"For Sale" - a renters nightmare.

Once upon a time I was renting a flat with a friend of mine in a quiet street. We’d spent 12 months there, cleaning, decorating, and making this little slice of property our own when knock, knock, knock the owner of our realestate turned up at our door with a notice of sale letter.

The day we received the for sale notice was the day I lost the feeling of home I’d worked so hard to build. There’s something about having strangers through your living space once a week, looking at you and your house as an investment that creates an icky, dehumanising feeling.

I’m tired of hearing “but that’s just the reality of renting” like it was my choice to rent in the first place. When you’re on a low income it’s your only choice, and because it’s your only choice, the rules are automatically not in your favour. There was also an added level of complexity for a while as this was going on at the beginning of the pandemic/started up once the full lockdown was lifted.

I had to completely change my schedule to match the open houses. Instead of getting much needed post gig rest on Saturday morning, I would get up early to clean the house. Technically according to the law I didn’t have to do this, but having strangers walking through my house if it were unclean would have created an extra level of embarrassment.

The disruption to my life made it feel like a part time job, a job that I did not get paid for. Sure, I could have asked for a rent reduction, but I shouldn’t have had to. The disruption should have been acknowledged by the party in power, and should have been offered freely.

I’m now living in stable housing, which I’m incredibly grateful for. I’m living with my partner, and we’re renting from his parents (who are lovely humans). Saying that, every single rental should be as stable as the one I get to live in now and I dread the day we have to re-enter the private “real estate” rental market.

About the outfit: This is a dress I made many moons ago (and a pattern I’m currently refining to eventually sell). I really enjoy the yellow polka dot echo in my socks.

R U OK with Mental Health Awareness Day?

After trying to type the intro to this post in a delicate way many times over, I’m just going to come out and say it: I don’t like “single day events” that are dedicated to mental health. This isn’t to say I don’t think talking about mental health is important. I absolutely do, but as someone with mental health issues I find it belittling to have the general populous designate a “safe day” to talk about something that’s literally life or death.

I appreciate the intention behind “days” like “mental health awareness day” and “R U OK” day. I understand logically that it’s well intentioned, but for me I just feel uncomfortable talking about my feelings on days like this, like as someone who’s mental state is part of the discussion I’m expected to weigh in and share, because it’s the “safe day”.

(I just want to add a disclaimer here that I know there are others who suffer from mental health issues that don’t share my thoughts and feelings about this subject and who find days like these to have a positive impact on them. My word isn’t the be all and end all, after all I can only come at topics from my tiny experience in this massive world)

I think the thing that upsets me the most about “days” is that it masquerades as a solution without hitting the systemic nail on the head. My interpretation of the problem is as follows: Talking about mental health is hard and uncomfortable, so here’s a “safe day” for “everyone” to discuss the issue, but once that day is over “everyone” can go back to not talking about these problems because it’s easier.

The sad truth of the matter is it’s only easier to sweep discussing mental health under the rug until someone dies. The end of a life makes it real, because the saddest reality is that one or two days of national support doesn’t make the other 363 days a year a supportive place to talk about the feelings that overwhelm you, or an ease the anxiety or shame that accompanies asking for help.

There are two people who have made me feel safe to talk openly and honestly about my mental health. Beckie J Brown (through her youtube channel Trichjournal) and Rachael Maria Cox (They’re a nonbinary singer songwriter with a killer band and sing/talk about feelings on the reg). The biggest thing that they have in common is that they talk about mental health all the time. They talk about what they’ve experienced, how it affects them, how they received help, how to go about finding health (etc.) They make the discussion an all the time thing, like it should be.

I started listening to a podcast called “No Feeling Is Final” the other day (mental health awareness day to be exact). Something the host Honor talks about is the simplification of the message about mental health (which I feel “days” perpetuate). “Just ask for help”. It sounds so easy, but it’s not. You spend so much time, energy and money searching for a solution, because asking for help isn’t a one time thing. It’s a full time job.

The last time I spent an extended period “asking for help” I had to take a sabbatical from the help I was seeking because the process of “getting well” was wearing me thin. Nobody tells you that “asking for help” might not lead to you getting better, because that’s not what’s easy to talk about.

So yeah, those are some thoughts I’ve been having over the past few days. After my whole pessimistic spiel, I will say I think society is slowing getting better at talking about the hard things. Social change is a hard process, but (fortunately) it doesn’t stop it from happening. (doesn’t make me any happier about “days” though ;P)

On a lighter note I made a dress! The dress I’m wearing in these here photos to be exact! It’s yet another item I’ve made to fit into my collection of pyjamacore clothing (defined loosely as clothes that look “presentable” but feel like pyjamas)

When I’m having a bit of a time with my brain, loose fitting clothing helps my existence to feel less claustrophobic, which is precisely why a lot of my recent sewing has been geared towards roomy fits (a stark contrast from me of 4 years ago with “snug” fits)

Final note: I certainly talked about some stuff in this post, and it may bring up feelings about your own stuff. If that’s the case, there is help avalible!

Lifeline on 13 11 14

Kids Helpline on 1800 551 800

MensLine Australia on 1300 789 978

Suicide Call Back Service on 1300 659 467

Beyond Blue on 1300 22 46 36

Headspace on 1800 650 890

QLife on 1800 184 527

(And finally for my musician peeps) Support Act 1800 959 500

Fostering Community

As a regularly touring musician I am fortunate enough to experience both living in a city and living in a small town. I personally spend a lot of time in the mid north coast and the northern rivers areas. These regions have a small city then lots of little towns within 10's of kilometers. Each place has it's own community and own way of life. 

Obviously a town with a few thousand people can't sustain some of the things I love about being in a city, but for whatever they lack in that capacity, they gain in an area that is far more valuable. They have close knit community. 

I'd like to do a little compare and contrast. I spend a lot of time in Sydney, and I also spend a lot of time in Lismore. When in Sydney I'm guarded and have tunnel vision. I move fast, and I have a "get in and get it done" mentality, partially because that's my work ethic, but also because of the collective hustle and bustle of the strangers around me. It's really easy to feel lonely and invisible. 

Comparing this to Lismore, there's not the same frantic pace, because everything is close together. I'm not as guarded, because everyone is friendly - a luxury which is allowed to perpetuate due to the percentage of people who know each other. (Goodness, that's poorly worded, but I hope you get what I mean) One of the huge things for me is pretty much all the musicians (and creatives for that matter) know, or are aware of, each other. It also extends to the lovers of the arts. Word of mouth also travels fast, allowing for some of the coolest community spaces/house creative things that just wouldn't be possible without a tonne of advertising in a city. 

It's not like there aren't community spaces in the cities I live in. Three that come to mind are The Rhythm Hut, 107 spaces and The commons, but, the communities they foster are so much smaller, and it's so much harder to find them. In terms of "what's going on" cities are noisy spaces. There are so many things happening all the time. The events in small towns don't have to compete with the noise. 

So what can be done about Fostering community in a big city? It's hard to say. In the short term, increased government and mainstream media support is needed (but lets be honest, trying to get that is super hard, because community spaces aren't usually "money" focused, and that's what tends to attract the attention of these entities) 
 

In the long term, community starts during early education. Helping to foster and participate in a close knit community (at least in this modern age of ours) isn't a natural skill. It's taught. It requires kids to be exposed to all types of people, and foster friendships with all ages of humans. It requires regular gatherings where people can interact authentically in a chilled out safe supportive environment. It requires village like social structures so kids learn to be one part of a whole, instead of an individual. 

Having only discovered the true meaning and feeling of community in my late teens, I feel like a significant portion of my human development has been delayed. There are definitely social skills I lack because I missed out on this early community. The increasing individualism I'm witnessing in our society scares me, because community is the most valuable resource we have. 

(p.s, if you want to be notified about my happenings, you can sign up for my mailing list here :) https://mailchi.mp/edf9944672b3/the-emerald-ruby-mailing-list-signup )