We keep us safe

And how we can give safety and respite to others....

Over the weekend I had the first bit of respite I’ve had since March. My husband and I went and stayed with friends for two nights. We celebrated our big boy’s birthday and took his best friend along with us.

Ham was happily looked after for the two days by his nana. It was a long thought out trip, attempts had been made, they hadn’t worked in the past - this time it all came together and worked.

My friend’s dad who we were staying with has built a viewing platform to see the mountains and the stars. I climbed up after the sun set. I’ve never seen so many stars. I could see pinks and blues, I’ve never seen them before.

I felt the tears come pretty easily. I felt all of my feelings pass through me - joy, sadness, relief, grief, guilt. I was exhausted but it was so nice and quiet - I could hear my son and his bestie giggling by the outdoor fire, could hear my husband laughing with my friend’s parents…

But it was quiet too. I realised it was my mind that had finally become quiet.

This is what respite is. And why it’s so important. Without it, we cannot show up for our families and each other. Without it, we disappear from our communities.

I am the director of Awhi Ngā Mātua. I came on as a contractor but eventually it became an enormous part of my life. I couldn’t leave. I became the director. The idea of Awhi was that it was for parents of disabled, medically fragile and neurodivergent tamariki and it was run by those parents too. It is a community.

We are guided by initial focus groups run way back in 2019, where families told us what they needed. We carry their stories with us - we carry those parents and carers with us. One parent said her only social interaction was road patrol.

I think about her often. I think about the families with no respite since March after the government cut and restricted the criteria for funding for support for carers.

I think about how I feel today, after two days of respite. I feel like I can go on. Like I can show up. Not just for my family but for you, for my community, for parents who need support.

Before our wedding, before we had our babies and before we knew what life would look like, my husband and I chose a reading that we thought summed up what our relationship was to us.

It’s by Michael Blumenthal and it’s called A Marriage.

You are holding up a ceiling
with both arms. It is very heavy,
but you must hold it up, or else
it will fall down on you. Your arms
are tired, terribly tired,
and, as the day goes on, it feels
as if either your arms or the ceiling
will soon collapse.

But then,
unexpectedly,
something wonderful happens:
Someone,
a man or a woman,
walks into the room
and holds their arms up
to the ceiling beside you.

So you finally get
to take down your arms.
You feel the relief of respite,
the blood flowing back
to your fingers and arms.
And when your partner’s arms tire,
you hold up your own
to relieve him again.

And it can go on like this
for many years
without the house falling.

Photo by Daniel Funes Fuentes

We had no idea then just how much we would cling to this poem and how it would be our approach not just to marriage but to parenting and survival too.

It reminds me a lot of activism and advocacy.

The community is so very tired. We need arms to help to hold us. I worry that the house will fall.

Sometimes it feels like you don’t know how or where you can help. You don’t know what you can do. Sometimes you feel whakama, like you can’t ask.

We need to ask more. But we also need to face this cruel government by giving more.

Last week I shared Little things you can do for your community 🌱 I try to do posts like these as often as I can. And there’s always a need out there for them. Due to exhaustion, I mucked up sending it out and only sent it to paid subscribers. So I’m going to share it again, please click through:

I’m also going to share five ways you can show up for your community (some of these double up with the post above!).

1. Buy a raffle ticket to support families in Gaza. Today (30 September) is the last day to do this. If you can’t donate, sharing helps heaps!

2. Donate to the Te Tiriti Hīkoi Fund: 38 9012 0576745 22 This is especially for those who are tauiwi and able to give something to support the hīkoi from Te Tai Tokerau to Parliament to reassert the mana and rangatiratanga of ngā hapu and oppose the Principles of the Treaty Bill. If you can’t donate, sharing helps heaps!

3. Tag your local MP or write to your local MP with a link to the story about carers from RNZ - Carers reflect on six months since shock disability cuts. Share on social media the #didntvote4dis campaign on Instagram. And the #didntvote4dis campaign on Facebook.

4. Together for Te Tiriti is an initiative led by the progressive, people-powered organisation ActionStation Aotearoa. It’s about protecting and honouring Te Tiriti in the face of continued attacks by the government. Order posters, bumper stickers, and placards you can order here to display to show your support for Te Tiriti.

5. Consider volunteering - Many people aren’t volunteering due to the cost of living meaning they’re having to pick up second and even third jobs. But if you do have some time - consider casual or one-off volunteering roles. There are 17 regional Volunteer Centres is connecting volunteer communities across Aotearoa - you can find your region here. You can also use online volunteering websites - there’s a list here. Even just having a look through the roles is a great first step! There’s virtual roles and roles that only require two hours a month….You can choose!

shifa.project

A post shared by @shifa.project

I was so touched by the emails and messages I got last week about how posts like these can help to direct people to where they can help.

I think we are all really exhausted and it can be hard to even know where to begin when it comes to helping others.

But the beginning is what matters most. Just begin. With one little thing, then another. It all adds up and it all matters.

I remember being an idealistic young teen and hanging out with the crust punks and commies - it was there I got my education on mutual aid, community, being a good comrade and good troublemaking.

I remember a woman who must have been in her 70s who would come by the abandoned old community hall we used to hang in. We hung on every word she said and I remember being brought to tears as she railed against austerity and said: “Never forget! WE SAVE US! WE SAVE US!”

Whenever I feel overwhelmed I remember that. The government will not save us. We save us. We keep us safe. The people will save the people.

I believe in us.