But how do you actually feel though?

As a child I got sick. A lot. I have memories of constant doctors visits, and spending time in sick bay waiting for my mum to pick me up. As you can imagine, dealing with sickness as a person and having a sick kid as a family is pretty disruptive. Recognising this, I slowly began to ignore what my body was telling me and soldier on when I was feeling less than stellar.

My earliest memory of this was around the age of 10. I woke up with a sandpapery throat, and I didn’t tell anyone. The only indication that anything was wrong was my teachers mild annoyance that I kept requesting to fill up my water bottle (the cold liquid on my sad throat was a mild relief).

These “ignoring sickness” behaviours a kid gradually saw me morph into an adult who doesn’t take sick days. If I can get out of bed, that means I can go to work, no matter how sore, uncomfortable or vague I feel. Until recently this wasn’t an issue. Almost everyone I know in my line of work (music teaching/tutoring) did the same. That is until COVID 19 hit.

If you’re sick, don’t go to work. Sounds simple right? Feel bad = stay home…. except, for me, it’s really not that simple. After almost two decades of ignoring sickness I don’t know what sick feels like. I often wake up with a sore throat. Is it dehydration? Am I sick? Did I sing too much or am I coming down with a cold?. I’ve spent so long ignoring my bodies signals, and now I’m suddenly expected to listen again.

It’s further complicated by the nature of my work. I don’t get sick leave, which means if I don’t go to work, I don’t get paid. Because of jobkeeper, that hasn’t been an issue recently, but once that ends, what happens when I get sick? I can’t afford to loose any income, and opportunities to get more work are few and far between. Community responsibility, or being able to pay my bills. Why is this something I have to choose between?

So how do I actually feel? This is a question I’ve been asking myself a little obsessively since lockdown. Luckily the answer is usually “exhausted, but fine”. The one time it wasn’t, I did the responsible thing and got tested immediately (I’m lucky it was at the end of my work week!). Touch wood I stay well and don’t have to take time off.

About the outfit: ANYWAY, lets step away from the doom and gloom of financial realities, and into the sweet embrace of whimsical fashion! This shirt is one of the best items I’ve ever thrifted. When I go thrifting I’m on the lookout for three qualities - Fit, material and quirkiness. The fit is perfect, the material/construction is sturdy and will stand the test of time, and there are some fun little details (like the gemstone collar button!?)

This skirt is the first pattern test for a small line of skirts I’ll be releasing at the end of the year. They won’t look like this one (I’ve secured a red velveteen for the official job). I’ve had this fabric laying around for years, and it’s been nice to put it to such a whimsical purpose.

Emeralds on Mustard.

I'm going through a tough mental period at the moment which is resulting in a loss of motivation, and most worryingly for me, a loss of motivation to get dressed. It's not that I have nothing to wear (because that's absolutely not how I feel) it's more that I'm struggling with the combination of early mornings that my school bands require, the late nights that my performances and rehearsal require and the bitter cold that is the Australian winter. I basically want to spend 24/7 rugged up in multiple comfy layers of knit and blankets. 

All of those things put together mean that I'm basically throwing on a pair of thick tights, a plain, but nice enough dress and my favourite coat, which there's absolutely nothing wrong with, but it leaves me feeling "not put together" and dowdy. I miss colour, unexpected details and the motivation to have those things, but I don't currently have the energy or control over my exhaustion levels to change my mindset or patterns. 

I'm going to get real for a sec here. The way I'm feeling is not normal. I've been in this place many times before and usually I've had the luxury of time to get help so I can dig myself out of this hole. I've not got that luxury this time around. All of my time (During clinical hours) is taken up with immovable work, and I'm holding it together "well enough" that on good days I can convince myself that there's nothing wrong and I'm being an idiot. 

The day I put this outfit together was one of these aforementioned good days. I had energy the night before, and got up before I had to (which is a rarity these days). I really dig the combination of mustard and emerald (and I have no idea why I haven't combined these colour before!). I'm not really sure where this post was going, but a jumble of words is all I can manage at the moment. 

Periwinkle

When I was in Lismore, I stumbled across the cutest vintage clothing store called the Treasure Trade.

I purchased two pieces in that shop, neither of which I've been able to wear (the clothes are made for colder weather, which is rare in the Australian Summer) 

Yesterday it was chilly enough for me to wear one of the pieces! This is such a perfect and comfortable dress. It's made of chiffon, and has elasticised wrists and waist. It's a tiny bit see through, but that's nothing a slip can't fix. 

The colour is really unusual as well. Too purple to be considered blue, but too blue to be considered purple - basically a perfect periwinkle. 

The skirt of the dress has wonderful movement. I pretty much twirled in it all day. 

On a more serious note, it seems some people need to have a good talking to about personal space and body autonomy. 

I played a gig last night with my band. During the break I needed to use the loo, so I went into the stall area and waited for a stall to free up. The toilets at this venue were unisex. 

Now, normally when you're cuing for the loo, you let the other people in the room have all the space they need. This is the sort of basic respect I expect from people in the stall room. 

So this guy walks into the stall waiting area, and proceeds to put his arm around me in a very familiar way, whilst trying to pick me up at the same time. I'm ashamed to say, I only stiffened up and shifted away. I didn't use my words, but then again, I have a fairly good reason. This guy was twice my weight. I didn't know him. I didn't know if he was drunk, and I didn't know if he would get violent, so I politely and awkwardly sent out the "go away" signals.  

When I finally got into the stall I took my time so that I didn't have to run into him on the way out. He was washing his hands in the basin when I exited the loo. Again, he tried to make conversation. The creepiest bit was when he finished at the basins, he went to the door, turned back and stared at me for an uncomfortably long time, opened the door, then stared again before exiting the bathroom. 

I should have said something to the bar staff, but I was too shocked at the time, and unfortunately too used to this sort of behaviour from strange men. The more I think about the exchange, the angrier and more disturbed I feel as well, both at strange bathroom guy, and at me, although quite frankly I shouldn't have to say anything because it shouldn't have happened in the first place. (man, that's a run on sentence) 

Compared to many other instances of inappropriate touching, this is quite mild, but I don't care. The fact that someone thought this was appropriate is disgusting. It really shouldn't need to be said, but if you don't know the person you do not touch them. Ever.  

If you're non-male person and someone does something inappropriate, speak up. Let them, and everyone around you know that it's not ok, because if we don't, the people who behave this way will continue to be disgusting, and our tiny children will think it is ok. And that's not cool.