I love to talk about what's going on in our lives, mine and yours. In my newsletters, I focus on those things that bring us joy, as well as the tough stuff that comes with being human. Through Memoir, I write about some of my hard life experiences including dealing with family addiction and the struggles of finding a sense of place. I write about the importance of connection in building resilience and finding joy and peace in our daily lives - insulating ourselves from this sometimes crazy world. Share your email below to receive the newsletter every two weeks.
Where's the life I knew? What's in the future?
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Dear Reader Life changes......whether it's in our plans or not. And sometimes we're happy about it, sometimes we grin and bear it, and sometimes we only find the joy in the change as time passes. Where I'm at in that cycle, I don't really know. Last night loud thunder claps woke me about 3 am and I couldn't get back to sleep. My thoughts are on our decision to move house. And in the wee hours of this morning I found myself grieving for the life we will be leaving behind. This isn't like some moves in the past, like in 1974 when my family took a trip around Australia - 5 children, 2 adults - in a small caravan. That trip was designed and engineered by my then husband with no consultation at all with me. And I was not happy with his decision. However, I was surprised to find that I loved it and had more time to enjoy my family than I ever had in our suburban home that I didn't want to leave behind. (You can read about our adventures in my daughter Phoebe's memoir of that time, available here on Amazon). This time, I'm happy with our plans to move and the decision that has been made by both of us. We've decided to move into a retirement village, something we've contemplated for a few months, swinging to and fro with the pros and cons. A few months ago, our neighbours made the move and one thing they said hit home for us. "We want to make the decision to move before it's too late and it's made for us." I'm happy knowing that the time is now right for us. When we bought our current home five years ago we thought it was our forever home. We planned how we could be cared for here if such a need arrived. We could get someone to do the gardening, the housework, bathe us, cook for us - the house is certainly big enough to even have a live in carer. What I hadn't built in to that scenario was the signals to look for to tell us we are at any or all of those stages of need. And what I didn't factor in was what losing the ability to do things with my husband would cost me in companionship. To be honest, the loneliness that accompanies my dwindling capabilities is beyond description and fills me with grief. I'm also grieving leaving my little street. Yesterday two of our neighbour children came to see us, bringing us cookies they'd baked with their lovely mama. It was beautiful listening to their adventures of learning to cook. The oldest was about 2 when they came to live across from us. His sister arrived a little over a year later and was a couple of days old when I first held her. It's joyous watching them grow and I fantasised about watching them become young adults. Not to be! In the early hours of this morning the tears flowed in the realisation that our new life means we won't see these little ones grow, we won't hear their happy chatter and laughter from our place. And their lovely mother ... I know this is a good move for us. I know I'll be happy. I know there'll be other companionships to enjoy (no little ones in our new village though!) And, honestly, I am looking forward to this new chapter in our life. I'm just giving myself permission to grieve a life I've loved - a life of more independent living than I know I'm able to maintain going forward. I looked for some photos to illustrate my thoughts. Too many to choose from. So I decided on this view from our driveway towards the entrance of our current home. Here we've designed a space we love, a little oasis that enables everyone to feel at peace when they come in. I already love our new home. I can't fathom how I can be filled with joy and grief at the same time! I look forward to the grieving part being surrounded by the joy as we go forward. My experiences in life show me that that grief doesn't go away, it gets surrounded by life's demands (joys!) That's what makes it bearable. I'm hopeful and happy thinking of the future life we will create. I'll keep you posted on progress on where we go to next. Enjoy whatever life brings for you, my friend. With love Why I Write - for you and for me too. Some stories come from lived experience, like navigating my son’s addiction and the long road of recovery. Others are shaped by imagination, like the cozy mystery I’m writing, set in a small café where trust is both tested and rebuilt. Some of my life stories still bring tears. Others make me smile. And many are filled with memories that warm my heart. I write for anyone who’s ever carried a burden across generations, and for anyone who longs to heal forward. My thoughts for Living Life in 2025 and beyond: "My religion is kindness" Dalai Lama “Cast your bread upon the waters and it will Doris May Payne - my mother "Life is a Daring Adventure or Nothing" Helen Keller “Write it on my heart that every day is Ralph Waldo Emerson "Remember that sometimes not getting “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave [person] is not [the one] who does not feel afraid, but [the one] who conquers that fear.” Nelson Mandela Read past Newsletters and, if you enjoy them, www.StephanieHammondAuthor.com FOLLOW ME
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Hi! I'm Stephanie Hammond
I love to talk about what's going on in our lives, mine and yours. In my newsletters, I focus on those things that bring us joy, as well as the tough stuff that comes with being human. Through Memoir, I write about some of my hard life experiences including dealing with family addiction and the struggles of finding a sense of place. I write about the importance of connection in building resilience and finding joy and peace in our daily lives - insulating ourselves from this sometimes crazy world. Share your email below to receive the newsletter every two weeks.
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