In my Lifeline training I learned I can be one of three things, a signpost, a bus stop or a wailing wall. I have spent a lot of time being a wailing wall. I have cried with a lot of people. In my training days I cried with each member of the groups I trained. We all have a sad story in us, that is the touching point for all of us who are caregivers, the place where we can identify our own pain and in doing so feel the pain of others.It is in feeling the pain of others that we can be of some use to them. We too can become a signpost, a bus stop, or a wailing wall.

I think we all know what a bus stop is, the best way of seeing it in a way is through the movie "Forrest Grump", a bus stop is a place to tell your story, not wanting or needing any feedback, just telling it as it is each day. I have been a bus stop but it is not my real place to be. There is more to my journey than would be satisfied by that. But a lot of people have been that other person on the bus seat to me and I thank them for that.

I did not have the best childhood but I did have one that taught me a lot. In my innocence I skimmed through a lot of things that would have caused others to go under. I had strong parents and that helped me to be strong. I lost one of my best friends when I was nine and I learned to grieve, I learned about bad things happening to good people when a friend of mine was attacked, sad to think that bad things happen to children but ignoring that fact does not make us stronger, it simply makes us more afraid. To be in touch with reality makes us much more able to cope with the bad times as we see the bravery and courage of others in their own suffering.

I had parents that struggled to make our lives better. We were migrants and came to Australia with very little. I started work aged eleven when my parents bought a small business and I got to work in it after school and on weekends. I knew that it took all of our efforts to go onto the next stage in life, home ownership, enough money to be comfortable and I had to be a part of that plan. I didn't resent it until I was in my mid-teens up till then I thought it was just what families did. In my mid-teens I suddenly realised others did not have to do what I had to do. But it was still a good lesson for me.

I was lucky in my choice of life partner, Ray was a good man. We had 22 years of married life together before his first stroke, then the in between years when we both worked and then the major strokes in 1999 which retired us both. Some of those caregiving years were hard but I got to meet a lot of brave people in that time. Right from the first day Ray went to Bendigo Hospital I learned to appreciate those around us, the professionals,the helpers, the patients, the other significant others who were there as support. I lived in the old nurses home for six weeks and got to be friends with the other women staying there. We all returned after visiting hours and cried ourselves to sleep. I listened to their stories and saw my own anguish reflected in their eyes. I learned to be a caregiver by being surrounded with caring people.

Ray transitioned to Woy Woy Rehabilitation Unit and for the first time I realised that this was "forever", not realising how long forever would be. Twelve years is a long time to care for someone 24 hours a day but it wasn't a hard task, you just do that kind of thing one day at a time. For the first time I realised Ray had a mantra: "there is always someone worse off" and in rehab we certainly saw the battlers. One man, Larry, stands out as the real hero, eleven months from the brain stem stroke to walking out the door. Bravo Larry. And those younger than Ray who didn't make it, just couldn't do the rehab and get back home again, so sad.

It took me till May 2005 to find this site. By then I was desperate, fear of future strokes dominated my life, why did Ray keep having two years of recovery and then another stroke? Where would this all end (I know the answer to that now of course). So on I came, looking for help, support, information, some fellow feeling, people who would reach out to me, and of course that is exactly what I found, all of the above. And bless you all who were here right from the first, hoststephen, Denny, Bonnie who is now on a widowed site that I belong to, Jean, also on the same site, Fred, and of course thank you to Steve Mallory the founder of the site for being here and for making this site available to people like me desperate for answers.

And did I find answers? yes and no. I did not find the magic bullet, the charm that would turn my stroke affected husband back into the man I thought he should be. Instead I found a path to acceptance of how he was and a whole community of people who would support me when I went weak at the knees and knew in my own strength I could not hold on any longer. I never got to the point of suicide but some days must not have been far from there but I would come onto here and there was another caregiver expressing my thoughts, my concerns , my disillusionment and somehow like Ray I could gain strength from knowing that there was someone worse off than myself, because I did have friends and family and a roof over my head and others did not.

I became a chat host because I was asked to. I found it easy to be with people who had a common purpose, to make the most of the life they now had. I did general chat for a few years and then when caregiver chat started found a new place to be that signpost, bus stop and wailing wall. There were others there who ministered to me as I ministered to others and I have never found it an imposition, always a privilege to join in someone else's story. I was happy to be joined in the task by Sarah and Sally who were a great help to me and to know that when I was unable to be on the job one of them would take over and there was no loss of continuity. Sarah found the timing difficult but Sally is still there co-hosting with me. Thanks Sally.

The Blog Moderator job came later. As a blogaholic I was reading the site twice a day anyway so it was simply a matter of learning how to write a Blog report and it all came together. What a wonder it was to me to realise that stories were not static but ongoing, that I could follow someone else's story as it happened. That way I could rejoice at the improvements, commiserate with the failures and become a cheerleader in urging others on in their journey. Thank you to all those who allowed me to share in their stories.

This sounds like an ending but it is not. It is just a pause to reflect on how lucky I was to find this site, to be a part of this community and to know all of the people I have met because of that. Blessings to all in your struggle to find peace in acceptance.