No man’s land

Mother Theresa was a Catholic, years ago. I never followed her, but some of her sayings got to me, like this one. This speaks not of just Third World countries, but for me it talks about people in Australia who live in the Australia Third World areas.

What is poverty? ACOSS, Wikipaedia and ABC define it, and recognise 2.5million people in Australia live in poverty. What happens to a person who loses their job? Do you support them? What about when they run out of money? Do you support them? And what about when they finally lose their car so can’t get anywhere at all easily?

Do you still support them?

I wonder if any other person has done what I’ve done. Before moving to Bethania I asked my daughter for some money. She did help, just a little bit, but I saw it as heaps. A sort-of help to remedy my financial situation.

After my car broke down this week I was spiraled into my depression. I know it gets worse, so if I want to fight it I have to figure out how to get some more money. Today I wrote two letters. After I had received an email from a lovely woman who acted as a mentor for me last year, I answered her email and asked about her future, and then told her about my present situation. I asked for a donation.

And then I wrote to the CEO of the company I’d previously worked for. My QIRC claim was in my favour and yet the decision was made for Q-Comp. Whether or not he’d actually seen the decision, I told this man about that, I attached some of the words which supported me, and I asked him for a donation.

Why did I do that?

Well, if I was earning my original salary I would have just drifted along, donating to organisations which worked where I supported them, but now I know, in my latest income, I can’t even rely on financial support from any of the organisations I used to support. My income is very low, I feel depressed many days, and I know that having some funds to get myself back on the road ahead would make me very happy.

So I asked.

What do I expect from this? Well, I expect real people who would support me. They could pay my car registration because I can’t afford it. They could pay for my car repairs because I can’t afford it. They could pay off my debt – which isn’t very big at all, but I can’t afford it.

I. Can’t. Afford. It.

If you make no more than I do, I’m sure you would understand this – and I think of you every day. If you make a lot more than me please don’t assess me to be bad. Just assess me to be forward.

I’m living with a hope. I hope that the two people I wrote to will see my future. I see that funds will help me, no matter what anyone says. If you’ve lived in poverty, the way I am, you would know what I am saying.

If you’re not living in poverty, then please feel free to send me some money! And wish me good luck.

Food for thought

Since moving into this retirement village, my “education” has grown. I think I’m the youngest person here, but for me to learn anything about older/oldest people is a blessing. Not a religious one, either! My main thoughts turned to the food I now eat each day.

Meals eaten here are very similar to what my grandmothers and step-grandfather used to eat. The middle of the day is the main meal, and the evening meal would just be something light and simple. Most of the people here, in this retirement village, are no older than my parents were when they died, so why are meals different than when I was young?

Growing up in my own family home, our meals had already changed and had been set up years before I was born. The middle of the day ones were sandwiches or anything light and simple – essential for school lunch - and the end of the day would be our main meal, with meat, potatoes, vegetables and gravy, and followed by dessert. That seemed to happen within families of every kid I went to school with. The only difference was on Sunday, with a main roast at lunch time and light food in the evening. Maybe that was because every Sunday our grandparents would join us, and that was what they were expecting.

What changed the setup?

I Googled “when do we eat meals” and I got a lot of diet preparation – see the 2014 (UK) and 2015 (Aus) articles. People on a diet should, apparently, think about 6 small meals a day rather than 3 main meals each day. I already know about this because many years ago, as an adult with very good physical training, I used to live on 6 small meals – and I enjoyed that way. But that wasn’t really what I was asking. (Oh, and “diet” is not the word which I have used… that is “lifestyle”. Look that up.)

I changed my request on Google to search for “history of meals” and I got some very interesting information. Food Timeline looks centuries back at how people used to survive then. They said that meal times “differ greatly from culture to culture and through time”, and depended on socio-economic class. In Britain in 1900 they followed early morning 8am (tea, bread and butter), breakfast 8-8:30am, luncheon at midday, afternoon tea 5pm and dinner 7:30-8pm. Soon after, in the 1930s, they changed to breakfast 8am, lunch/upper classes or dinner/rest at midday-1pm, afternoon tea 4pm, high tea 5-6pm, dinner 7-8pm and supper 9-10pm. Six meals back then?

This was taken from the book Consuming Culture: Why You Eat What You Eat, Jeremy MacClancy; Henry Holt:New York 1992 (p. 61-66). Food Timeline also follows other books for different world areas.

Wikipaedia compares many “normal” meal times, even BBQs. They said about mealtimes that:

• Breakfast is eaten within an hour or two after a person wakes in the morning.
• Lunch is eaten around mid-day, usually between 11 am and 3 pm. In some areas, the name for this meal depends on its content.
• Supper or dinner or tea is eaten in the evening. In some areas, the name for this meal depends on its content, but many English-speakers use "supper" for this meal regardless of size. 

AlterNet looks into the biological reason about the no-reason to eat 3 meals a day. Anneli Rufus, the author of this page in 2011, said what is real these days:

People around the world, even in the West, have not always eaten three squares. The three-meals model is a fairly recent convention, which is now being eclipsed as… eating becomes a highly personalized matter of choice. What and when and how frequently we eat is driven less and less by the choices of our families, coworkers and others, and more and more by impulse, personal taste and favorite nutrition memes, and marketing schemes such as Taco Bell's promotion of late-night eating known as "Fourthmeal: the Meal Between Dinner & Breakfast." Selecting how and when we eat is like loading our iPods.

Perhaps this was written in the USA, but it’s real for us as well. AlterNet has a lot of other information about food, not necessarily the time to eat but… well, read it if it would interest you.

At the end of each day I now order a small salad, and I add that to some meat which I would either eat cold (slice ham) or heat up (I only have a microwave) and maybe add a wee bit of tomato relish. Except, of course, whenever I go out anywhere for a meal.

A different meal. My different lifestyle.

Going down, going up

Yesterday I felt so tired. S-o-o-o tired. Yet I couldn’t sleep in the afternoon, and my night was broken so much. I felt even more tired this morning, and I broke into tears when my thoughts wandered onto my car.

 Before I’d moved up to Cootharaba I felt that my car needed some work, possibly on the brakes. I couldn’t afford it. I came down to Brisbane to visit some friends twice during that 9 weeks, but I drove every single kilometer worrying about my car breaking down. It got me here when I moved back, the weekend before last, but the noise seemed louder. It certainly sounded, to me, like brakes.

Last week I’d thought of places I would be going. On Tuesday I went to a trivia club at Logan, on Friday I went to Loganholme (didn’t like that), and yesterday I went to pick up a friend and went to lunch at the Glen, where I’d used to spend time before I moved up to Redcliffe almost two years ago. And on Friday I’d joined the #fightstroke club to raise funds for Stroke Foundation before the Bridge to Brisbane. Yesterday two of my friends agreed to come on the B2B with me, and I would have to pick them up. Even for tomorrow’s trivia night I would have to pick both of them up to get there.

Not “have to”, but have to. Neither of them have a car… and I do.

So this morning, after my tears, I Googled and I found a mechanic only about 2kms from where I live, in Bethania. I drove down there and still felt depressed when I told him I needed the brakes fixed, but I needed to know how much he would charge. He went out and had a quick look at my car – and told me around $120. $120?? Oh wow, yes I have that much, yes I can afford it!! I even have a wee bit more if he has under-quoted, but he sounded so good. S-o-o very good!

I walked home, around 2kms – very good for my preparation for the B2B – and will walk back later this afternoon or tomorrow to pick it up. Yes!

I love my car, I have loved it for the last five years, I will still love it as it still runs. In Redcliffe, the last two years, I’d seen only three or four up there. In Noosa I’d only seen two. Since I moved down here the weekend before last I have seen six. Six in just a week! Two greys, same colour as mine, one blue, one green, one black and one maroon. I’d seen one last night on what seems to be a USA video for a disabled person who unpacks her wheelchair from it. These cars are only small, but they have a lot of leg room!

Chrysler said, on its website: “From its inception in 2000 to its final manufacturing day in 2010, the Chrysler PT Cruiser ran quite the course in its 10 years on the market. The PT Cruiser was one of Chrysler's best selling vehicles of its time and it became quite popular for a variety of reasons.” So there are people here who love their PT Cruiser just as much as I do. I’m sure there are many other owners here who will own theirs for many more years, because, like me, don’t believe PT Cruisers look “old”.

My car will be repaired later today or tomorrow. Right now I am feeling upwards. I am counting on my car to keep improving my mood.

Bridge to Brisbane

Stroke Foundation is Australia’s biggest stroke support organisation. They make funds to help survivors and do a lot of other work. They had been selling the “Beanie”, a blue winter woolen hat which they sold for support of people who don’t have any other funds. Survivors, like me, have had our stories printed on their website. 

They print a lot of information about how to be aware of a stroke and how to get the victim help. They have supported the Stroke Week, which is on again in 2016, and list a lot of community fundraising on their website. 

My ex and I moved from NZ to Brisbane in 2005. The first full year after we arrived I became aware of the B2B run/walk before the second bridge was built. Walking up the bridge was interesting, but at that stage I was very fit, and I loved the feeling that I had done another 10km walk/run. Since then I’d done it about every second year, even when the second bridge was being built, until 2014. By then I was in hospital for my brain aneurysm, my heart stopped, and when it started again I had a stroke.

I’ve had a second blog which gave information about what I encountered and how I faced it. Have a read if you can – there is a whole lot of info about brain aneurysms and my own feelings. I was registered for the Mother’s Classic in May 2014 but I didn’t make it because I was locked into BIRU. Instead I have only been involved in one 5km walk, the Mother’s Classic one in Southbank in 2015 where I didn’t need to talk. I walked alone amongst the crowd. I have the pink t-shirt and black winter jacket which were the stuff I’d bought the year earlier, to keep that memory for me. 

Recently, as a member, I got an invitation to join Stroke Foundation for the Bridge to Brisbane 10kms walk/run to raise funds. I am joining them for my return to that, to support them for supporting me.

I am very much looking forward to this – and I need to prepare! Back at the start of 2000 I had become involved with the Les Mills gym in my home town, and I loved Body Combat. I also did time on the treadmill, and lots of weights. Each gym I’ve been into over here I’d do 5km on the treadmill and would find the weights area, which was where I used to “live” back in NZ. I don’t do it any more but an occasional class helped me, although nowadays my exercise is pretty much just a short walk with my dog, Jordie, which is so s-l-o-w. After reading the invitation I made a decision that I need to exercise and Jordie needs to sleep. I have to do that every day until I have rebuilt my body to put up with a 10km run/walk. 

I invite any friends or readers to come and join me and help me to support Stroke Foundation which supports me. Wish me the best, and I hope to see you all there!