Tag Archives: facebook

Remember When


Those memory things on Facebook, they can either make your day or break your heart, can’t they. Some days it feels like all they show you is your dead pet caterpillar and what noxious weeds can do to your prize petunia; they can make you wonder why you wore what you did to a social event eight years ago and relive the cringe-worthy moment that you spouted your love publicly for a toad. Day ruined before it even starts. Other days though, you can see a pattern emerging, or evidence of change and growth.

Three years ago today, I was recovering from yet another broken ankle. This was the break that finally pushed me to see a different orthopaedic surgeon, who would reconstruct my ankle, repair my calf muscle and fix my Achilles – the steps towards being able to finally walk correctly after seven years of managing with an ankle I’d destroyed quite well after falling down some stairs.

Two years ago today, I was finally allowed to leave the house after being diagnosed with whooping cough. This was a scary time, I remember feeling like I was fighting for my life. Aside from just breathing, one of the main issues the doctor kept talking about was my co-morbidities. Isn’t that a reassuring phrase. The GP who was managing the whooping cough had written a referral to both a respiratory specialist, and also to the emergency room of the local hospital, just in case. As an asthmatic, whooping cough was quite problematic. But the other issue was my weight. It was a huge amount of excess load to be carrying around with me while I struggled from the nebuliser to bed, and back again. It also made treatment tricky – it wasn’t until the steroid dose was tripled that I started getting any form of relief.

Whooping cough was, I think, my absolute low point. At the time I felt like a victim. Like nothing was ever going to go right. That life was just relentless in it’s taunting and slaps. And even though I was surrounded by good people (albeit at a distance while I was in quarantine), I had a distinct feeling of being totally, utterly alone.

But evidently, something changed.

I had a slow recovery from whooping cough. Extreme tiredness. Trembling constantly because of all the medication and steroids. Gaining even more weight rapidly, again as a result of the steroids. But it wasn’t long after this that something shifted.

Because one year ago, on this day, I hatched the idea that maybe one day, I could be a personal trainer. And I referred to it so vaguely and so cryptically, that if I didn’t know that’s what I was talking about, I’d have skipped over the memory. But I knew what I was talking about.

I’d been going to the gym for about 8 months at this stage. Actually, maybe a bit longer. I’d made progress. I’d turned my sinking ship around and started sailing towards directions unknown, but I was OK with not knowing where I was going – I could feel myself being stronger and healthier and happier.

But I still had the issues of confidence and doubt. In that I had none of one, and a lot of the other. So much so, that when I finally squeaked the idea of being a PT out loud, I firmly believed I’d be laughed at and told to swallow a large dose of reality. But that’s not how it went at all.

As I spoke out that idea, it kept being met with unbridled joy and excitement. My people were confident in me, and urged me to push towards this goal.

I don’t think I’ve shared it here before, but I actually submitted my first expression of interest in the course around this time. When the information date rolled around, I panicked and didn’t go. I just didn’t go. The second time? I went.

Because now, on this day today, in 2017, I’m halfway through the Certificate IV in Fitness. I’m almost a personal trainer.

The facts?

I still have some weight to lose to be where I want to be. Not because of aesthetics, not because of the BMI – but for my goal of where I want to be. But I’m OK with that.

I still do not look like the traditional personal trainer. But I’m OK with that.

Already, I’ve seen that as an industry, there is a tendency to rely on how people look. In getting a job at fitness centres, how you look counts. And I’ve even seen and heard people commenting that they wouldn’t want a PT who doesn’t have a body they’d aspire to. But I’m actually OK with that one, as well.

I know my story. I know my truth. And I know that there are people that I can help, and perhaps best help because of this imperfect body.

And if nothing else, future Facebook memories will attest to that.

The point of this post?

As much as I hate the way the word has been trawled through crappy reality TV and cheap self help books, trust the journey. If you had told me on this day one year ago that I was indeed going to be a PT, I wouldn’t have believed you, even though the idea was in my mind. Certainly not when I was recovering from whooping cough. Not at all when I was sitting on my bottom watching my ankle change colours.

But sometimes, you can do nothing else but trust that somehow, you’re on a journey.



The Best Way to be Safe on Social Media


Last night I witnessed a flurry of frantic Facebooking. Every post said the same thing, because you had to COPY and PASTE it, not just share it:

Source: news.com.au

Source: news.com.au

Then, without doubt, someone would comment on the post informing the poster that it was a hoax.

One of my mates went a step further, and totally won the Internet with this status this morning:

As of January 6th 2015 I hereby give notice that I blindly copy and paste any stupid thing that shows up on my news feed in Facebook without spending even one minute of time to find out if it is true or not.

There are two things to say here.

1. The best way to be 100% safe on social media is this: Don’t use it. But, if like most people, you quite enjoy using TwitFace and so on, and therefore don’t want to stop using it, then be wise about how you use it. Don’t put stuff up that you don’t want to come back and bite you in the arse. Are you OK with five million selfies haunting you in twenty years? Yes? OK then, carry on. Are you OK with someone taking a screenshot of a message you sent to them and then sharing it all over the shop? No? Well maybe talk to them on the phone instead of sending a message. Don’t want your photos shared or re-used? Be selective with what you put up.

2. There’s a little box that you have to check when you sign up to anything online. It’s got to do with terms and conditions or some shit, and I never read them. Same as everyone else. It’s the biggest, most regularly recurring fib that we all tell every single day. But copying and pasting this declaration doesn’t override the terms and conditions that you agreed to. So again, it comes back to #1 – don’t use it, or be wise about it.


Not relating to the copy paste shenanigans last night, because in that instance it is fair enough. But I have to say, I feel a bit like people are ripping the wings off butterflies when they debunk myths or shared stories of recovery or scientific explanations for stuff. I imagine the world is a bit nicer if you don’t know what’s happening sometimes. There are times when ignorance is indeed bliss. And aren’t there enough disappointments in life without someone telling you that glow worms don’t actually glow or Santa isn’t real or the funds actually went towards a holiday?

Except for when people debunk that ridiculous pensioners vs refugee benefits thing. That’s a TOTAL LIE and has been created to fuel dissension and intolerance, and it NEEDS to be slammed every time you see someone post it.

Look, I don’t know. But I reckon if you try to be a person you’re not ashamed of, then you’ll be fine.

What do you think?



My flatmate, my neighbour and I are under siege. In fact, it is quite possible that you, too, are under this same siege. Our very lives have been changed. Peace has been challenged. Addictive personalities have been revealed, as has the competitive nature that only increases with hormonal fluctuations.

The Bakery, and those who reside within, have fallen prey to a game. A game that pronounces our moves as Sweet! or Tasty!, which can be quite disconcerting when one is playing on the toilet.

This game has found us sitting in silence for often than not. We run late for appointments. We neglect basic personal hygiene. We have even cut down on caffeine, simply because making a cuppa would detract from precious Crushing time.

Yes. We have found ourselves entwined in the spell of Candy Crush.

http://sfsu.uloop.com/news/view.php/76601/why-i-absolutely-hate-candy-crushThe game is simple: swipe candies, smash them, get combinations, and BEAT EVERYONE YOU KNOW.

This game has reduced me to tears on more than one occasion. I have spouted words that I did not know were hidden in my vocabulary. I spend extended periods of time Crushing on the toilet (Tasty!). Dinner has been seasoned with phrases including words such as “freckle”, “stripey”, and as a result of poor visual interpretation skills, “onion”.

My flatmate stumbled upon a patient playing this game last week. As you know, she’s a nurse. The patient was waiting for surgery and my flatmate heard the magic music. It coaxed her down the hallway, Pied Piper style. Her question of the patient demonstrates the level of competitiveness we have reached in the Bakery: “What level are you on?”.

We send screen shots of level progress. We no longer inquire as to health and well-being – the priority is finding out where we stand on the level board.

I am currently coming last.

So I have tried to think of things that could replace the glow of beating my friends at Candy Crush.

But then I realised nothing could, and I kept playing.

Are you a Crusher? Could you stop? What level are you on?