swine issue 3 • 2020
thank you to our subeditors: Jessica Murdoch Andrew Dopper Madison Bryce Molly Davidson
contents Editor's Letter • Tina Tsironis Meet The Team • Tina Tsironis, Zoe Abletez The Natural State of Things • Millicent Spencer Change • Elise Cara The Laugh of My Higher Self • Grace Ashford Redefining Happiness with the Resilience Project • Tayla Botelho Some Days, and the Rest • Girish Gupta A Split-second Moment of Awareness • Tina Tsironis Learning • Elise Cara Periscope • Vishwa Patel Perseverance in the Face of Hopelessness • Ella Paine Hope • Dr Wendy J. Dunn Marking a Point in Time • Jessica Murdoch Independent • Elise Cara Look on the Bright Side, and Other Terrible Pieces of Life Advice • Kathryn Lamont Interview With A Union President • Tina Tsironis
Cover Photo by Pawel Bukowski on Unsplash
editor’s letter W
ow, hasn’t this year been a doozy? Every single SWINE print edition for this year has recorded, in my overtly zany words, the ridiculous sense of upheaval that we continue to experience month after month, as Swinburne students. Cast your mind back to February’s Recreation edition, where I wrote about the terrible bushfires that were still raging throughout much of Australia. Then, in my editor’s letter for April’s Representation edition, I reflected upon the surreal, halted timeline we were only beginning to reside within, right after the threat of COVID-19 had eventuated into a full-blown reality. And now, in my last editor’s letter ever for the SWINE (), I’m reflecting on the fact we continue to reside within this surreal timeline – only its strangeness, as we know all too well, has recently been kicked up a few notches.
But somehow, we’re dealing. Swinburne students have been dealing, the SWINE team have been dealing, and the wonderfully talented, creative, enthusiastic SWINE contributors have been dealing. More than dealing, in fact. Our writers have stepped up and taken their uncertainty, grief and malaise, and moulded these emotions into our last print edition for the year: our Resilience Edition. After adapting to Swinburne’s distinct (yet understandable) lack of on-campus culture this year, by taking our third edition online in the form of our eye-opening COVID-19 anthology, ending 2020 on this note feels incredibly apt. As part of the COVID series, our contributors wrote about grief, the lifestyle changes we’ve all experienced, and the various reactions, justified and otherwise, of the people (and media) around us. It’s only fitting that we would strive to end
2020 on a hopeful note. So, without further ado, welcome to the Resilience Edition. Let me make something clear, however – as inspirational as the concept of resilience is, this edition is not filled with images of people throwing their hands up into the sky, nor is it awash with the kind of toxic positivity that none of us will ever benefit from. Instead, our brilliant designer Zoe (who is back for another year next year!), skilled sub-editors Molly, Jessica, Madison, and Andrew, and of course, our incredible contributors, have created something far more real. Resilience isn’t throwing your arms up in the air and shouting ‘everything is great, and I’m grateful’ no matter what, after all. Rather, it is made up of all those little moments of hope that flicker subtly, yet powerfully, amongst the less hopeful ones. Honestly, I don’t want to give too much away – I want you to keep reading! But I will state that each poem, story, creative non-fiction piece and feature article within this edition has been crafted with the grit, humour, hope, and sheer honesty that you will relate to. Go on, keep reading. You won’t be disappointed. Also – my term as editor is wrapping up, so I just wanted to send out a heartfelt thanks to each and every one of our readers, contributors, editors, and supporters. I have had such a great time this year developing the SWINE’s unique voice, curating amazing content, reviving our online platform, and mentoring our burgeoning team. Most of all, I am thrilled that I have been able to work closely with numerous students, to help elevate their work to a place they can be wholeheartedly proud of. As editor, I never planned on
copyediting as many pieces as I could and simply throwing them into our print magazine. Instead, I sought to work with students who had something to say, and who cared about advocating for students through their work. Polishing the work of these contributors, and enabling them to get at the heart of what they aimed to convey, has been my absolute pleasure. Thank you to everyone who has helped me achieve these aims. It is because of you that we continue to propel our magazine to greater heights. With all that said, I could not be happier to be passing the baton off to the lovely Jessica Murdoch. I have no doubt that Jess will continue curating the SWINE into a student media powerhouse. She is creative, intelligent, nurturing, and damn good at editing – all the ingredients required to make a standout SWINE editor. The entire SWINE team is incredibly excited to work with Jess from November 1 this year – myself included! Though I am not returning as editor next year, I am returning as Communications Officer of the Swinburne Student Union. This means that I will be overseeing the SWINE team and ensuring that our magazine and overall media community continues to move from strength to strength. Stay tuned - 2021 is set to be an exciting year, with plenty of opportunities for Swinburne students, staff and alumni to curate incredible stories, tell their own, and gain plenty of valuable experience while doing so. Here’s to a surreal yet successful year. I hope to see you all on campus next year! Love and hugs, Tina xx
meet the team tina Currently: binge-watching BoJack Horseman for the third time (did you expect anything different from me?), and oddly enough, blasting a lot of Vanessa Amorosi to get me through the remainder of 2020. Her tunes are so uplifting and inspiring! They balance out the sheer existentialism of BoJack, okay?
zoe
Isolation has got me bleaching my hair, sleeping too much, and going for unnecessarily long walks. I also just finished watching the entirety of New Girl and I’m dreaming of living in a gorgeous loft surrounded by ridiculous life long friends.
the natural state of things Millicent Spencer
T
he impact of COVID-19 on the music industry has been immense. Datacaptioning program I Lost My Gig currently estimates that $340M has been lost from industry cancellations and postponements due to the pandemic. Meanwhile, a national survey collected by the ABS between the 16th- 23rd of March showed that 73% of arts and recreation businesses had been adversely affected due to COVID. Despite these roadblocks, Melbourne-based band Natural State are taking the COVID blues and moulding them into a feel-good ballad, one that highlights their continued
resilience amidst the trials and tribulations of life. Natural State has a truly organic origin, growing out of friendship and a mutual passion for music. The band formed when guitarist Ignacio Melgarejo, and drummer Zephryn Williams, met in high school. Melgarejo had been playing Metallica on his own, and when he decided he needed a drummer, he approached Williams. Melgarejo asked Williams to play a basic rock beat. “I picked it up and I was able to imitate him very fast,� remembers Williams.
When he went home and asked his Dad for a drum kit, he agreed. Williams still plays that very same kit to this day. The pair continued to play together every couple of months, despite attending different schools. Vocalist Mikhala Grubb came into the scene on Williams’ last day of Year 12. He recounts, “[I had] my very last exam, which was Japanese, and because I went to such a small school, my exam was carried out at a different school. When I arrived there, there's only one other girl in the class and that was Mikhala.” After the exam, Grubb explained, “we just started talking and he mentioned that he was wanting to start up a band and we messaged afterwards.” After realising they had a mutual friend in Melgarejo, Williams invited Grubb to play some music with them. She says, “…that's kind of what solidified it.” Natural State is made up of a mixture between trained and self-taught musicians. “We all completed VCE music, and then we each went into different types of music outside of school,” says Williams. “Mikhala started studying music as part of her arts course and Iggy went into engineering and started mucking around with building different guitars and different sounds.” According to the band, Melgarejo’s daily walk is described as a “grocery shop”, where he often finds random objects on the street for the band to use. Williams’ current cowbell, in fact, was picked up by Melgarejo on his commute home. “You can never have enough cowbells,” Williams laughs.
Grubb says the band came up with their name after practising in Williams’ garden, which she describes as a “little urban jungle[.]”. The garden’s capacity for inspiring creativity is no surprise, with Melgarejo explaining that it is “an awesome place to practice. There’s a water feature always going in the background.” It is this creativity, along with a solid understanding of the group’s shared intentions, that continues to unite Natural State, and keep the group grounded during periods of uncertainty. Periods which have led the band towards a hiatus, on more than one occasion. “It’s that level of honesty that really sets us up to be able to go through periods where we don't see each other or put creating music on hold. We'll always know that we'll come back to it eventually because there is that intention and honesty between us and in a way, I think that is a sort of resilience,” Grubb explains. She adds that putting the band on hold is not a big deal, because their goal was never to become successful, but rather, to express a shared interest in music. “It’s quite a good opportunity to get more material, write more stuff, and get life experience from what's happening, then come back when we can and be really inspired to continue creating music as a band.” Grubb believes that these periods of hiatus mirror the effects of COVID-19 on the band, explaining, “there are many aspects of my life at the moment that have, in a sense, been put on pause. But again, I don't see that as something that's being taken away from me, it’s just a different
experience. It's a good opportunity to focus on other aspects of things.” “I think a lot of people at the moment have been feeling more introspective and they've been focusing more on themselves…and you know what it's like to have all this time to yourself and not be swimming in life outside of home. And I think, again, it's a really good opportunity if you take the time to really seize it, to learn more about different parts of yourself and your life.” Melgarejo agrees. “I've always seen the band as an idea more than an actual solar thing. So, you can't really kill an idea. For me, every time there’s been a pause, I'm like, cool. Like that's always in the back burner and I go and do other things.” Every single time the band has hit the pause button, they’ve “learnt something more about the world. I feel like we all just go out and learn something else and bring it back.” Viewing these periods of hiatus as an organic part of life, rather than a sign that Natural State’s members simply cannot be bothered putting effort into the band, is key, according to Williams. “It's [more like] ‘oh dude, you have an exam, we'll cancel music for tonight. Good luck, if there's anything we can do, we'll help.” “You can grow as a person, completely as an individual away from these people, but no matter what, you're still the same person,” Williams continues. “When you come back to them, you may have different experiences, you may know different things, you may act slightly different, but you're still the same person.” Whether the band pause their music production again, or even stop talking to each other for select periods of time, Williams has no doubt that Natural State will continue making music together. Even if their production process and execution is a strikingly different than what it used to be. “It may be that the band changes dynamic. We might lose a member and
It’s that level of honesty that really sets us up to be able to go through periods where we don't see each other or put creating music on hold.
gain another member, but the attitude towards the band will always be the same. As long as we're able to achieve our own goals as individuals, then the band will be there to support and push our lives to higher limits, [towards] more happiness in general.” Because they can’t gig at the moment, Natural State are focusing on recording their work, which Williams says is “something that we've been meaning to do for a very long time.” The band is “lucky” to be able to focus on releasing the songs they have developed from playing gigs and heightening their online presence. “When we tell people about Natural State, now, they're like, ‘Oh, I really loved what you played. Do you have a recording?’ And we have recordings, but none of them are out on the internet and none of them are up to the degree of perfection that we want.” When pubs and venues finally reopen and the music industry begins its recovery, Grubb predicts that there will be heightened public interest in live music and events. As a musician, she is keen to experience this reaction. “When everyone has been stuck inside for so long, including us, it's going to be such a good opportunity to be able to get back out there right when it's what people are wanting.” Williams advises that this timeframe will be imperative to musicians hoping to improve and become more well-known. “It's not that it's impossible to improve post that era, but using society in its best situation, I think is the best way to get anywhere.” “Music's just so immersive,” Grubb adds. “People really feel it and get right into it, dancing, you know. Whenever I went to events before all this COVID stuff, it was always about the vibe and what I expected it to feel like being there, that really motivated me to go and want to be there as well. So, I think that feeling of being in a really energetic environment with music and lots of people enjoying themselves, is something
I think that feeling of being in a really energetic environment with music and lots of people enjoying themselves, is something that people have been really missing at the moment.
that people have been really missing at the moment.” While Melgarejo says that when it comes to the gigs, the group may not miss the sticky floors or the alcohol, but they do miss being around people who are there for the exact same reason they are. “You go to a gig for the randomness of what could happen, I think, and having all those people there really makes the vibe. So, it's gonna be weird. I have no idea how [we will] keep social distancing while trying to get that vibe back.” Upon reflecting on their pre-COVID performances, the band’s infamous gig in a Melbourne laneway stands out. According to Grubb, one day the band thought, “Hey, wouldn't it be cool to play in an alleyway? Pretty likely we'll get kicked out, but you know, why don't [we] do it?” They went ahead with the idea and used Melgarejo’s engineering skills and Williams’ carpentry skills to put together batteries to power the event. Despite being shut down, Grubb recounts the experience fondly. “I never had thought that I could do that as an individual, but having everyone in this band making these ideas a reality is what's so exciting about what we do.” Melgarejo echoes this sentiment, saying, “even if we dream too big and like, end up coming massively short on the actual finished product, we still accomplish a lot more.” Williams agrees that Natural State achieved more by taking a risk and choosing to play in the alley instead of a simple open mic event – as disheartening as the experience was at the time. “You know, they’re two drastically different things and yes, we
got shut down, but it was such a strange experience. You know, we were almost depressed afterwards. We'd spent three weeks organising this event and one band played and we were about to sit down and play and someone comes up and they're like, ‘uh, you got 15 minutes to clear this up.” Williams says his favourite gig came after the band played two shows in one weekend, with the second gig going until four in the morning. “We were all destroyed, mentally and physically…. like Jesus, that's a lot of music.” The next night, however, they played at “this really cool bar” surrounded by friends. “We were able to just hang out and enjoy it. There was no stress of performance or expectation. Even though it wasn't as big of a highlight or milestone as the laneway gig was or our very first gig. It was highly enjoyable and definitely a memory.” The gig was also memorable to Williams because it marked the first time he used the new equipment he bought. “I got a new drum kit and I had spent a couple of thousand dollars on it. I was able to carry it all the way to the venue on a train, I didn't even need a car!” When I ask the band what they would have told themselves at the start of 2020, Williams says “hurry up and start recording. You have the time and you’ve got nothing better to do.” Melgarejo’s sentiment is similar, though gentler. “We’re really polished now, our timing is good, I guess we gotta record now and put stuff out there and make more friends.”
Even if we dream too big and like, end up coming massively short on the actual finished product, we still accomplish a lot more.
change change change change change change change change change change change change change change change change
change change change change change change change change change change change change change change change change
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Photo by Brittany Bendabout on Unsplash
When you change so fast, everyone who knows you seems to still think of you as who you were when they saw you last. When you change as a person everyone still thinks you are the old you, and it is possible that your relationship with them could worsen. If this should happen, I do not care. I have changed, and cannot be who I used to be. It wouldn’t be fair. I won’t prevent myself evolving, just to keep certain people there.
Elise Cara
the laugh of my higher self
Photo by Sina Katirachi on Unsplash
No thoughts, head empty. Curtains drawn; legs curled tightly to my chest; body shrunk into the foetal position. What’s the point? To selfsoothe? Or to shrink myself impossibly small so as to disappear from the day? I’m playing hide and seek from reality, except no one’s trying to find me. Certainly not myself. I surrender another business day, and busy myself with TikTok. My standards are so low that this horizontal absorption of content provides me with a warped sense of productivity. No thoughts, head empty. The outside world sounds like white noise. The hum of a ringing ear following a live concert. The sound is too loud to decipher the lengthy to-do lists residing my brain - or is it that they’re written in a different language? My incapacity this last week to carry on is painfully comparable to a sex dream. The kind of seductive rendezvous with stimulation which, though momentarily, ignites a rich, fruitful sense of achievement through my core. Endorphins pumping, stress relieved, all I want is to feel that concrete, intimate bond with success again. There were so many new projects I started, only to have the spring removed from my spine, rendering me limp and unqualified. I rub my eyes and the smudges from three-day-old mascara transfer onto the back of my hand. I squint just enough to make out my
higher self in the distance, shaking with laughter at my pitiful state. How embarrassing for me to forget that this is my true reality. Sex dreams are just that, aren’t they? Dreams. Existing inside my head, occasionally making a glorious, endorphin-pumping appearance, only to leave before I wake up. Except. In a couple weeks’ time, I will be reminded of the fact that, like all things in nature, everything is temporary, and this too shall pass. The path of most resistance leads to the destination of most fulfilment, because simply by existing, it proves the strength it takes to get there. Technicolour will return, and with it more examples of my capability to dance, learn, grow and flourish. It will return just as we are about to forget what it looked like. In a fashion as cyclical as the appearance of warm, delicious spring weather following a harsh winter, because we humans are animals and nature is our core. How else are we able to exercise gratitude? It is when this happens that I will spy my higher self, gazing at me again. Only this time, I will see her right in front of me, in the mirror. It is then that I realise… she wasn’t laughing at my struggling self after all. She simply found it ridiculous to believe that I would be unable to persevere as I have done for my entire life. Being the strong, powerful and resilient woman I am.
Grace Ashford
redefining happiness with the resilience project Tayla Botelho Photo by Alex Cherneko on Unsplash
M
eet the team behind The Resilience Project - an Australian initiative encouraging positive conversation around mental health, and inspiring new perspectives on bouncing back. Strengthening the conversation around mental health, The Resilience Project is an initiative driving home the importance of turning challenges into opportunities, and rebuilding perspectives on life in schools and organisations across Australia. The team at The Resilience Project use a unique method of mastering your perspective, focusing on Gratitude, Empathy and Mindfulness. These three pillars of positivity are evidence-based, and proven to establish a solid sense of wellbeing, positive mental health, emotional literacy, and even physical health
(that’s right‌you can get swole by feeling whole). The founders of the project have ensured their initiative is accessible to the growing minds of Australia’s youth as well as being palatable to the corporate giants of the capitalist playground. Essentially, The Resilience Project is designed to foster emotional engagement and lead diverse communities into a much happier and fulfilling experience.
Hugh Van Cuylenburg (left) and Martin Heppell (right) presenting for The Resilience Project. The founding director of the program is bestselling author Hugh van Cuylenburg. After an eye-opening volunteer-teaching experience at an underprivileged school in the Himalayas, Hugh told me his mindset was transformed. “It was this experience, and subsequent post-graduate studies,” says Hugh, "that led me to some pretty simple conclusions about the things that we need to be doing here in Australia if we want to be happier”. After 10 years of working in over 1,000 schools, Hugh and his co-partner Martin Heppell now travel the country speaking about their life experiences and solidifying mental health as a key factor to living a happy existence. “We believe that we all have good and bad days,” Martin shares, “and it’s about knowing what to do when dealing with negative emotions and knowing what to do to experience positive emotions.” With his status as a former AFL footballer and his extensive experience in primary teaching, Martin shares his passion for failing forward, drawing on years of experience, and over 1,700 presentations to elite sporting organisations and corporations. “Every time I have failed, I have grown”, he says. “My mindset is that the everyday failures will make me a better person down the track.” The Resilience Project’s work establishes that a person’s place in the spectrum of
mental health begins young. These figures are clear when we zero in on the fact that, according to Beyond Blue and the Black Dog Institute, 1 in 7 primary school kids experience mental illness, and one in five adults face mental health fluctuations throughout the year. Hugh and Martin’s positive strategies and “failing upwards” ethos enable the pair to connect with over one million Australians as part of The Resilience Project. One million more Australians, hopefully, who understand that they deserve to live a better life. “My advice is to be proud of who you are but know that you are not perfect,” Martin says. “That is what makes you awesome.” If you or someone you know is struggling, we encourage you to contact a health professional, or someone you trust, for support and guidance. Support is also available using the following helplines: Beyond Blue 24/7 advice, referral and support from a trained mental health professional, call 1300 224 636 Lifeline Crisis support and suicide prevention services, call 13 11 14 Qlife Anonymous and free LGBTQI+ peer support and referral for individuals wanting to talk about sexuality, identity, gender, bodies, feelings or relationships. Call 1800 184 527 Headspace Support and information for young people 12-25 to speak to qualified mental health professionals, call 1800 650 89
some days, Some days I cry myself to sleep, and the rest I nap like a baby Some days I run away when judged, and the rest I smile at them, maybe Some days no filters can make me look good, and the rest I’m enough as I am Some days I starve myself for weight, and the rest I eat as much as I can Some days self-love looks like a party, and the rest just a book to be read Some days pizza makes me happiest, and the rest, it is just bread Some days I drown myself in sorrow, and the rest I swim in champagne Some days I spill tears in the shower, and the rest I dance in the rain Some days my smile is plastic, a facade, and the rest it shines through my eyes Some days I count my worries infinite, and the rest they’re clouds in my skies
Photo by Connor Pope on Unsplash
Some days I shout at the table, and the rest I sit back, all quiet Some days I’m darkness of nights, and the rest I shine, bright defiance Some days I’m the brown leaves of fall, and the rest I bloom and grow Some days I’m a wreck as I am, and the rest a fucking glam show Some days I’m an artist, all noob, and the rest I’m heavenly art Some days I do my best to survive, and the rest I don’t even start Some days the world falls apart, and the rest I hug it together Some days I feel worse than it all, and the rest, I feel so much better
and the rest Girish Gupta
a split-second moment of awareness Tina Tsironis
Photo by Ava Sol on Unsplash
A
flush of white-hot pain singes my lower back, and for the second time tonight, I’m reminded that this is completely out of my control. I don’t think I need to tell you that childbirth is scary. But for someone used to having such a firm grasp on the threat of pain, danger, or even a microcosm of inconvenience that would cause anybody else to shrug and remark “eh, she’ll be right”; this…well, I have no words. This is so far out of the realm of my vocabulary. It doesn’t help that the room is deathly silent. The lights are turned down low, except for one light shining directly onto my stomach. Everybody is focused on one thing and one thing only – my slowly dilating vagina. Axel’s hand grasps mine tightly, but with none of his typical boneaching vigour. There’s no cheerful dialogue, either. The staff watch me with small, firm smiles, but no words. Am I silly for expecting their scrubs to flop energetically around their bodies as they cheer me on and engage in boisterous medical-speak that goes way over my head? No. Not silly. Painfully misguided, maybe. I wouldn’t be bouncing around cheerfully if they were forced to birth the son that died inside them five hours earlier, so why should I expect them to be acting that way? Maybe the drugs are kicking in. Please let the drugs be kicking in. Minutes later the numbing agent has finally
taken full effect, and the drugs have indeed kicked in. To my surprise, pushing with an epidural is far from easy. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s strange and unnatural, like my hips are made of jelly. My god…I’m uncoordinated on a good day. Pushing out a baby when I’ve lost my faculties seems completely foreign to me. There’s no way I can do this. “What if I do it wrong? What if I hurt him more?” “You’re doing fantastically and you’re doing it right, Rebecca,” the nurse says, his firm smile sloping downwards slightly. “Keep going.” “He’s almost there, Bec,” Axel follows, squeezing my hand. The urge to stop pushing, to keep everything neat and tidy and intact, is gaining on me with the speed of an outof-control freight train. It’s clashing messily with the euphoric sense of ease the epidural has provided me with, and all I want to do is stop, give up all control, and let it win. But somehow, I find myself squeezing Axel’s hand harder. As selfish as I feel for dredging up this moment of optimism, as scared and guilty and angry as I am otherwise, a split-second moment of awareness that somehow, we will get through this, propels me to keep pushing.
learning learning Elise Cara
I need to do whatever it takes to learn from my mistakes As I am growing through this journey I am still learning I find it hard to avoid being too hard on myself I know it is detrimental to my mental health, but— I know that I cannot turn back time, and the reality of this aches I need to do whatever it takes to learn from my mistakes.
Photo by Greg Kantra on Unsplash
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periscope
Photo by Sora Sagano on Unsplash
11.32pm, 2019 I stand at the sink, leaping forward, stomach acid bubbling up the lining of my throat. I look up at myself as the last tear flows, like a river shaping its course on my barren cheek. I see a prism of reflection: eye-tear-mirrortear-eye. “This is a periscope and it is beautiful,” is what I tell myself. My lips quiver, and in rebellion, I press them hard. They bleed after I pull the last bit of dead skin, and I curl on the floor like a foetus. A sharp throb pulses through my temples, making me realise I am still alive. I know I exist. I wait for the dizziness to retreat and fall asleep on the floor until I’m woken up by the tingles in my numb feet. Evening walk: Covid times, 2020 Alongside a small pond, I wander, drawing from the knowledge of half a dozen books on Hinduism, Japanese Mindfulness, Yoga, and Genetics, and poems by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. I hear the children singing three little ducks went out one day and observe the swans by the pond and the algae growing in abundance on the rocks. It starts to drizzle after I reach home, and by the time I get to the backyard with a cup of coffee, the rain has gone. I see the sunlight dancing on the surface of tiny water puddles forming a shapeless rainbow; or more technically, the phenomenon of dispersion of light. I sit on the wet synthetic lawn and see more of these puddles and rainbows. “This is a periscope and it is beautiful,'' is what I tell myself. I Spotify an old Bollywood song and think about rivers, peacocks and paper boats. I lie down until I’m woken up by the tingling of an ant in my feet. I know I exist. Over the past two years, my mood has constantly oscillated between these two extremities. There is so much I am not able to put into words or talk about, and I still find myself unable to reach out to anyone. I have not yet achieved the peace that I seek, so I am not equipped to advise anybody on what resilience looks like. All I am here for is to ask you to hang in there and realise that in no time, the sun will rise again.
Photo by Rezon Unsplash
perseverence in the face of hopelessness Ella Paine
I
lay awake in bed; anxiety-ridden questions filling my mind.
When will I get my license? When will I make something of myself? When will I grow up? I feel stuck in the same place I was a year ago: living at home as a 17-year-old girl, far from reaching her goals and ambitions. Now, I feel even further. As a kid, I would always deal with grievances and uncertainties in a particular way. I would cry at every primary school camp, missing the closeness of my family and the routine of everyday life. It wasn’t really a cry of sadness - more of a cry of necessity. As though it was bound to come, and I should just lay back and endure it. So each year, when everyone else was asleep, I would lay on the bottom bunk of an eight-person cabin in the Victorian winter, teeth chattering (because my sleeping bag was designed for summer), and I would let the tears fall. The thing is, I was sure that I could get through my anguish. It was manageable and I could always deal with it, because I knew that when I woke up, it would be morning. All those emotions would be gone, and I would be swinging on giant swings and competing in scavenger hunts with my friends again. It wasn’t the physical act of crying that was my coping mechanism. It was the constant reassurance that everything comes to an end, and that I just need to get through the hard bit first. Now I’m thinking about the lessons past Ella can teach me.
Photo by Joao Voltolini on Unsplash
hope Dr. Wendy J. Dunn
From the party next door loud music erases possibility of sleep I lay in bed and think of the young Our young facing a future when the planet burns (If not burning now) I think of our young in city streets absent from school told activism is not for them but already knowing learning is to be used and not left to rot Now, somehow, the music from the party next door offered hope The young our young continue to make noise claiming their day
Claiming hope
The dance goes on.
Photo by Gayatri Malhotra on Unsplash
Photo by Andrej Lisakov on Unsplash
marking a point in time Jessica Murdoch Content Note: mental health/suicide
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eliberate, measured calm. An overemphasised projection of cool. The buzzing whirr begins, and the artist’s eyes flick up from my tensed arm. ‘Relax.’ He grins. ‘Nothing but a tickle.’ Ostensibly, this is an impulsive act. I’m not generally known as someone prone to making rash decisions. I like to overthink, over-analyse and weigh the pros and cons. It’s interesting though, how making the big decisions (moving cities, quitting my job, starting over) often seem to culminate in an apparent snap decision like this. Technically, this is an idea that has been years in the making. For a long while, it’s been more about the plan rather than the follow-through. But now, the movement from grand plan to action is swift and sudden. Perhaps the longer you prepare, the further away the act seems, until the moment an opportunity presents itself and you grab it with both hands. We’re on a tight schedule and decisions have to be made. I’m a lot less sure about the details now that it’s actually happening, no longer just a fanciful concept. But when deciding how to permanently mark your skin, ‘we’ll-see-how-it-goes’ is probably
not the right attitude. ‘No problem,’ he says, as I apologise for making him reapply the temporary template. ‘We gotta get this right.’ Waiting to go second may have been a mistake. The anticipation is being stretched out. On the other hand, watching my sibling’s stoic calm is reassuring. The genuine lack of discomfort as the needle screeches on the back of their neck. The nonchalant grin as the bright ink is wiped away from the circular script positioned around the semicolon. They climb back up off the cushioned bench with ill-concealed glee as they turn back to me. ‘Your turn!’ The truth is, we’ve been conceptualising this tattoo for almost ten years. Alice in Wonderland - ‘we’re all mad here.’ Hardly original or unique, which is well-evidenced by the plethora of examples that appear when you plug the phrase plus ‘tattoo’ into Google. But to us, (as I’m sure is the case for every proud owner of whatever variation is inked onto their skin) these words mean something. ‘Ready?’ There’s a slight sting as the needle first hits my skin. Then the gentle, steady strokes become almost soothing. I can understand how people get addicted to
this. My sibling is on leave from a stay at the Melbourne Clinic where they are undergoing psychiatric treatment, hence the tight schedule. This shared story has been our touchstone. Something to return to from before we were facing all of this. But we’ve reached a new chapter and to mark it, this tattoo is finally happening. We’ve incorporated a semicolon not only because we’re grammar nerds but because, as my sibling explained, reading from Project Semicolon’s website, ‘a semicolon is used when an author could’ve chosen to end their sentence but chose not to. The author is you, and the sentence is your life.’ The artist’s needle overlaps the semicolon one last time. It’s small, precise work. A final wipe across the words, ‘done. See, too easy.’ The actual act of inking is over quickly. He’s right. Nothing more than a light scratch. Looking over at my sibling, we both shrug. It was simple. But this is more than the simple act of bonding over our first tattoo. It’s a permanent reminder of what’s been happening over the past few years, marking a point in time. A point in time where we celebrate making a choice. You can find out more about Project Semicolon on their website, projectsemicolon.com or Facebook page. If you are struggling with your mental health, please contact crisis support service Lifeline. Their helpline is accessible 24/7, at 13 11 14.
we’re all mad here we’re all mad here we’re all mad here we’re all mad here
independent independent
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Am I even ready to love again? I found more friends I found more joy I found that only on myself do I need to depend, and nobody has my heart in their hands to destroy I found inner strength I found some pride I found out what I am against, and I found that it is okay to cry I feel content I feel okay on my own I feel like I have learnt I feel that I have grown So, am I even ready to love again? ...who really knows? Elise Cara
look on the bright side,
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and other terrible pieces of life advice Kathryn Lamont
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ave you ever done the thing? You know, the thing you’re not supposed to do? Where one splash of negativity sends everything else in your life spiraling, until you’re stuck stumbling down the rabbit hole of mistakes, missteps and misery. The type of spiral that transforms a small inconvenience into a springboard for questioning life choices. You find yourself cringing over decade old mistakes and crumbling over the sheer enormity of everything just plain wrong with right now. How did this happen? Personally, I don’t bother to look into the details because wallowing feels safer and easier than confronting the cause. We’re taught our whole lives that negativity is the enemy. So, why not bury it down until it’s forced to leak out? By this point, we’ve probably left it too late for an easy fix. We’re likely worked up about more than one thing. We’re tired from having everything go wrong. It’s like the emotional equivalent of putting off every assignment until the last day, and then dealing with the due date. All we can do now is stress, and claw our way to a pass. No. This thing we do - this is worse than that. Now we’re stuck facing the
compounding stress of all our issues, big and small. On their own they seem manageable; but crammed together they straight up suck. I think we can all agree that nobody likes the thing. So, what can we do? Let’s pick our poison: Should we look on the bright side, find the silver lining and turn that frown upside down with a cando attitude? Or, should we soldier on and suck it up, finding motivation in reminding ourselves how much worse it could be? Yikes. Okay, in all honestly, both options sound like terrible ways to avoid feeling like human garbage (a baseline, I would say, in any decent crisis management strategy). But those are what we usually choose to do, right? We push our emotions down and plaster on a mask of optimism or indifference, saying ‘I’m fine’, when we’re not, or ‘it’s okay’, when it isn’t. All the while, we’re stewing away. Why? Because our emotions don’t care about maintaining appearances. They only care about us. If we don’t deal with our emotions, we
don’t provide ourselves the opportunity to accept the situation we’re in – like a toddler dragging their heels out against the will of the universe.
The root of resilience comes from overcoming adversity, not just learning to live with it. It’s so easy to get caught up in all that’s going bad, that we forget about the things going well. We forget about finding solutions. We forget about moving forward. All we can think about is fairness, and fault, and how everyone else seems to have it more together than we do. We consider ourselves selfish for daring to consider our insignificant issues important. And maybe we grow a little bit more bitter, and little bit more isolated. Horrible, right? But what to do? We’ve got to normalise this. Normalise feeling down, or having a bad day, or being disappointed. You can’t overcome something you’re trying to ignore. And, if we don’t have the instant impulse to kick anything unpleasant to the curb, we can ask ourselves why. Why are we feeling how we’re feeling, really?
When you start thinking of your gut reactions as signs, you can break the negative spiral, stop dwelling, and start to positively adjust. Because now you’re thinking about answers and next steps, not the things you can’t control. Everyone thinks that resilience is this big show of courage, really, it’s about continuing on being the best you can be, despite any external forces trying to wreck your vibes. Trust me, actually feeling better is a lot nicer than prematurely forcing a happy ending. And, if you’re not there yet, be gentle with yourself. Resilience is about knowing you’re not alone in this chaos; remembering the easy-to-ignore good things; and reminding yourself that while you can’t control what happens to you in life, you only need to live today once. I’m trying to start viewing my emotions as indications. You don’t burn your car just because it has the audacity to tell you to check the oil. I’ve got to pick myself up. We all do. But taking a second to catch your breath and take stock isn’t going to hurt anyone. If anything, it’ll give you a chance to remember that you’re amazing, and help you find your footing. So that when the next critical moment comes, you know you can get through it, one step at a time.
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he final instalment of our 2020 Swinburne Student Union (SSU) Interview Series is a perfect fit for our Resilience edition. Editor Tina Tsironis spoke to 2020 President Param Mahal about the hurdles he has overcome as student and peak representative of 60,000+ students, how the SSU has delivered for students while working off-campus, and the new meaning that ‘resilience’ has taken on for him this year. T: How have you coped, being president of the Swinburne Student Union during an incredibly tough, destabilising year? P: This year has been quite exceptional. I initially felt this would be a throwaway year and we wouldn’t be able to do much. The whole team had been planning to make
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interview with a union
interview with a union president 2020 a great year but obviously all our plans couldn’t happen anymore. As the campus was about to shut down for the foreseeable future, I found myself in the unenviable position of poring over the Unions’ finances wondering if we’ll be able to make it out of this. At first it was quite disheartening, but I’m blessed with great representatives and staff.
We slowly worked through every problem that turned up and learnt how to anticipate the next one. The Union is in a great place right now, perhaps the best it has been in more than a decade, and most of the credit goes to the team and staff doing an exceptional job.
interview Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash
T: What are you most proud of achieving this year, as President? P:
This year has been a rollercoaster and students have been deeply impacted. Their studies have been disrupted by circumstances beyond their control, the repercussions of which we may not see for a while. I am particularly proud of the work we’ve done for student advocacy and welfare support. But if something stands out to me then it would be the successful “Extend Census Date” campaign. We’ve had bigger wins as an organisation since then, but this campaign was the first public campaign we ran in quite a while, and the engagement from students was overwhelming. Our members really backed us in early in this year and that helped build a momentum which surely played a large part in our advocacy capacity. T: Tell about your path towards President – how did you first get involved in the SSU? P: My journey towards President was quite eventful, I started out by being involved
w with a union president in various Swinburne clubs. Quite soon I was running one of the largest on campus, and organising events with hundreds of students. This really helped in developing my organisational skills and understanding the needs of the students. I got involved with the union through a by-election for Swinburne International Student Association Committee. As I became engaged more with the Union, I felt it can do more and should be doing more. Student Advocacy was something I was always passionate about so as 2017 came
to an end, I put my hand up to run for the 2018 Education Officer role in the SSU. The role really helped me understand the structure of the University and who I needed to lobby for specific student concerns. I feel I had a successful term as I oversaw the transition of the University’s online learning from Blackboard to Canvas. At that point I still had a lot to learn about the union itself and how it works, and I was elected as General Secretary for 2019. This was a perfect opportunity for me to contribute to developing and maintaining the SSU internally, and it really positioned me to be successful later on as President. Coming into this year I feel everything I have done in my journey has provided invaluable experience that hopefully made me a good President. T: What have you enjoyed most about being President? P: I think my most favourite part has been the love and support I have received in my role. As an international student, I may have been unfamiliar with quite a lot of things some would consider common knowledge. English is my third language and I knew there might be some resistance to me as President, fortunately my concerns were unnecessary.
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I can wholeheartedly say that students and colleagues alike have really made my job so much more enjoyable. We’ve worked hard this year and the pandemic didn’t help, but my team has really inspired me to push myself more (shout out to Welfare Officer Budveen and his annoying poking), and students have really gotten around everything we’ve done. Coming into this year I feared that if I mess this up, it may add fuel to the perception that international student may not be suitable to run a student union in Australia. At this point I can confidently say that I’m quite happy with my term and hopefully we continue representing all students as we have in the past few years. T: What kind of difficulties have you personally faced this year, both as a student and student unionist living through a global pandemic? P: I suppose this year has been quite a struggle on all fronts. I’ve never been the brightest student so I’ve always had to work hard on my studies. Studying from home in a lockdown hasn’t been pleasant, especially for STEM subjects. I also rely a lot on my classmates for keeping my head in my studies and being on top of deadlines. Now, I can say studying during COVID is quite a lonely experience. Thankfully, I live with three other beautiful human beings who keep me sane in all this. A lot of the work we did in the SSU relied heavily on our physical presence on campus. Our ability to connect with students and communicate effectively has been impeded quite heavily. I spent two
years learning how to be a good President only for the whole world to suddenly change. So it was tough in the beginning, but we just decided we will change with it as well and we’ve never looked back since then. T: Do you think the SSU team has learned any impactful lessons this year, that they will take with them into future years? P: I think the SSU as a whole has changed quite a lot over this year. There is genuinely a positive culture of “nothing can stop us from doing our job” that has developed. The greatest example of this would be our Free Feeds service we started in response to the lockdown and widespread financial instability of students. The Free Feeds has evolved multiple times to keep up with the changes to Government regulations we’ve moved from servicing through our Croydon Campus all the way to servicing in multiple areas within Melbourne. There is a lot of effort being put into providing support in the short term as well was strategizing long term support, for example through SSU Legal, the SSU’s Independent Legal Service set to launch this semester. The current situation has really fast tracked the professionalization of the organisation. T: What is one piece of advice you would give to students wanting to involve themselves in the student union movement? P:
The best advice I could offer would be, if you can identify problems with the student experience at Swinburne and wish someone did something about it, you are the right person to do it. The most important thing for the student union movement are students who genuinely care for each other and want to help. So put your hand up, volunteer for the union, partake in campaigns and before you know it you’d be facilitating tangible outcomes that make Swinburne a better place. T: What does resilience mean to you? P: I never really identified more with this word than I have this year. Sometimes the world gives you quite a lot of hurdles and you end up tripping over them a lot - I know I have. But thankfully, I have always managed to get up and jump higher the next time. Giving up has never been an option and my team has really supported me through this year. I feel resilience could be one of the most important things I’ve gained this year but even more important were the people around me who helped me up every time I tripped and pushed me further. In a way, they were the ones who made me more resilient.
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