At what point do you decide to fight for yourself?

Ingrid Poulson is a survivor. A woman of huge courage and even bigger heart. Her  amazing soul and her calm, resilience were evident when Mia interviewed her recently (if you haven’t seen that interview– stop – watch it here now and then come back to read this post.)

Ingrid’s book Rise details the horrific events that led to the deaths of her children and her father and it takes us on her amazing journey to honour their lives.  She writes:

“I lay in the bed one morning, idly watching a wind chime outside the window, the inertia of grief wrapped around me. This was all too familiar. I remembered this hollow clawing in my stomach, the faint whiff of mouldering flowers, the sense of ballooning unreality.  I’d done this before, when I was 21 and my 24-year-old brother had suicided. Coming from a caring and close family, the shock was incredible. I literally did not know what to do with myself. Although I did do some things right, I also found myself swinging into destructive behaviours – eating nothing but chocolate, smoking, drinking, losing sleep, being careless with my body and casual with my life. Later I came to realize that this was due to my attempt to let the scars show. We who have lost have no physical signs, no outward scar that says, ‘Look, oh look, can you not see? I have lost so much’. The scars are inside. Our drug-riddled, ill, tattooed or emaciated bodies become our scars; our ineptitude at completing goals or overcoming addictions, our tendency to sit in support groups or slice at our skin or fail at life –  these are our ways of showing our loss.

As my weight dropped and I teetered on the brink of serious breakdown, I was sent to a GP who gauged the issues and put me on antidepressants – mainly, I now think, to stop me drinking alcohol. The shock of being on medication pulled me up and I dropped most of the behaviours, but the impact of my brother’s death still worked its way through the family. My mother’s immune system turned on her, crippling her hands. My sister threw herself back into her work, soldiering on, left years  later to process the death of her father. My father waded into the ocean and screamed out his rage and my brother’s name. I knew the statistics about the effect that death levies on those left behind – greater incidences of cancer, illness, family breakdown, depression and premature death. As I lay there watching the wind pushing the chime around, I suddenly felt enraged. How dare it be that our family had to go through this again! Were we not granted some kind of death and disaster immunity? And how could I possibly demonstrate how much I loved and missed my family? My body was not big enough to show the size of the scars, my failures could never be spectacular enough, there was not enough darkness in the world for me to wrap myself in. How could I show everyone how much they meant to me?

Right, I thought, I have a pretty good idea this time about what not to do and I refuse to get sick. I refuse to abuse my body and neglect my health. I will live well in honour of my family. I will demonstrate my love not in the going down, but in the rising up.

I flung the covers back and sought out my mother, dragging her off for a walk. We were both still physically weak and that first walk was short but triumphant. I later made a list that I boldly entitled ‘I show I care for myself by’ and which laid out the daily self-care routine I had decided to follow.

• Eating 3 pieces of fruit a day
• Eating 5 vegetables a day
• Exercising – walk
• Drinking 2 litres of water
• Having at least 2 wine-free nights a week
• Keeping a high standard of grooming
• Setting goals
• Recognising my wins

You should read the rest of Ingrid’s book (you can buy a copy here). It is practical, it is beautiful and it is simply awe-inspiring.

Don’t forget to watch Ingrid speak to Mia on Mamamia on Sky on Friday night at 9:15pm

How resilient are you? Has there been a point in your life that has made you reassess the way you face your battles?