Why I strive for a positive life

Some people are born poor, others rich, some have good families, and others do not.

I was neither I had been born to a married couple who really did not know how to look after a child. They were very young and were not ready for the commitment of marriage or a child, the shame of that was; Sylvia often said that they missed seeing me grow into the woman I became.

My mother ran back home to the country to be with her parents, leaving me with the old lady next door who left me out in the sun all day and I was blistered from head to toe. My father did not want me. My name was the same as my aunt’s one of my father’s sisters she was eighteen years old at the time, she called in to see the baby after she had a call from her brother, my father. She took one look at me and called an ambulance. Sylvia took on the responsibility of bringing up the seven month old baby – me.

Sylvia did a wonderful job of firstly visiting me at the Bay hospital where they treated my burns; they also treated scarlet fever and many other infectious diseases; most of which I came into contact with and caught while there. I spent the first two years of my life at that hospital.

The same year, Sylvia made an application to the court for temporary custody, as I was still in Hospital.  Sylvia an eighteen-year-old young woman, in 1944 was granted temporary custody, as no one else turned up at the court to lay claim to the sick kid in hospital. After I recovered, the ambulance took me home to where Sylvia lived with her younger sister and their mother where I partied until 8.30pm every night.

My grandmother treated me like a princess she taught me the joy of reading and bought me every child’s book available at that time which was just after the Second World War.  Unfortunately, she died young of a ruptured spleen on Melbourne Cup day 1954. I was only eleven; she died in my arms while telling me about the ‘grand time’ she had enjoyed on her ‘Melbourne cup day out’ with her drinking mates.

Yes, my grandmother was a very happy drinker, we would often do the ‘housework’ after she got home from drinking and we would put the radio on and dance to the music while scrubbing and polishing before Sylvia arrived home from work. It was always a hoot and we knew we would get it all done in time, she would call out to me ‘Cinderella grab me the broom’ and I would jump to it. I remember we laughed at everything and every situation. There was one day that she had been out ‘on the town’ and spent the rent money, so when the rent man knocked on the door my Grandmother said to me…. Tell him I am not home, so off I walked up the long hallway, calling out “I am coming” when I opened the door I gave the rent man the story “My Nan is not home.” He yelled at me  “you are lying.” With that, my grandmother ran up the hall and said, “if my granddaughter says I am not home, I am not home.  Never call my granddaughter a Liar ever again.” With that, she banged the door. Next thing Sylvia received a letter from the rent man that said he would not be providing the service of picking up the rent ever again.

Sylvia married Jack when I was four years old, one of the conditions to her marrying Dad was he would have to accept ‘little Sylvia’ which he did. Dad’s family embraced me as one of their own, a truly beautiful caring family. Mum, Dad Grandmother Vera and I enjoyed ‘our honeymoon’ we all called it. I do not know even to this day if my grandmother went along on ‘the honeymoon,’ to keep her sober or to look after me,’ maybe both.

My brother and sister who I love to this day came along a few years later. I was always treated as their own and although I knew the truth it did not affect me as I was brought up to be a positive child and was made aware that I did have ‘family’ out there if I chose to make myself known to them. Although Sylvia never claimed child support, (endowment it was called in those days) for me as she never wanted to bring attention to the fact that she only had temporary custody of me, she wanted me to grow up in her care where I would be loved and safe.

It was not until I myself was engaged to be married that I thought I should invite my own family to the Wedding Sylvia & Jack worked a lot of overtime to save for my wedding they paid for this big white wedding at a wedding reception place and invited my other family to come and celebrate with us. This was not to be, my grandfather wrote back and said ‘we should let sleeping dogs lie.’ We did.

When my own mother retired in Adelaide at sixty-five, she had three sons and no daughter so she decided to contact me through her sister my aunt who after much pressing from her daughters to contact me, her children wanted to meet their cousin Sylvia as they grew up.

This she did which was very lucky as I see all of my cousins and two of my brothers and their families as well I saw my Mother until she died two years ago at the age of eighty-nine. One of my brothers died at thirty-four before my mother had contacted me.

I was fortunate that the way I was ‘brought up’ was to look for the positive in every situation or relationship this had been well entrenched into my character by the time I met my mother when I was forty-five, I let her into my life with Sylvia’s blessing. Although we lost Sylvia when she was only sixty-two she knew, my mother wanted contact with me.

I had had a hard adult life, which should have left me ‘bitter and twisted’ although I had two amazing daughters who like my mother Sylvia and me were only less than twenty years apart in age.  We did everything together, they were both talented, loving and good helpful girls, again just like my grandmother and I we danced and sang while doing ‘housework’ and it was a positive experience rather than a drudge.

It was not for many years that I lost my positive outlook and fell victim to the very situation that I helped others to move forward from during my life.

I remarried when my children were grown up.  My new husband was an abuser. For four years two months twenty-one days and five hours, he abused everyone around him culminating when he burned down my house, my artwork and everything I owned. I ran from him then and did not stop until I arrived back in Sydney to begin my life again. Yes, I divorced him although I could no longer paint as I had ‘lost my positive heart.’ Why, I asked myself at the time’ was it that I had let myself become a victim of, ‘domestic violence.’

Twenty years later after being with my present partner for sixteen years in a relationship, I needed to stay home to care for him as he had developed emphysema and was on Oxygen twenty-four hours a day, he rarely left the house, so I occupied my time in and around our home to be close if he needed me.  We discussed me writing a book on domestic violence to get it out of my heart so that I could enjoy staying home with him and maybe take up painting once more.

I decided to write a domestic violence story which was; not my story after my abuse from my ex-husband ‘I had told my story so many times’ to anyone who would listen, this was to be a book of fiction.

I had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder even after I got away from him; I suffered panic attacks, agoraphobia and a loss of my self-worth in other words a negative person. I told in MOVE FORWARD a story of recovery. I referred to my notes, which I had taken over the years from speaking to many survivors of domestic violence. As well as my own journey of moving forward and others, I had researched.

My book took me two years to write. I hope my book is a positive recovery guide to anyone who feels alone, dealing with abuse or trying to survive after moving forward.

When I was writing my book I found so many women telling me their stories, and discussing how women had ‘kept quiet’ about this type of abuse for generations. Last year when I eventually completed my book of fiction on the subject of how woman chose to move forward after looking for the answers as to why they let themselves become a victim. I focussed on the journey most of us addressed on how to do this.

My daughter asked me to frame all of the paintings I had sent to her over the years as cards or watercolours or oil paintings I had painted for her. She had saved them all for the day when she renovated her home. Which I have just completed for her in beautiful white box frames with white mats. I was talking to her about not being able to paint my landscapes anymore. Smart girl suggested I paint the book cover for MOVE FORWARD, which I did.

I laugh everyday no matter what life throws at me – Now I am dealing with a negative budget although more of that later.

I remain positive every day.