over our small business and kept it alive.
One amazing person. Dr Luke Jardine, Neonatologist at NICU Mater Mothers Hospital, Brisbane. Luke, thank you for saving their lives. You are an all-round exceptional human being & we are very grateful to have met you.
11 Dec 2009 changed my life when my now 2yrs 5mths twins Jackson & Keira were born early at 25weeks with Keira weighing only 560g. They were so small, they could each fit into Dad's hand.
I was a horse rider since I was 2yrs old so for 34yrs horses have been my number one of which my husband constantly competes with, but when my twins were born NOTHING else mattered. I dedicated myself to expressing for 3 months to be able to give my children the best they needed.
I cried every day I think for 3 months.
Jackson & Keira are true survivors. At birth they were given less than 70% chance of living. And if they lived, there was a 20% chance of a major physical or mental disability. Today there mental alertness is fantastic.
During their first 12 weeks, they were either diagnosed or closely monitoring development of challenges associated with very young premmies; chronic lung disease, hyaline membrane disease, jaundice, anaemia, reflux, hyperglycaemia, hypaglycaemia, retinopathy of prematurity (eye sight), further weight loss at birth, non-closure of heart duct, brain haemorrhaging, hearing and lots more. Each of the above was a battle one after the other at different weeks of their lives. The miracle is that both of our babies fought and won virtually all of these battles.
They came home for the first time on Monday 22 March 2010 after spending their first 102 days of life (nearly 1/3 of a year) in the amazing Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at the Brisbane Mater Mothers' Hospital as well 3 weeks at John Flynn Hospital Gold Coast.
We are so very proud of our babies. They have come a very long way. We would like to thank family, friends, staff and customers for their amazing support for what has been an incredibly difficult time for Mum & Dad.
At the same time as living in Brisbane near our twins we had to keep our Riding School and Home ticking of which we had AMAZING staff with one member living in our home. She even spent Christmas Day searching for our Dog that went missing on this particular day.
A very big thank you goes to the amazing group of doctors and nurses at NICU, a wonderful and dedicated group of people. Thank you for your support, time and amazing care of our children. A big thank you to the wonderful nurse (name unknown but please come forward) who in the wee hours of Xmas morning placed near their cribs 2 Xmas cards; one from Jackson & one from Keira addressed to Mum & Dad. I n them were real ink prints of their tiny feet. That will be a Xmas morning we will never forget for the rest of our lives.
Also thanks to Gaylene and crew at John Flynn Hospital. It was a short but memorable 3 weeks to get us confident to take our tiny babies home.
Kind regards,
Debbie
Debbie & Mark, Jackson and Keira Burgermeister
By Carolyn Koens
8th June 2012
8th June 2012
NO MINIMUM AGE FOR PHILANTHROPY
Good afternoon
I'd like to put forward nine year old Josh Novick for your hero call out.
Sydney Children’s Hospital in Randwick has received a much needed donation boost thanks to an enterprising student at Moriah College, who has chosen to raise money for the hospital through a clever sporting initiative.
Resourceful nine year old student Joshua Novick pledged to raise $2,075 as part of his school’s Moriah to Manly Challenge, swimming 45 kilometres – the distance from the Queens Park‐based school to Manly, over a three week period with a goal to cover 180 laps in the 25 metre school pool.
Joshua completed the 180 laps and exceeded his initial pledge, raising $2,170 in his fundraising efforts from family, friends and the community, whilst acting as an inspiration to other students.
Through his own idea to use the Challenge to raise money for the hospital, Jo sh’s motivation has encouraged his school peers to brainstorm ideas on how they too can get involved in school and community activities in a bid to help sick kids their own age.
Joshua was presented with a giant cheque at his school assembly last week celebrating his hard work and dedication, on behalf of the patients, families and staff at Sydney Children’s Hospital.
“He is an inspiration not only to children his age, but to all of us, for completing a personal and physical challenge to make a difference in the lives of our patients. Congratulations to Josh for raising $2,170 by swimming laps of the pool, and thank you also to his school community, family and friends for their support,” said Adam Check, Chief Executive of Sydney Children’s Hospital Foundation.
Joshua’s father, Mr Dan Novick, Director of The Gold Company, says there will most likely be a time in every child’s life when parents will re ly on the services of the hospital – whether it is a simple infection, broken bone or a more serious illness, which is why regular donations are so vital.
“The staff at Sydney Children’s Hospital work tirelessly for our children and as the only children’s hospital in the radius, it can always greatly benefit from our donations to aid with the building’s expansion and provision of health care equipment for patients and their families,” said Mr Novick.
“Children influence one another – it’s a matter of using this influence positively and constructively that can reap huge benefits for themselves and their community.”
To speak with Josh or to arrange for a photo, please contact me at:
Carolyn Koens at Push Public Relations 0423 626 757 or [email protected]
Thanks for your interest and support in advance.
Warm Regards
Carolyn
By Erin Williams
8th June 2012
BEYOND ACHIEVEMENT
2007 was the point of no return for me.
I'd been big my whole life. From early childhood growing up in Brisbane I'd been chubby and in primary school I was taunted from time to time about my weight. I coped with the taunting. I found a way to manage my way through, but it was hard. I never felt compelled to go and write a book about it or have a cry about what a victim I was, but it was certainly enough for me to feel second rate about myself from that point on.
High school saw me at around 83 kilos. I was fit and healthy, though. I played sport and found in high school that being overweight wasn't something that mattered so much. I had good friends and was popular enough.
However, in the year 2000, I moved from Brisbane to Newcastle to go to university and live with my then boyfriend. At the time, I was young, didn't have a lot of confidence and allowed myself to be manipulated and affected by his hurtful behaviour towards me. He really wasn't a nice person, but being overweight meant I didn't have a lot of confidence, or the ability to stand up for myself and I became really lonely in Newcastle. I missed my family and friends and became a lot less active.
This, coupled with the standard dire poverty of a uni student meant I ate badly. The next time I got on the scales was in 2001, and I had hit 90kgs. I nearly died. I was a solid size 16 and was starting to notice certain things about being fat (and I won’t beat around the bush, I was fat by this stage) that were depressing me.
Trying on clothes in Target or Kmart became an upsetting affair. The mirrors reflecting my arse from every imaginable angle, coupled with the cheap fluorescent lighting perfectly accentuating my cellulite was always a recipe for tears for me.
And then there was my 'not very nice' boyfriend. He began giving me nicknames like “stomper” and the like which only served to make me feel more disgusting.
One day, we were at his mother’s home. His grandmother was there and she began discussing what she would do, should she ever win Lotto. She started talking about it as if it were the only point of interest in her life and going into specific detail as if it were truly likely to happen someday soon. At this point in time, I was going to Weight Watchers and not getting particularly impressive results.
I was feeling down about my weight and Grandma was rattling off all the things she would do for her family with the Lotto money. Cars, houses etc. But when she got to me, she looked me square in the eye and said “Erin, I’d send you to a fat farm.”
Well that was the beginning of a major downward spiral for me. Food, from that day on, became an obsession.
I became anorexic, with a literal fear of food. I obsessed over calories, dropping down to roughly 100 calories per day and fasting other days. This went on for some months, until I dropped to about 79kgs. My 'not very nice’ boyfriend secretly encouraged my disorder and I can still remember to this day laying on the bathroom floor, crying, because I hadn’t lost any weight since the previous day.
I began to develop terrible habits to sabotage my own health and wellbeing. I would chew food and then spit it out. Then I would obsess over whether I had accidentally swallowed any food residue and would starve myself the following day just in case.
It was pure insanity and I eventually mustered up the courage, left the 'not so nice' boyfriend and Newcastle and returned to my family in Brisbane. I was a broken person who had become a master of self deprivation. Back in Brisbane around my family, I slowly began to stop hating my body so much and tried to work towards eating properly again, but I was never the same after that. Because I’d starved myself for so long, the weight crept back on pretty quickly.
Because of my past issues, I tried not to weigh myself. I knew that if I did weigh myself that I’d spiral into another bout of depression and I wanted to avoid that. However, in 2005 I got up the courage to get onto the old scales and I had hit 100kgs. I nearly died. Triple digits.
I ended up doing something far scarier that time. I began abusing laxatives and quickly dropped 10kgs. That was all well and good, until I ended up so ill I could barely stand straight. I was in constant pain and long after I stopped taking the pills, I felt as though I was being stabbed in the stomach. I’d be so dehydrated I would faint from time to time, but I didn’t care.
I was eventually begged to stop by my then partner and coaxed into trying to lose weight the old fashioned way, yet again. I spent months at the gym, Weight Watchers etc. I certainly got fit, however the weight just wouldn’t come off. I lived in this viscious cycle until 2007, dieting, giving up and gaining more weight. Dieting again, giving up and gaining more weight and so on and so on. It consumed me. Although in my heart I always felt like I really wasn’t meant to be fat.
I stopped shopping for clothes in person and stuck to using internet sites. It was far less humiliating and depressing that way. If I did purchase something in person, I would NEVER try it on in the store. I’d bring it home, find it to be too tight and then return it.
Everything was awful for me. I had absolutely zero confidence and I hadn’t allowed a photo to be taken of me in years. If someone even pointed a camera in my direction, I’d lose it. If I unwittingly caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a window, I’d be down for days. I don't know how I lived with the self-emotional torment. I don't know how I coped, but somehow I just did.
The only way I’d ever feel mildly happy was when I was eating garbage. Hungry Jacks, KFC, McDonalds, pizza, you name it, I’d devour it. I literally ballooned.
Finally, something occurred to make me realise I couldn’t go on like this anymore. One night in 2007, as I was consuming a bucket of deep fried KFC, I found a chicken head attached to one of the pieces. I was disgusted and horrified, and immediately called the store manager.
The store manager was neither shocked nor concerned at all and offered me a new bucket of chicken. I lost my temper with him and insisted on a better explanation, which he couldn’t give me.
I was annoyed and alarmed that something like this could happen in today's society - that I could be served a bucket of chicken from a global food chain with a chicken's head in it. News spread among friends and family and the next thing I knew, a television tabloid was on my doorstep insisting I be interviewed about the incident. I tried refusing but they were absolutely insistent. I eventually agreed and the next thing I knew, my massive bulky frame was broadcast across Australia.
And I had become THAT PERSON. The fat woman complaining about the quality of my takeaway.
Seeing myself on television was humiliating. I was absolutely mortified. People closest to me found the entire thing hilarious, but deep down I was so devastated to have been associated with such a thing. And when I saw myself on TV, I realised just how big I was. The tabloid program had taken advantage of me and abused me in order to get more ratings. I was left feeling utterly gutted.
This was the turning point for me. I'd had enough. I had buried myself in fat because I was self indulgent, I had no discipline and I was about as miserable as I could possibly be. That’s when I started investigating alternatives and decided I needed something that would FORCE me to stop eating. I found Bariatric surgery (lap band surgery).
I had the lap band surgery in 2007, weighing in at 127kgs. It changed my life so dramatically that I simply cannot express it in words. At first I was unsure about whether to go through with it. The results weren’t great for everyone, but I decided I would MAKE it work for me, and the surgery went well. There are moments in your life when you know that things are about to change forever. Sometimes these moments are forced upon us for no explicit reason and we're left trying to understand why and how to react. The tabloid program was one of these moments and I was determined to make it count.
Now, in 2012, I am a size 8-10. Anyone who tries to tell me that Bariatric surgery is an easy fix is a good candidate for a verbal undressing from me. It has NOT been easy. Having this surgery has been the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.
A lap band is adjustable, and in that one word, “adjustable” the clue to whether or not one will succeed with weight loss is held. I had to actively force myself to keep the band tightened regularly to continue losing weight.
Over the last 4 years, there have been MANY plateaus and even weight gains because I would “fall off the wagon”. But I got the band because I knew I couldn’t control myself and limiting my food intake was the only way I could succeed. I’ve watched so many others fail to reach their goal weight, and trust me, I understand why. It is so damned hard. But I pushed and pushed.
In 2010, I was down to 90kgs. I was comfortable there, which I suppose is a bit of a trap because having been so much larger, I felt positively svelte at 90kgs.
It was then that I met the love of my life, my husband Shawn. He loved me just as I was, however he was so fit and healthy and stunningly gorgeous that I felt motivated to keep going.
Having a lap band has involved some truly significant sacrifices, however I've had (and still have) the most amazing family and friends who know that going to dinner with me is going to be a carnival sideshow and yet everyone still sits around the table waiting for me to finish my soup long after they've polished off their dessert. But they have been so wonderful and encouraging and have helped me so much along the way.
I’ve also had plenty of naysayers. “Oh you looked better when you were chubby, you were prettier back then, you’ve gotten too thin, you are cheating” etc. Well they can blow that fair out of their backsides. I’ve learnt that sometimes success isn’t necessarily something others like to see. In 2011, I won a modelling competition. I’d gone from being a woman who needed an extender belt at Dreamworld, and who wouldn’t let a camera anywhere near her, to someone who felt so confident and beautiful that I actually sought out those experiences.
Now, I speak publicly about the lap band experience. There is so much to say. There are so many to inspire. I love to talk about how significantly the weight loss has changed my life for the better. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could be so happy with my life. My husband is the most amazing man in the entire world and he has been with me through the final stages of my journey which is so important to me. He has been my rock and he helps me when I have the odd moment of self doubt from time to time.
I was 127kgs. Now I am 57kgs. Unfortunately, my body didn’t snap back into a bikini model at all, which is part of the reason I have undertaken to speaking publicly and helping others. I am working towards having excess skin removal surgery which will be the next stage of my journey. Just recently, I had my first appointment with Doctor Paul Belt about the process and I will be seeing him again soon to progress things. I’m really excited!
There is so much to know about weight loss through bariatric surgery. I encourage anyone wanting to speak with me about it to contact me. If I can help others to feel the way I do, then there is another reason for me to leap out of bed every morning.
But there are three things that I would like to finish by saying and I will never waiver from this:
1. Happiness is not about being thin, it is about loving who you are. I don’t care what size you are, 6 or 30. If you are genuinely happy within yourself and you project that onto others, then you are an absolutely amazing person.
2. Don’t ever, ever judge someone on their physicality. Being large, I know what it’s like to be thought less of because I didn’t look attractive by media standards. Don't allow yourself to do this and never tolerate this mindset in others. If I ever hear the word “ugly,” you can be sure I will let you know how I feel. I lost weight because I wasn’t happy with the way I looked. I revel in finding beauty in everyone.
3. If you do want to make a change, only ever do it for yourself. How you feel about YOU is the ONLY opinion that matters. Don’t do what I did. Don’t let others make you feel less than perfect.
If you are interested in hearing about my journey in more detail, I am available for public speaking, events and private consultation. And I’d be delighted to share the most intimate details of my weight loss success with you.
I'd been big my whole life. From early childhood growing up in Brisbane I'd been chubby and in primary school I was taunted from time to time about my weight. I coped with the taunting. I found a way to manage my way through, but it was hard. I never felt compelled to go and write a book about it or have a cry about what a victim I was, but it was certainly enough for me to feel second rate about myself from that point on.
High school saw me at around 83 kilos. I was fit and healthy, though. I played sport and found in high school that being overweight wasn't something that mattered so much. I had good friends and was popular enough.
However, in the year 2000, I moved from Brisbane to Newcastle to go to university and live with my then boyfriend. At the time, I was young, didn't have a lot of confidence and allowed myself to be manipulated and affected by his hurtful behaviour towards me. He really wasn't a nice person, but being overweight meant I didn't have a lot of confidence, or the ability to stand up for myself and I became really lonely in Newcastle. I missed my family and friends and became a lot less active.
This, coupled with the standard dire poverty of a uni student meant I ate badly. The next time I got on the scales was in 2001, and I had hit 90kgs. I nearly died. I was a solid size 16 and was starting to notice certain things about being fat (and I won’t beat around the bush, I was fat by this stage) that were depressing me.
Trying on clothes in Target or Kmart became an upsetting affair. The mirrors reflecting my arse from every imaginable angle, coupled with the cheap fluorescent lighting perfectly accentuating my cellulite was always a recipe for tears for me.
And then there was my 'not very nice' boyfriend. He began giving me nicknames like “stomper” and the like which only served to make me feel more disgusting.
One day, we were at his mother’s home. His grandmother was there and she began discussing what she would do, should she ever win Lotto. She started talking about it as if it were the only point of interest in her life and going into specific detail as if it were truly likely to happen someday soon. At this point in time, I was going to Weight Watchers and not getting particularly impressive results.
I was feeling down about my weight and Grandma was rattling off all the things she would do for her family with the Lotto money. Cars, houses etc. But when she got to me, she looked me square in the eye and said “Erin, I’d send you to a fat farm.”
Well that was the beginning of a major downward spiral for me. Food, from that day on, became an obsession.
I became anorexic, with a literal fear of food. I obsessed over calories, dropping down to roughly 100 calories per day and fasting other days. This went on for some months, until I dropped to about 79kgs. My 'not very nice’ boyfriend secretly encouraged my disorder and I can still remember to this day laying on the bathroom floor, crying, because I hadn’t lost any weight since the previous day.
I began to develop terrible habits to sabotage my own health and wellbeing. I would chew food and then spit it out. Then I would obsess over whether I had accidentally swallowed any food residue and would starve myself the following day just in case.
It was pure insanity and I eventually mustered up the courage, left the 'not so nice' boyfriend and Newcastle and returned to my family in Brisbane. I was a broken person who had become a master of self deprivation. Back in Brisbane around my family, I slowly began to stop hating my body so much and tried to work towards eating properly again, but I was never the same after that. Because I’d starved myself for so long, the weight crept back on pretty quickly.
Because of my past issues, I tried not to weigh myself. I knew that if I did weigh myself that I’d spiral into another bout of depression and I wanted to avoid that. However, in 2005 I got up the courage to get onto the old scales and I had hit 100kgs. I nearly died. Triple digits.
I ended up doing something far scarier that time. I began abusing laxatives and quickly dropped 10kgs. That was all well and good, until I ended up so ill I could barely stand straight. I was in constant pain and long after I stopped taking the pills, I felt as though I was being stabbed in the stomach. I’d be so dehydrated I would faint from time to time, but I didn’t care.
I was eventually begged to stop by my then partner and coaxed into trying to lose weight the old fashioned way, yet again. I spent months at the gym, Weight Watchers etc. I certainly got fit, however the weight just wouldn’t come off. I lived in this viscious cycle until 2007, dieting, giving up and gaining more weight. Dieting again, giving up and gaining more weight and so on and so on. It consumed me. Although in my heart I always felt like I really wasn’t meant to be fat.
I stopped shopping for clothes in person and stuck to using internet sites. It was far less humiliating and depressing that way. If I did purchase something in person, I would NEVER try it on in the store. I’d bring it home, find it to be too tight and then return it.
Everything was awful for me. I had absolutely zero confidence and I hadn’t allowed a photo to be taken of me in years. If someone even pointed a camera in my direction, I’d lose it. If I unwittingly caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a window, I’d be down for days. I don't know how I lived with the self-emotional torment. I don't know how I coped, but somehow I just did.
The only way I’d ever feel mildly happy was when I was eating garbage. Hungry Jacks, KFC, McDonalds, pizza, you name it, I’d devour it. I literally ballooned.
Finally, something occurred to make me realise I couldn’t go on like this anymore. One night in 2007, as I was consuming a bucket of deep fried KFC, I found a chicken head attached to one of the pieces. I was disgusted and horrified, and immediately called the store manager.
The store manager was neither shocked nor concerned at all and offered me a new bucket of chicken. I lost my temper with him and insisted on a better explanation, which he couldn’t give me.
I was annoyed and alarmed that something like this could happen in today's society - that I could be served a bucket of chicken from a global food chain with a chicken's head in it. News spread among friends and family and the next thing I knew, a television tabloid was on my doorstep insisting I be interviewed about the incident. I tried refusing but they were absolutely insistent. I eventually agreed and the next thing I knew, my massive bulky frame was broadcast across Australia.
And I had become THAT PERSON. The fat woman complaining about the quality of my takeaway.
Seeing myself on television was humiliating. I was absolutely mortified. People closest to me found the entire thing hilarious, but deep down I was so devastated to have been associated with such a thing. And when I saw myself on TV, I realised just how big I was. The tabloid program had taken advantage of me and abused me in order to get more ratings. I was left feeling utterly gutted.
This was the turning point for me. I'd had enough. I had buried myself in fat because I was self indulgent, I had no discipline and I was about as miserable as I could possibly be. That’s when I started investigating alternatives and decided I needed something that would FORCE me to stop eating. I found Bariatric surgery (lap band surgery).
I had the lap band surgery in 2007, weighing in at 127kgs. It changed my life so dramatically that I simply cannot express it in words. At first I was unsure about whether to go through with it. The results weren’t great for everyone, but I decided I would MAKE it work for me, and the surgery went well. There are moments in your life when you know that things are about to change forever. Sometimes these moments are forced upon us for no explicit reason and we're left trying to understand why and how to react. The tabloid program was one of these moments and I was determined to make it count.
Now, in 2012, I am a size 8-10. Anyone who tries to tell me that Bariatric surgery is an easy fix is a good candidate for a verbal undressing from me. It has NOT been easy. Having this surgery has been the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.
A lap band is adjustable, and in that one word, “adjustable” the clue to whether or not one will succeed with weight loss is held. I had to actively force myself to keep the band tightened regularly to continue losing weight.
Over the last 4 years, there have been MANY plateaus and even weight gains because I would “fall off the wagon”. But I got the band because I knew I couldn’t control myself and limiting my food intake was the only way I could succeed. I’ve watched so many others fail to reach their goal weight, and trust me, I understand why. It is so damned hard. But I pushed and pushed.
In 2010, I was down to 90kgs. I was comfortable there, which I suppose is a bit of a trap because having been so much larger, I felt positively svelte at 90kgs.
It was then that I met the love of my life, my husband Shawn. He loved me just as I was, however he was so fit and healthy and stunningly gorgeous that I felt motivated to keep going.
Having a lap band has involved some truly significant sacrifices, however I've had (and still have) the most amazing family and friends who know that going to dinner with me is going to be a carnival sideshow and yet everyone still sits around the table waiting for me to finish my soup long after they've polished off their dessert. But they have been so wonderful and encouraging and have helped me so much along the way.
I’ve also had plenty of naysayers. “Oh you looked better when you were chubby, you were prettier back then, you’ve gotten too thin, you are cheating” etc. Well they can blow that fair out of their backsides. I’ve learnt that sometimes success isn’t necessarily something others like to see. In 2011, I won a modelling competition. I’d gone from being a woman who needed an extender belt at Dreamworld, and who wouldn’t let a camera anywhere near her, to someone who felt so confident and beautiful that I actually sought out those experiences.
Now, I speak publicly about the lap band experience. There is so much to say. There are so many to inspire. I love to talk about how significantly the weight loss has changed my life for the better. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could be so happy with my life. My husband is the most amazing man in the entire world and he has been with me through the final stages of my journey which is so important to me. He has been my rock and he helps me when I have the odd moment of self doubt from time to time.
I was 127kgs. Now I am 57kgs. Unfortunately, my body didn’t snap back into a bikini model at all, which is part of the reason I have undertaken to speaking publicly and helping others. I am working towards having excess skin removal surgery which will be the next stage of my journey. Just recently, I had my first appointment with Doctor Paul Belt about the process and I will be seeing him again soon to progress things. I’m really excited!
There is so much to know about weight loss through bariatric surgery. I encourage anyone wanting to speak with me about it to contact me. If I can help others to feel the way I do, then there is another reason for me to leap out of bed every morning.
But there are three things that I would like to finish by saying and I will never waiver from this:
1. Happiness is not about being thin, it is about loving who you are. I don’t care what size you are, 6 or 30. If you are genuinely happy within yourself and you project that onto others, then you are an absolutely amazing person.
2. Don’t ever, ever judge someone on their physicality. Being large, I know what it’s like to be thought less of because I didn’t look attractive by media standards. Don't allow yourself to do this and never tolerate this mindset in others. If I ever hear the word “ugly,” you can be sure I will let you know how I feel. I lost weight because I wasn’t happy with the way I looked. I revel in finding beauty in everyone.
3. If you do want to make a change, only ever do it for yourself. How you feel about YOU is the ONLY opinion that matters. Don’t do what I did. Don’t let others make you feel less than perfect.
If you are interested in hearing about my journey in more detail, I am available for public speaking, events and private consultation. And I’d be delighted to share the most intimate details of my weight loss success with you.
By Katrina Zaslavsky
8th June 2012
8th June 2012
EMPOWERING BIRTH
My own personal experiences have changed my life and allowed me to change other womens' lives around the world through my new book A Modern Woman's Guide to a Natural Empowering Birth, (also as a magazine columnist, Natural Parenting Melbourne committee member and empowering resources via my Inspiring Birth Stories website and facebook community.)
Like most modern women, I was filled with fear and anxiety (terrified actually!) as well as positive anticipation as a first-time mother-to-be. Yet I was committed to going natural all the way and consciously worked through my fears during my nine months in waiting and transformed my experience from being absolutely terrified of the birth process to feeling at peace, having complete trust in birth and my body and actually looking forward to the big event!
The result? Two incred ibly life changing, fear-free, drug- free and virtually pain- free births to my beautiful girls!!! It also gave me a sense of inner strength, courage and confidence like I could take on the world. Giving birth as nature intended is one of my greatest achievements by far and I will carry this feeling with me for the rest of my life.
My personal journey into motherhood and the birth lessons I have gained along the way, have had such a profound impact on me, that it has led me on a whole new pathway: to become an advocate of natural and conscious parenting, committed to supporting women in bloom to give birth naturally without drugs or interventions (if that is what they choose) and to overcome their fears about birthing in a world that has become so medicalised and fearful of something so perfectly natural.
As a natural mother, formerly a public health professional, founder of Inspired Wellness and more recently Inspiring Birth Stories, together with a li felong passion for healthy living, my calling is to awaken people around the world to live a more natural, conscious lifestyle and empower women to discover their inner birth goddess!.
I am so inspired to walk this path personally and professionally.
Thank you for the opportunity to share and inspire other women!
Kindest Regards
Katrina
Inspiring Birth Stories
Learn more about the book and view TV interview:
http://shop.inspiringbirthstories.com.au/learn-about-natural-childbirth/
Fresh off the local newspaper press today! "A Mother's Inspiration" http://inspiringbirthstories.com.au/blog/2012/media/fresh-off-the-glen-eira-leader-press-a-mothers-inspiration/
What others are saying: http://inspiringbirthstories.com.au/blog/category/rave-reviews/
Empowering birth community: https://www.facebook.com/InspiringBirthStories
By Nicholas Geyer
8th June 2012
8th June 2012
HERO IN YELLOW
I am 20-years-old – it’s a fact a lot of people seem to get kind of hung up on. Maybe because I started volunteering when I was 15-years-old. That surprises a lot of people. But those people mustn’t have very high expectations for teenagers.
I started volunteering when I was 15 with my local Rural Fire Service near Bathurst. I joined as a cadet, wanting to help the community in times of need. The excitement of the job also appealed to me. As a cadet, we were taught about fire safety and how to protect our community. It really just gave me an itch to become a full firefighter and get out there on the end of a hose during call outs. As soon as I was old enough, I was out fighting fires.
I guess one of the really big ones I took part in was in 2009 when massive bushfires burned through the Bathurst area. We are always on call and some months can be busier than others, this was one of those busy months. The fires were quite unpredictable and we battled them for days in really searing heat. It was hard work but you didn’t really think of that at the time – you were just doing what had to be done.
While fighting the fires I found out my family’s house was also under threat. That was pretty worrying. You hate to ever see or even hear of any house going up – especially your own. But I just had to put it out of my mind and get on with the job. It was a real relief when the fire was contained – to us and all of the community. But it was also a real moment of pride – all that training and hard work had paid off.
One of the other more unforgettable moments actually happened when I just got home from school. While coming home from school one afternoon, I got off the school bus and, not long after, was called out to attend a car accident. When I got there I saw that the bus I had just been travelling on had been involved. I reacted quickly and tended to an unconscious female in a car involved in the accident, administering first aid.
I have always enjoyed helping others in tough times. I have been a volunteer with St John Ambulance for many years. I figured first aid was an essential skill in life and joined up. Since then I have competed at the St John’s Ambulance National Championships for three years and won them twice with my team.
Right now I am training to be a police officer. Last year I started my training at the police academy at Goulburn, which was great. Helping the community in emergencies is a passion of mine and being able to make a career out of it would be fantastic. The team environment in these kinds of organisations is a real bonus and just one of the many appealing aspects of it.
Hopefully I am giving young people a good rep for helping others. Although I don’t expect to inspire anyone, I hope that I can pass on what I’ve learned to younger members. That’s why I’m a teacher in the RFS cadet program. This year I’ll be on the cover of the Bathurst White Pages and Yellow Pages under the theme A Helping Hand, The Aussie Way, which I hope inspires some young people to consider volunteering their time to the community. It’s hugely rewarding. I also hope it shows some of the older people out there that we don’t deserve the stereotypes they give us.
I started volunteering when I was 15 with my local Rural Fire Service near Bathurst. I joined as a cadet, wanting to help the community in times of need. The excitement of the job also appealed to me. As a cadet, we were taught about fire safety and how to protect our community. It really just gave me an itch to become a full firefighter and get out there on the end of a hose during call outs. As soon as I was old enough, I was out fighting fires.
I guess one of the really big ones I took part in was in 2009 when massive bushfires burned through the Bathurst area. We are always on call and some months can be busier than others, this was one of those busy months. The fires were quite unpredictable and we battled them for days in really searing heat. It was hard work but you didn’t really think of that at the time – you were just doing what had to be done.
While fighting the fires I found out my family’s house was also under threat. That was pretty worrying. You hate to ever see or even hear of any house going up – especially your own. But I just had to put it out of my mind and get on with the job. It was a real relief when the fire was contained – to us and all of the community. But it was also a real moment of pride – all that training and hard work had paid off.
One of the other more unforgettable moments actually happened when I just got home from school. While coming home from school one afternoon, I got off the school bus and, not long after, was called out to attend a car accident. When I got there I saw that the bus I had just been travelling on had been involved. I reacted quickly and tended to an unconscious female in a car involved in the accident, administering first aid.
I have always enjoyed helping others in tough times. I have been a volunteer with St John Ambulance for many years. I figured first aid was an essential skill in life and joined up. Since then I have competed at the St John’s Ambulance National Championships for three years and won them twice with my team.
Right now I am training to be a police officer. Last year I started my training at the police academy at Goulburn, which was great. Helping the community in emergencies is a passion of mine and being able to make a career out of it would be fantastic. The team environment in these kinds of organisations is a real bonus and just one of the many appealing aspects of it.
Hopefully I am giving young people a good rep for helping others. Although I don’t expect to inspire anyone, I hope that I can pass on what I’ve learned to younger members. That’s why I’m a teacher in the RFS cadet program. This year I’ll be on the cover of the Bathurst White Pages and Yellow Pages under the theme A Helping Hand, The Aussie Way, which I hope inspires some young people to consider volunteering their time to the community. It’s hugely rewarding. I also hope it shows some of the older people out there that we don’t deserve the stereotypes they give us.
By colleeen Thompson
8th June 2012
8th June 2012
BRAVERY SCARS
Cancer is something that has transformed my life. My own diagnoses with ovarian and breast cancer aside, I’ve also lost both my parents to the disease and watched my sister go through breast cancer. But if I can give anyone any advice, it is to stay positive.
Try to think of the outcome and to how much stronger you will be. There is an end to the dark tunnel. I could have fallen into a dark hole many times – not only with my own diagnoses but after losing my parents – but I chose not to. I knew it was too deep and that if I went in I would never come out. So I always stayed positive, not only to myself, but also to the ones around me.
I was just 33 when I was diagnosed. My daughter was nine-months-old and my five-year-old girl had just started school. I had only found out two weeks prior to my diagnoses that I was a BRAC1 carrier. It was more frightening being told I had this gene than being told I had cancer – I knew it meant I had to decide whether or not to have my breasts and ovaries removed. I didn’t like being told to do this when I wasn’t ready.
My cancer journey was quite eventful! I fell pregnant during chemo, which was such a surprise. Deciding to continue with the birth of our third daughter gave me something to look forward to, along with the smiles on my girls faces each day. If pregnancy wasn’t enough, my husband Dean proposed to me on Christmas Day. Our wedding gave me something to look forward to after I had finished treatment and all of my operations.
After six months of breast feeding my third daughter I had my other breast removed. My daughter was six weeks old when I had my full hysterectomy. This was a difficult time as it was a decision that I knew meant I wouldn’t be able to have any more children. Whether we were planning to have one or not wasn’t the point – not having the choice anymore made it really difficult.
Cancer gave me a better understanding of my family. I lost my mother to breast cancer when I was 13, watched my sister be diagnosed at age 37 and lost my dad to bowel cancer at the age of 67. I found it helped me relate to what they went through.
Cancer also made me stronger. No matter what you may come across in your life, fighting cancer is one of the toughest challenges. Having gone through it I now know I can handle any challenge life throws at me. Being a survivor is the best way to make a positive out of a negative and raise awareness among women young and old.
During my cancer journey I discovered a new passion – making a difference to others with the disease. In 2004 I launched support group Breast Cancer in City/Country (BICC), which is still going strong. We meet every month for an informal dinner.
After losing my dad to bowel cancer I felt there was a need to support everyone travelling the cancer journey. In 2009, I launched SUPPORT4CANCER, a drop-in centre where people just come in and chat with me. I feel it is very important speaking to someone who understands what it is to survive cancer.
The centre has grown remarkably quick and we are now taking phone calls from people across Australia. We either link the patients with someone going through a similar experience or to connect them with organisations that they may find helpful. We have big plans and this year I feature on the cover of the Ballarat White and Yellow Pages, which I hope raises more awareness of what we do.
Cancer is a terrible disease, but I believe in the strength of positivity. At the end of the day, I lost my breasts and ovaries, but it could have been worse. Some people lose legs, arms. No one can see my scars. I am reminded of them every day when I look in the mirror, but at the same time, I get to look into that mirror every day and see myself and my precious family.
By Rebecca Baldacchino
8th June 2012
8th June 2012
MUSIC SPEAKS FOR CHARITY
CHARITY EVENT HELPS PUT MUSIC BACK INTO THE HEARTS OF CHILDREN!
Have you ever felt the urge that there was a path in life that you needed to take? I think this feeling is quite common, though a lot of people choose to close it off and not listen to the voice within. Well I have always felt thankful for the life that I live and have always felt a need to help those who may not feel as content as I do with their own life. A charity event is something I have always wanted to organise and at the start of this year I was given an opportunity to do so.
I am a student completing my final year of university at RMIT. As part of my course I was required to complete a major project and my options for what I could do were limitless. This was my chance to take my path in life, to organise a charity event. This allowed me time to work on it as it was a university project and I could go to my lecturer for guidance. Though for something that usually would take months to organise, I had only 12 weeks to do it all. Even though it wasn’t a great amount of time I know in my heart I had the motivation to pull it off.
When I gave my lecturer my proposal for my idea, he doubted me. Little by little during the semester his faith grew about my project, but it wasn’t until the very night of the event and he witnessed the turn out, and believed in me. The more people told me that I couldn’t do it; the more I wanted to prove them wrong. No matter who says you can’t do it, the only thing that counts is what you believe in your heart.
Selecting which charity that my event would support was the first and one of the hardest decisions I had to make. There are so many well deserving charities out there it was hard to narrow it down. Though when I came across The Song Room, it all just fell into place. The cause assists 20,000 disadvantaged Australian children each week facing limits of the socio-economic setting, geographic isolation, health issues and cultural background to find a new path through music and the arts.I am a music student myself so I understand how music can help a person grow and develop, just like it did for me.
Organising all the final details for the event, Music for the Future, took longer then expected.Ileft me with only just under two months to find sponsorship and market the event. I was lucky to find three bands that would perform for free on the night as they too believed in the charity and the difference music can make in one’s life. The amount of support I received from everyone who helped was fantastic.The event did turn out a very successful night. It not only helped raise awareness for the Song Room, but it raised $661 as well.
The most important thing in life is that you believe in the path that you are meant to take and follow it. Organising this event gave me the most rush of good energy and has opened other doors for my future. Never let anyone tell you that you can’t do it because if you believe in your self … YOU CAN ACHIEVE ANYTHING!
A MASSIVE thank you to all the sponsors that helped make it possible… RMIT University, Mindful Connexions, Rae’s Academy of Modern Singing, Scarlett Music, Lombard, Magnolia and Community First Home Loans!
Have you ever felt the urge that there was a path in life that you needed to take? I think this feeling is quite common, though a lot of people choose to close it off and not listen to the voice within. Well I have always felt thankful for the life that I live and have always felt a need to help those who may not feel as content as I do with their own life. A charity event is something I have always wanted to organise and at the start of this year I was given an opportunity to do so.
I am a student completing my final year of university at RMIT. As part of my course I was required to complete a major project and my options for what I could do were limitless. This was my chance to take my path in life, to organise a charity event. This allowed me time to work on it as it was a university project and I could go to my lecturer for guidance. Though for something that usually would take months to organise, I had only 12 weeks to do it all. Even though it wasn’t a great amount of time I know in my heart I had the motivation to pull it off.
When I gave my lecturer my proposal for my idea, he doubted me. Little by little during the semester his faith grew about my project, but it wasn’t until the very night of the event and he witnessed the turn out, and believed in me. The more people told me that I couldn’t do it; the more I wanted to prove them wrong. No matter who says you can’t do it, the only thing that counts is what you believe in your heart.
Selecting which charity that my event would support was the first and one of the hardest decisions I had to make. There are so many well deserving charities out there it was hard to narrow it down. Though when I came across The Song Room, it all just fell into place. The cause assists 20,000 disadvantaged Australian children each week facing limits of the socio-economic setting, geographic isolation, health issues and cultural background to find a new path through music and the arts.I am a music student myself so I understand how music can help a person grow and develop, just like it did for me.
Organising all the final details for the event, Music for the Future, took longer then expected.Ileft me with only just under two months to find sponsorship and market the event. I was lucky to find three bands that would perform for free on the night as they too believed in the charity and the difference music can make in one’s life. The amount of support I received from everyone who helped was fantastic.The event did turn out a very successful night. It not only helped raise awareness for the Song Room, but it raised $661 as well.
The most important thing in life is that you believe in the path that you are meant to take and follow it. Organising this event gave me the most rush of good energy and has opened other doors for my future. Never let anyone tell you that you can’t do it because if you believe in your self … YOU CAN ACHIEVE ANYTHING!
A MASSIVE thank you to all the sponsors that helped make it possible… RMIT University, Mindful Connexions, Rae’s Academy of Modern Singing, Scarlett Music, Lombard, Magnolia and Community First Home Loans!
FROM THE EDITOR
Hello again,
What a jam-packed edition we have this time around!
In this quarter I've discovered that even though I meet heroes regularly as part of this job, the exact definition of a hero is not as cut-and-dry as I had thought.
After attending my two daughter's drama ensembles about heroes a few weeks ago - you were awesome girls - I began to
think deeply about the word and its meaning.
The ensembles represented heroes in various ways: as super people, like Superman, Spiderman, Wonderwoman; as common folk who are the heroes of their own stories; as specific stereotypes subjective to the eye of the beholder. Although all very different , collectively, every one reflects courage , direction and a stand for something meaningful - much like Essentially Me's Purple Heroes.
My favourite definition though, came in one humble sentence that has inspired me ever since: A hero tries for five minutes more.
Thanks for coming
Louise Crossley