ALL HAIL!: H.A.I.L. Fitness

I have had Rheumatoid Arthritis coming up to 13 years this September - and what a ride it has been! Crippling, enduring pain and fatigue, joint destruction, bone erosion, pericarditis, two jaw surgeries, a spinal surgery and a WHOLE lotta drugs later, taking care of myself is almost a full-time job. After two 8-day Ketamine infusions, epidural spinal blocks, Radio frequency Pulsed Neuro-modulation and a bunch of tried and failed new meds, I was referred to a new (second-time running) hospital administered Pain Rehabilitation program at a purpose-built, well-regarded hospital around 45 minutes from my home.

For a 3-hour session to be covered by Private Health Insurance, you had to attend (and ‘make the most of’) every single minute of that time. This meant a FULL 60 minutes of exercise in a group of women who were not only vulnerable, scared of their bodies but also IN CHRONIC PAIN.

The first red flag? The sessions times. A 1pm start is a well-known no-no for anyone who experiences chronic pain and is largely useless after around 2:30pm.

Recovery day. What recovery days? The two per week sessions had only a single day between them; not ideal for recovering in between sessions.

The format of the course? 2 hours of being lectured to/at, with booklets that weren’t the same as the presentations given in those times.

The physical therapy? Intense weight-bearing exercises for a full 60 minutes - occasionally, for 2 or 3 hours to ‘make the most of our time there’.

During my first session, the Psychologist told me my antidepressants were too high a dose (after knowing me 3 minutes, someone who has OCD, GAD, Panic Disorder and Severe Depressive disorder, and had been medicated continuously since I was 20 years old). She used ‘BMI’ to determine ‘health’ - and despite some of the participants in the group (including me) with a history of suffering various disordered eating patterns/living with dysmorphia, having us ‘just jump on the scales’ for a psychology session? HARMFUL.

I am all for paced, incrementally-adjusted and cumulative bodily movement. This was unfortunately, not the case AT ALL in this course. My first 'gym’ session - I had to do ten repetitions of walking up a flight of stairs. I was instructed to do several weight-bearing exercises whilst expressing I had erosion in my wrists, and being ‘encouraged’ to ‘try harder’ when any of us would stop exercising. Despite us going from largely sedentary (for various chronic reasons), to full-on weight training, you’d nEvEr GuEsS wHaT hApPeNeD!?! PAIN. Flares. Defeat. Judgement. Incapacitation. Crippling fatigue. And yet, we were expected to return less than 48 hours later to do it all (and more!) again.

We were scared. We were fearful, and we were suffering. Yet we were talked at (not to), we were pushed (past our bodily limits) and we were frowned upon if we didn’t attend both sessions for the week.

My body didn’t cope. But, I kept going. I had my eldest child in After School Care, on our single wage, because I was hopeful. I met some wonderful women in that group and we all felt incredibly dismissed, gaslit and judged. There was no room or accessibility for the various triggers we walked in there with. Our invisible scars of navigating the often problematic medical system, and continually encountering road blocks, regression and further pain, were too invisible for them to show any kind of tact.

I remember emailing the program head facilitator and expressing how disappointed I was in the forced expectations of exercise and the insensitivity of some of the practitioners, and I was so embarrassed to tell the Exercise Physiologists that I wasn’t COPING. It was too much, too soon, too close together. But, I did it. I had so many feelings of failure, of not being able to meet their expectations and of not being able to attend every session as a result of my own body not coping. This EP was approachable, and adjusted my movement prescription - but it was too late, the damage had been done and the motivation behind the program showed its true colours when I ended up not being able to attend the final session. You see, on commencement of the program, we were asked to walk as far as possible in a six minute period. This would be used as a comparative tool upon completion of the course. I had hung in there, endured, despite the feelings of failure and it wasn’t until I was getting ready to head to my final session, that my mum came over and I burst into tears asking if she could put my pants on for me. I couldn’t dress myself. It was obvious, that I wasn’t well enough to attend. The clincher? The final straw in a poorly run, poorly executed and financially motivated ‘box-ticking’ program? Because I didn’t attend the final session, I couldn’t have any of my progress reports. I couldn’t ‘catch up’ and have my walking timed at a later date. Because ‘my health fund won’t cover it, and the course is over now’. No empathy, no real intention to see if I had progressed during my time - yet another indicator of failure.

There was one OT, though. She felt safe - she held space for each and every one of us, and she genuinely, cared. If there is one thing that I learned from the program, it was her teaching us about our buffer-zone for injury. The way professional athletes can push and push and push and have no pain signal indicating they are close to injury, where those with chronic pain get those signals basically at the commencement of ANY movement, as the body is trying to alert us that we will harm ourselves. She really changed my perception of what my body could do, if I conditioned it - SLOWLY. Gradually. And most importantly - when I was ABLE. In a room of women with disabilities, we were pushed beyond our abilities but at my age, I was able to see the program for what it was - largely a waste of time BUT with one reassurance, that my body can do things, if I tell it it’s safe.

A retired gym-junkie with fitness industry DNA in my bones, my RA had made me scared of movement. After enduring this incredibly harmful, specialist-prescribed ‘pain rehabilitation’ outpatient program, I was determined to PERSIST. I felt I had a duty to persist, as I know several of the women in the rehab program may have sworn off movement even more as a result of the ineffectual course, and I felt I owed it to them to find the magic formula.

This brings me to H.A.I.L. A place I felt vulnerable to walk into, but was instantly made to feel at home. I was seen, I was listened to, my judgement was honoured in regard to my limitations and we literally started, from the ground, up. Crawling. Rolling. Balancing. Stretching. Correcting. Prepping my body to become stable enough to be a foundation for the later strengthening with resistance training.

I went through an assessment, that was so thorough it is hard to believe I wasn’t actually working with a physiotherapist. The owner Hayley performed SUCH a diagnostic assessment that she could basically tell me what injuries I had suffered, where I was tight and my range of movement lacking, and the postural issues caused by my heavy boobs. I was nurtured, welcomed and encouraged from the first step inside H.A.I.L. - and I haven’t looked back since.

Beginning last October, I had been burned by the rehab program that had finished in September and I was hopeful I could still manage to somehow build strength to help me be a better mum, partner, and writer. I wanted MORE. I wanted to be able to have a strong foundation and be even more in tune with my body, which is exactly what has happened.

I have never been in an atmosphere where I could be fully candid - and for my incredible trainer Beth - that looked pretty different every time! Tears. Sobbing. Hysterical laughing. Defeat. Vulnerability. Sensitivity. Hilarity. Happy tears. Hugs. Humour. Swearing. It was all welcomed, and every single time I would walk out, my confidence would go up another percent. My trust in my body? Was growing. I even had a fortuitous encounter with my soon-to-be Jaw Therapist Lorraine from Jaw Freedom - as I was about to undergo my second jaw surgery the week after she walked through H.A.I.L’s doors, and she was on a first-name basis with my Surgeon. Synchronicity led me to so many opportunities and such a wonderfully inclusive community.

I felt so held and safe just by being there twice a week - the intuition both Beth and Hayley show when assessing what’s behind my wavering smile is so very rare. I literally could walk in the door and they can almost instinctively read my body language and offer support, wordlessly, with their mindful care of me. This ‘gym’ is so much more than a gym. It’s a little bit of diet, a little bit of mindset, a hint of woo woo and a bubble of self-care that I look forward too, no matter how I’m feeling. I don’t believe I have EVER had that ‘grrr I don’t wanna go today’ feeling, because I know however I am at that moment in time is fine, and Beth will work with me to reflect how I am, as a ‘work in’, sometimes instead of a workout.

Since October, I have missed a few sessions from either blinding migraines or surgeries but I am ALWAYS rearing to get straight back into it. Because it’s self-care. It’s medicine. It’s healing. It’s uplifting. It’s transformative. It’s phenomenal.

I truly believe I have a world-class support system and now feel holistically supported with my health through a stellar team of PT’s, psychologists, physiotherapists, my jaw physiotherapist, my pain specialist, my rheumatologist, my psychiatrist and my GP. The discovery and implementation of this gold-standard team hasn’t been an easy (or straight) one, I’ve had many a dud specialist or practitioner on my way here.

But I’m home at H.A.I.L. They get it, they get me. They have watched me thrive through stability and foundational building to strength - soon to be changed again to a more challenging program because of my astounding progress.

I have told (and still tell) everyone I know about this dynamic studio, and just count my lucky stars that Nikki from Haus of Bliss’ transformation with pain and strength for showing me it’s possible.

Hayley, I told you I would write you a love letter. Here it is. This is it.

You have all of me - the poop-talking, trucker-mouthed, crying (happy and sad), and STRONG Nik Nik I now am. I can’t wait to keep growing. Thanks for reinforcing the beauty of movement, and reiterating how harmful my experience was in ‘pain rehab’. You’ve changed my life.

Jones + Co's New Self-Care Special: a disability must-have!

In general, most people wash their hair 2-3 times a week, depending on their hair type and lifestyle (hello gym junkies and oily-hair owners). I myself push the relationship with my trusty friend Dry Shampoo, and have become somewhat of a headband/hat collector. Why, I hear you (not) ask? Well, firstly there’s mum-life. Ie, I have a window of about 3.2 minutes dedicated to cleaning my own body amongst a plethora of limbs, tiny bums and sticky hands. If my hair gets a bit wet, that’s a win. It’s like incidental exercise, but for my hair!

Secondly, there’s #disability. Having had rheumatoid arthritis for over 11 years now, tasks like hair-washing, shaving legs and general preening fall to the very bottom of my triaged daily routine. I begin the day with a certain level of energy, a consistent background-noise of fatigue (which often flares to all-consuming) and a level of pain between 2 and 10, seemingly dependent on the weather, the season, what I ate, how many seconds I spent in the sunlight, and whether or not I stood 43 degrees to the West with a sock on my hand, chanting the ABC backwards whilst patting my head. In short - it’s largely unpredictable how I will feel on the daily/hourly/sometimes minute(ly). 

Enter Jones + Co SalonPay Blow-Dry membership to save my life/give me mojo. Known to visit salons, having a $10 basic hair-wash and walking out with sopping wet hair, I longed to be able to go somewhere I felt safe, supported and valued; somewhere I felt amongst friends.

When Kaleena at Jones + Co mentioned her Blow Dry Membership subscription, I instantly thought to myself ‘oh, if only I had a spare $60!’ - Imagine my dismay when I learned that it was less than half this cost. Jaw-dropping, right?! ALSO - by being a subscriber to this fabulous, luxurious self-care non-negotiable (clean hair), I also get to:

• Escape the minions that rule my home

• Hang with the best gals on the peninsula

• Have top-quality salon products lovingly massaged into my hairs

• Get treated to a relaxing neck and shoulder massage on welcome

• Enjoy a still/sparkling water or tea/coffee whilst I get pampered

• Get 5% off all salon services and products too!

• LET US NOT FORGET THE BASIN HEAD MASSAGE. JESUS (or in this instance, Talisha). TAKE. THE. WHEEL.

Though I am unable to shut my trap long enough to actually immerse myself in the aromatherapy and unwind (hello mum of small child + toddler), I promise you I walk (strut) out with a pep in my step and a smile on my face. 

If you are like me, and washing your hair is a deal-breaker, having this subscription service in your pocket is a no-brainer. 

It’s the best weekly money I have EVER spent, packing the most punch and having a long-standing effect on my health, happiness and self confidence.

Wanna be fabulous too? Subscribe here.

Brow Maintenance over Brow Microblading: why I choose upkeep over permanence.

In recent times - and for me, since I discovered Benefit Cosmetics Brow Bar in LA - brows have become a significant component of my makeup and beauty routine. Once I grew out my sperm tails (I was in brow-rehab for significant over-plucking in my youth), and once I stopped double-taking at my reflection in the mirror, I EMBRACED darker, thicker brows.

Since that time (and with the coming and going of trends), we have moved from the boxy, opaque style of saturated fill and colour, to a more natural, less-manicured look - and everything in between!

Enter stage left: microblading. Ideal for those who have brows that resemble distant cousins rather than sisters, are time-poor, aren’t confident to shape and fill their existing brows or have super fine, super fair/sparse brow hairs. Though they may be a significant initial outlay, they may in fact be the cheaper option if we’re playing the long game. 

Having had loads of friends in the industry performing some of the best tattooed/microbladed brows, and having their own brows done; I did my research and investigated the costs and maintenance involved, and the upkeep. 

Suddenly - in the midst of the investigation - we had an extra option added to the mix; Yaaaas I’m talking ‘bout the Brow Lamination. When I first heard of this process, I had images of plastic sleeves and the smell of melted hair, come to mind. After searching the hashtag #browlamination, my eyeballs were treated to the most INCREDIBLE transformations. My second-cousin brows shot up into my grey-streaked hairline at the possibilities at hand. My dodgy-side brow (the one with a Something-About-Mary cowlick) suddenly became the overachiever, leaving the more well-defined, ‘better’ brow (BB) eating dust. My smug cowlick brow OB was eager to see if the underdog BB could match its sheer height.

New to the process, I visited a local salon offering the Brow Lami for an introductory price that I couldn’t pass up. When on the beauty bed, I was told my brows *weren’t the right shape* for a brow lamination. Overacheiver Brow (OB)’s little heart broke, and the black sheep brow once again regained her confidence. Cue me scrolling Instagram again Bridget-Jones style lusting over the sleek, shiny and vertically-blessed brow and longing to be the next member of the #browlami club.

Then the universe intervened.

Being a natural oversharer, I had posted publicly about my journey with Rheumatoid Arthritis, and whether by hashtag, mutual friends or some sorcery magic, I was contacted by none other than my name-twin, Nikki, from Bliss Brows & Tanning at Clontarf.

Nikki reached out to me and as a complete stranger, offered to give me a little gift for a much-needed mood boost. Now instant besties (can we play karate in the garage?), I immediately performed an insta-stalk and discovered that Nikki...offered BROW LAMINATIONS! I tried not to get my OB/BB’s little hopes up, and prepared myself for the second-time heartbreak when I went for my appointment. What I didn’t count on, was that Nikki would become part of my inner circle, my work colleague, client and friend. 

Nikki barely flinched when my pre-filled brows were wiped clean, in all their fair, uneven, naked glory, confident she could transform them and make them the long-lost sister wives they’d always been, deep down.

Outside of the sheer excitement of joining the #browlami club, I was absolutely charmed by Nikki’s energy and warmth, in her little home-salon. I discovered the many services and products she offered far exceeded my expectations of her space. 

I have since been to see Nikki every 4 weeks for a between-lami maintenance appointment, or if I am unable to make the maintenance appointment I am in every 8 weeks for some brow-time. But why do I choose a service that requires time, upkeep, products and consistency, over having them bladed into my skin for the longhaul? 

I’ll tell you why.

Bliss Brows & Tanning. Nikki has transformed what is known to most as a beauty-service upkeep appointment, into a complete ceremony of self, with every single minute invested into your time from the moment you step inside, to the minute you leave (AND they now offer SalonPay/AfterPay). 

Having my brows laminated/maintained has become a necessary, important part of my self-care routine and I long for my appointments as though they are a massage or a brunch date. Aside from the killer brows (which I get compliments for everywhere I go), who are pretty much twins, I am treated to care, attention and company, great music, a yummy treat and drink and a calming, therapeutic relaxation. 

I ENJOY the process. I INDULGE in the gentle pace and sensory experience. I ADORE Nikki and her space. It is an absolute, up-there-with-lip-balm, wish-I-could-keep-her-in-my-pocket, necessity.

What do you do, to invest in you?

Book in to see Nikki here.