the quiet revolution

Hello.

It has been a while, hasn't it? How are you all?

I thought I'd come back to blogging once I quit Facebook, but it's taken a year for me to reappear here. To feel the value of putting words out here to help quieten down the noise in here.

I'm moving house tomorrow. I've been in my place here for three years, and it has been kind to me. Three years: the longest I've lived anywhere since I left the flat in Auchenflower, Brisbane, around late 2006/early 2007. I have feelings about moving again after finally gaining the sense of stability and community I'd so needed.

So why move? Because my lovely housemate stayed with her partner in the country during covid lockdown #1, and managed to convert her job to remote working, moving out just before we went into Lockdown #2 - Isolate Harder. For various reasons I decided against trying to find a new housemate while the entire city was confined to home for 23 hours a day. I figured I could ride it out financially for a few months until life went back to "normal" and I got to go back to working in the office, at which point I'd get someone in again, or hopefully be able to buy a place of my own.

Lockdown #2 dragged on and I rattled around in my own head for so long that something went askew in my brain chemistry. I had to change my situation. Work still can't say when we'll be back in the office full time, paying all the rent was sending me broke and I desperately needed company. So I weighed up the options and uncertainties and found myself a room in a share house, the next suburb over. My new housemates are Ben, Steph and Steph's dog Ninja.

It's all been rather fast, and after 9 months living alone, sharing again is a big change that's a challenge with the heightened anxiety the lockdown has left me with.

That leaves me here, in a mostly-packed little townhouse, culling the kitchen things and working out what to put in storage and which plants will make it to the new house (oh, I went mad with the garden through the 9 months of restrictions and although everything is in pots and boxes it really can't all come), where I'll bunk down until the future looks a little more certain and I can make informed decisions about the next step.

In February I'll tick over 6 years in Melbourne, a city I only ever intended to stay in for one. I still don't love it, though I'm here for the job and in a global recession that becomes more important. The promised remote-working revolution may open new opportunities yet. We'll see.

Onwards.

George Bass Coastal Walk, last Thursday...

2019.

So far, my goal of slowing down has meant weekends at home instead of heading out hiking. This has translated into garden work, car shopping, processing paperwork, cleaning out the garage and other such chores. I've also gone to an art exhibition and a birthday party, and helped friends with an art installation project. I'm not sure I'm doing this "slow" thing quite right.

I bought a car, replacing my nearly 15 yr old hatch that struggles with hills with a nearly 5 year old small AWD that should fulfil my outdoor adventuring requirements for the foreseeable future. It is quite amazing where a determined person can get to in an old Mazda2 though!

Car purchasing comes with some internal conflict. It is inherently an environmental bad, no matter which way I justify it. Do I need a car to survive in the city? No. Do I need this newer car to get out of the city? No. I don't need it. I could do without it. I probably should do without it. Does it mean I can get up into the wild places that make my heart sing and refresh my energy? Yes. And so I justify it to myself and trade off the guilt by donating the old car to charity, by riding my bike and walking more, by being the designated driver and sharing the ride on adventures. Is it enough? The impact of one more vehicle is imperceptible and meaningless against the backdrop of industrial energy consumption and waste, yet I remain another piece of the problem.

Individual choices and consumptive actions are a poor weapon in the environmental wars. We're presented with a false dichotomy of being so morally perfect we can criticise, or so flawed we are silenced. This ignores that we're a society and our challenges are social, cultural and economic. Environmental moral 'perfection' reduces or removes one's ability to work in the body politic to generate the systemic changes actually required. Precarious balance must be struck between the options and opportunities available to us; socially, culturally, economically.

I feel both guilty and joyous about my new car.


2019.

I haven't had any alcohol in 15 days. While I'll excuse myself a few drinks for my birthday, I'm keen to see how long past January I can maintain this. It wasn't a New Year's resolution, but an observational reaction and call to action. My family has problems with alcohol; a fact hammered in by my recent trip back to see the family for Christmas. Dad's been an alcoholic for a long time, and my mum and my sister seem to have joined him. I have a high tolerance for the booze myself and though I try to watch my intake I'd like a better relationship with alcohol, and it's been 3.5 years since I last took a break. I've survived two booze-focused social occasions now, and can see the difference in my skin and the clarity of my eyes, even if the waistline is yet to reflect it. The bank balance will also benefit.

I'm riding to work and organising regular climbing partners, and the old shoulder injury that's niggled for years is getting stronger and stronger after sinking significant time and money into osteopathy and myotherapy last year. Turns out tendons had been out of place since the initial hyper-extension injury 8 years ago, and my muscles had adapted around that, continually pulling in ways they're not supposed to. Now I have to get better about doing the strengthening exercises to recover the now-aligned muscles and rebuild strength.

After the intensity of work last year I'm enjoying having a less pressing work load right now, and reveling in having mental and physical capacity to spare in the evenings. I remain mindful, however, that work will bring enormous challenges again this year and the temptation remains to bring work home in an attempt to "get on top of things" that cascades into poor segregation between work and non-work time. This is made challenging by the complex nature of the problems I work in, the presence of these issues in the mainstream news media, the fact that I find my work quite interesting, and having my brain, which likes to chew over difficult problems continuously, work day or not.


2019.

My word for the year is "boundaries". I need to work on them. In my work-life balance I need to maintain distinction between time on and time off, to focus more on work when at work, and switch off when I'm off the clock. The temptation to blend across is frequently more than I can resist, as sitting in front of a computer for both work and leisure blurs each world into the other.

Boundaries are also a significant theme in my relationships. I have co-dependent tendencies (see alcoholic parent, above) that have resulted in poor partner selection and a tendency to try to "fix" people. I cross their boundaries, and let my partners walk all over mine. In therapy I've scored highly on the maladaptive schemas of "unrelenting standards" and "subjugation", both of which connect through with issues around boundaries. I'm noticeably better at managing these schemas than I used to be, though its still something to actively work on.

It would be nice, I think, to find myself a gentle, genuine relationship this year. I loathe internet dating so minimise my investment there, so I need to set aside time and energy to go out in situations where I'll meet new people who share my interests. That's relatively straight-forward for outdoorsy stuff, though it's proving more challenging on the intellectual side of things, particularly given I'm a little introverted and find large gatherings and noisy places rather over-stimulating and exhausting.

My world is big, and so are my ambitions (to effect meaningful and lasting change) and I'm extraordinarily capable. It sounds horrible to say it, but these days I tend to find many people's lives and perspectives to be frustratingly small and I am so hungry for people who can open my world up further, yet still feel awkward and out-of-place in such scenarios. Also, where they hell do you do to socialise with the worldly high achievers? Is there an exclusive social scene to which my modest background blinds me? Another quandary to puzzle over.

2019: let's see what you bring.


Photos from Tasmania, November 2018

I wanted to write something to reflect on the last year, but it’s difficult to separate out 2018 from so much that’s come before. The last five years are so closely threaded into where I am now, and the five years before that are where much was set in motion. So let’s start there, and see where we get to.



Ten years ago I’d just begun to change my path: I’d packed up most everything I knew and moved to Hobart. About to turn thirty, I was in a young marriage that was already floundering, and was oscillating in and out of serious illness with Grave’s disease. My hope was the Hobart would set life back on track: a new city and new job to mend both my marriage and my health.

Eight years ago I was finally regaining my health following my second dose of radio-iodine, and with that found the resolve to end my eleven year relationship with Alex. I’d tried so hard to carry us both for so long, and had lost all faith that he’d confront himself and become an equal in partnership. I was single, and about to be tossed a career opportunity that opened up a path away from science.



Six years ago I I’d made myself a small, sustainable home in a centenarian cottage with an unruly back yard I turned into a wonderful veggie garden. My days were filled with good things: taiko drumming, swimming, tea with friends, and most weekends I went hiking. Work had shown me the power of systems to instigate change and I was growing curious about what more I could do to really lead change: Peru was calling…

December 2013: I was finding my feet in Lima as an international development volunteer with Peru’s national parks service. I saw in the new year from the rooftop of a hostel in the mountain town of Huaraz, having just completed an utterly spectacular overnight trek in the Cordillera Blanca. Alastair and I drank hot tea with honey, lemon and pisco as the streets and rooftops around us exploded with fireworks.



December 2014: Arriving in Melbourne just in time for New Years, road-tripping from my parent’s place back down to Hobart, I was struck by how wealthy, arrogant and entitled I found the people here. Reverse culture shock proved a lingering issue through the next year as I relocated to Melbourne and spent a year in full-time study.

December 2015: Freshly awarded a Master’s degree and giving my best to a new relationship, I spent the year’s close on the slopes of an active volcano in New Zealand’s Tongariro National Park. I spent a month travelling – hiking and kayaking - distracting myself from the job hunt and housing challenges that lay ahead.



December 2016: Although I saw out the year in Tasmania for a wedding, surprising myself as much as anyone, I was still based in Melbourne. I’d stayed for my relationship and finally landed a job with the potential to lead somewhere I wanted to go, though the year had been stressful. Unemployment, social isolation, financial stress and a relationship that was increasingly destructive had made the year strained.

December 2017: Another Melbourne city year ticks by, and what a doozy it was! The year started with my relationship imploding and me being frightened enough to pack up and flee. I bounced around three different houses before finally landing in my current place at the end of the year. I started doing policy stuff at work, got fit in the climbing gym, did some pretty great hikes and gave the whole dating thing a go (too much, too soon). I did a lot of hard work with myself through therapy. I set up a house and now own furniture again. I started making new Melbourne friends.



Two interstate moves, two career changes, one year overseas, a divorce, an abusive mess of a relationship, a Master’s degree. Outdoor adventures from humble bushwalk beginnings through to trekking in the Andes, rafting the Franklin, kayaking Wilson’s Prom and taking up climbing. Working on ways to make the world brighter and reduce environmental harm from the personal to the global scale, butting up against disillusionment and exhaustion time and again. Making oh so many mistakes, yet continuing to learn from them.

Which brings me up to 2018…

2017 has been a challenging year, following on from 3 prior years of immense challenge and change. A difficult year, but not a bad year, as step by step I’ve worked my way up to a brighter place.

It’s not always so easy to see that, however, and I spent significant tracts of the year mired in feelings of failure: at being a competent adult, at forming healthy relationships, at managing my finances. At times, it took all my energy to keep my head up and my feet moving. It’s been a very tiring year. So let’s step through 2017 and document all that came to pass, and clear the way for whatever 2018 brings.

January

I saw in the new year in northern Tasmania, at the wedding of friends I know through M. I was in a job that was doing my head in, living in a city I didn’t like, isolated in the wrong part of town, and in a relationship that had become concerningly unhealthy.

On the pseudo-long weekend created by Australia Day, we went on a 4-day sea kayaking trip with friends around the northern end of Wilson’s Promontory National Park. The kayaking itself was spectacular, however my relationship was melting down and being in a two-person kayak together brought a few things to a head.

Kayaks in paradise, Wilson's Prom

February

My relationship with M ended in an explosion of toxicity in early Feb, and in an anxious mess in response to actions I found threatening, I fled. Through the grace of friends and strangers to whom I owe a life debt, I came to rest in home of H&L, who have now become very dear friends.

Amidst the tears and anxious insomnia, memorable moments include having to tell my brand new boss what the fuck was going on with me, getting my arse back to the climbing gym, and the life-affirming joy of K&L’s wedding, which went a long way toward rescuing my faith in love and lasting relationships.

March

House-hunting in earnest for a place to start again, I also started serious therapy, not just to work through the break-up, but to examine the underlying patterns and behaviours that led to it all. My job satisfaction improves markedly under the new boss, with challenging tasks and the freedom to find my own ways to deliver them.

I find a falling-down old cottage in Kensington that needs some care and effort to turn into a home, but before I move I make time to head to the mountains with Friend Rob for a glorious overnight hike and to prove to myself that I can have these grand outdoor adventures on my own terms.

April

I settle into the ramshackle place and retrieve my few worldly goods from various ports of stowage, including all the things left in Tasmania when I headed to Peru so long ago. I spend too much money in a hurry to create a sense of home and make Housemate and I comfortable: fridge, washing machine, furniture… I haven’t owned this much stuff in a while.

Mum comes to visit, putting therapy into action. I dash down to Hobart for M&B’s wedding, spend Easter fixing things up around the house, and enjoy a multi-day hike to Lake Tali Karng with welcoming and engaging people who work on the same sorts of things I do.

May

I’m travelling for work a lot, working on expanding my social networks, and finding the good in being in Melbourne. Climbing is joy. I dip a cautious toe into the world of online dating before realising it’s far too soon for that sort of thing.

Reconnecting with old friends, I spend a beautiful day out gathering wild mushrooms and manage not to poison anyone through my ID of edibles. Life start to feel a little more like “normal” again, then two months into a 12 month lease I get bad news: the landlord wishes to occupy my rickety home…

June

After Housemate abandons ship I’m forced to move pretty quickly, and lack the time and energy to head back into the real estate market. After the “perfect” place falls through due to timing issues I take a small room with big promises in a share house in Essendon. My possessions are once again packed into boxes and stowed away, but at least I’m saving money, right?

Work is exciting but exhausting and my bounce has gone missing. Too worn out now for grand adventures, I spend a restful long weekend car-camping in the Grampians with Rob and Saba.

July

In urgent need of recharge I start the month with 10 days down in Tassie, split between time with dear friends and solo time up in the Highlands. I go to my old GP clinic and discover I’m severely deficient in vitamin B12. The Highlands bring beautiful snowy day walks and nights alone in front a wood heater: heavenly. I decide I need to upgrade my outdoor gear to better adventure in this kind of weather.

Back in Melbourne to have my innards filmed to find out what’s gone wrong with my digestion this time. Ulcerative colitis gets added to the list of Things That Go Wrong with My Body. Medication and B12 injections pick up my energy levels. I decide to try dating again.

August

Work has me Leylanding* all over the place. I buy a ridiculous new tent: ultra-light, 4 seasons, expensiveness. Rob and I take it on an overnight snowshoe hike on Mt Stirling. It’s my first time in snow shoes and I’m sold on it. I begin planning swathes of snow adventures, then come down with the Malingering Virus of Do Not Pass Go. I am sick for the best part of a month.

Living in a tiny space, in a house I have no rights in, on a main road is beginning to get to me. I feel I am failing at Adulting. The marriage equality non-binding national postal survey goes ahead, releasing a nauseating wave of homophobia and transphobia that hits me far harder than I’d anticipated. Bleugh.

September

The postal survey has me in a tizz. I speak up and speak out, in the process properly coming out (hi, I like men and women!). It leaves me feeling vulnerable and raw, but I am no longer Schrodinger’s Queer.

Emotionally, spiritually and physically run down, I take off to the Victorian Alps with Rob and Saba for a recharge weekend of snow, and discover that learning to ski is not something to be attempted when your resilience is low. With swollen knees and bruised ego I leave them to explore the back country and go for a walk instead. Still, I’d love to prove wrong the orthopaedic specialist who told me I’d never ski.

October

Time to stop running and work out where exactly I’m steering this ship. I take a few days out to go bush and do some deep thinking (hiking plans abandoned due to ongoing ski-knee issues). I determine it’s time to move house yet again to create the stable home base I’m so sorely needing. This time everything goes right and I land a great place quickly and prep for moving in November.

Life is very busy, health is patchy and I’m not climbing as often as I’d like. The whole dating thing seems to be going quite well, however. His name is Matt.

November

The first weekend of the month I fly down to Adelaide to catch up with Pete – my co-volunteer from Peru and dear friend – for a trip out to the Arid Recovery conservation project in the desert near Roxby Downs. A small trip for 3 when I booked flights, it has swollen to an epic crew of 12 (all strangers to me bar Pete) and a challenge for my mild introversion. Everyone is lovely and the scenery is spectacular, but all the people make for a pretty exhausting holiday.

The very next weekend I move house, and the weekend after that I fly to Brisbane to surprise my Mum for her 70^th. The final weekend of the month I finish unpacking. I could happily sleep for a week after all that, but this Matt business keeps stealing my early nights. I finally get back to the climbing gym and manage to badly sprain the joint where the big toe meets the foot arch. Joy.

December

I have a small housewarming and my new housemate moves in. Laura and I have a Xena weekend, embracing our inner warriors in a day of horse care, archery, fencing classes and climbing, though my injured toe slows me down a lot. Matt finally succeeds in dragging me out dancing. I clock up stupid hours at work. Marriage equality is finally legalised in my backwards-arse country. 

Then suddenly it’s Christmas, and with injury preventing planned hiking and climbing I take some time out at home to hermit away from the world and let the past year sink in, and to start thinking through my aspirations for 2018: more climbing (learn to lead) and hiking, promotion case for work, and relaxing a little now I have a space that feels like home.

So, yeah, it's been quite the year. Some adventures were good, others I could have done without. I've learnt a lot and grown, personally and professionally, and am now at a point where I enjoy my job and am respected and in demand for what I do, my relationships with my family are improved, my own behaviours and skills in managing conflict are much better, and I have a growing network of good people in this city. This life is starting to feel more like mine again and I'm looking forward to the adventures - and the calm spells - yet to come.

* ¯ Travel all over the countrysiiide, ask the Lleyland, ask the Lleyland… Travel all over the countrysiiide! Ask the Lleyland brotherrrrs! ¯

I am so tired and angry and strung out. What the hell is going on in the world? Why are we still fighting for the same basic freedoms? People feed hate to gain power, seemingly oblivious to the inevitability of that hate consuming them too.

I hate labels. They restrict and constrain and far too many of them translate inside my own head to 'fuck-up' to 'failure'. Never ever ever ever good enough; why aren't you doing more, Toni? Why so lazy? Get out there are fight. Stand back up and fix this shit.

Labels. Queer, feminist, nerd, divorced, renter, public servant, single, white, jewish heritage, descendent of refugees, hiker, climber, middle class, educated, privileged. Let's add some new ones. Angry. Sick of your shit. Tired of playing nice.

Don't admire my passion. Don't congratulate me on the quality of my voice. Get the fuck up and stand beside me. I do this because I can't see an alternative that isn't surrender. I do fuck all beside get up and try to be a version of me I can look in the eye: nothing more special than that. Not taking the cop out of just getting by and hoping the next generation takes care of it.

Maybe I was born with a freakish sense of justice and an over-active sense of responsibility. Maybe you just learnt to turn yours off and look the other way.

I'm so angry. Not at you - reader - not specifically. I'm angry with my society, with my peers and my parents, with our craven politicians and their corporate masters. I'm so tired of fighting this shit. Don't tell me to "keep the fire burning", get your arse over here and lend a fucking hand. I shouldn't have to burn out my anger to be the change that helps you and your children while you wring your hands.

Yesterday: Razorback Ridge, Jawbone Circuit (slightly truncated), Cathedral Range State Park. Roughly 16 km, largely in challenging terrain. 6.5 hours.

Phone photo by Marty.