I Did It!: 16 Mindset Secrets To Transform The Life You Have Into The Ultimate life You Deserve

Introduction

I did it, Mummy! Alexia exclaimed. My three-year-old daughter was playing with her puzzle box and had managed to open the wooden lid with a slide mechanism, all by herself. I watched her as she went from a state of very serious, focused and frowning concentration to a state of complete joy and elation in a matter of moments.

After praising her for her amazing achievement, I thought to myself – as adults we don’t do that for ourselves enough. Firstly, the praising part – we don’t do this for the fear of looking silly, so we settle to downplay everything we achieve and play it safe in our community.

Secondly, the announcing of it! It’s only a simple declaration of achievement – yet sharing it with others can feel so wrong …

We, as individuals, parents, grandparents, business owners, employees, etc., do not praise ourselves enough for all of our magnificent achievements – even for the most simple and basic steps forward. And more often than not, because of the fear of judgement, we are all petrified to proclaim: I Did It!

Personally, I’m sick of this! I want this idea to leave the shadows once and for all and finally step into the light, and be seen in all its glory.

Because, you know what? No matter what you do or achieve in this world, no matter how big or how small your challenges may be, someone else in this world is petrified about taking exactly that same step as you. And they desperately need your help.

So, what if you could share? What if you could tell them and spread the message of your achievements or challenge over-comings to the world for the people that needed to hear it?

This is what myself and my amazing collaborators have hoped to achieve by sharing our stories with you in this book.

"Taking the first step takes Courage …

Taking the second step takes Conviction …

Taking the third step takes Determination …

All steps after this take pure Passion …"

– Kleo Merrick

In this book I’m privileged to be joined by:

Sophia Rigas, Petros Galanoulis, Trilby Johnson, Scott Lawrence, Kerry Cleopatra, Teressa Todd, Suzanne Duncan, Martin Probst, Sally Holden, Terri Tonkin, Maylin Lim, Carol Davies, Cheryl Strickland, Joslyn Gardiner and Kitiboni Rolle Adderley.

We, as a collective, are excited to share our personal journeys with you. In the hope that reading ours will help you grow, learn, develop, challenge and most importantly overcome your own battles.

To be able to stand tall and declare to the world – I Did It!

With love and gratitude,

Kleo Merrick xxx

Leading Well From Within

by Suzanne Duncan

Author, Mindset and Behavioural Coach, Australia

Any journey of transformation begins with leading well from within.

– Suzanne Duncan

I’m an identical twin. My father is one, too! My twin sister and I grew up together in Canberra, Kalgoorlie, then Melbourne in Australia. My father is a geologist and met my mother when she was working at the same university. She came to Australia from Ireland via England at the age of nineteen with her suitcase, knowing no one. Hard to even contemplate doing that these days!

Our family moved around as was required of Dad’s job. My sister and I attended different schools with each move, which meant that we were each other’s best friend. Friends came and went.

So, we were constantly adjusting and adapting. Being introverts sometimes made it challenging.

Perhaps the fact that we were always moving gave me the ability to accept and manage change later. We certainly relied on and were there for each other. Being able to share and talk about how I was feeling and let things out was such a gift. I will always be grateful for my sister who gets me on the deepest level.

Family life growing up was about socialising with my parents’ friends and getting to know the children of those friends. Dad’s company had regular Christmas gatherings, and everyone kept in touch, even when people moved interstate.

One such family, ended up being my in-laws! And it all happened when they returned to Melbourne and visited us with their son James.

I was in my late twenties and had been in a long-term relationship that ended. James was looking for a new flat mate. So, I moved in. There was a spark right from the beginning, which grew as the months went on, and we eventually became lifelong partners … or that’s what I thought we’d be when I said, I do.

Our early years were full of adventure, interstate travel every Christmas to visit family, an overseas trip to join James in Bangkok when he was there for work, and keeping fit while enjoying an inner-city lifestyle.

Our first child was born in 2001, followed by two more in 2003 and 2005. We moved to an outer suburb and started getting to know other families in the area.

We dreamed of a long and fulfilling life together. How life can change …

James was a general manager and travelled extensively all over the world. His work colleagues and friends adored him. He was such a competent, thoughtful, warm and friendly man.

I was a stay-at-home mum looking after our precious children. It felt lonely at times and I had postnatal depression after our first child was born as motherhood changed everything. Gone were the days of working in medical research and the medical diagnostics industry. I was home twenty-four seven. My identity and my routine, or total lack of it, disappeared and it took time and tears to adjust.

It was challenging! I wasn’t getting much sleep and running on empty, but we got through somehow. Our children were our focus and we had each other.

When our youngest was three years old, James was diagnosed with terminal bowel cancer. I remember sitting on our bed and he fell to the ground, weighed down by his prognosis. He sobbed and sobbed and was so upset with himself for overlooking his health and the impact it was now going to have on everything. He kept repeating to me that he felt like such an idiot. All I could do was to comfort and cry with him.

Unfortunately, his job and our family had been his focus. He’d neglected his health and was about to heartbreakingly pay the price.

I cared for him for two and a half years, existing in a fog of disbelief. When such an immense shock hit, it took us time to accept. My children and how they were coping took my attention, and James and his well-being was always my priority.

I wanted someone to come and rescue us. To make it all better. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with James. It was like we were moving towards a chasm and there was nothing we could do. It was getting closer and closer and we were all going to tumble over.

In the early days, he continued to work, and we were hopeful of remission. We kept busy, and while it was harrowing, it also brought us even closer together.

Relentlessly, the cancer progressed, and James turned his energy to setting his affairs in order and organising his memorial service. He chose the music, invited friends to give speeches and wanted to display a self-portrait painted by his mother.

During chemotherapy, he painstakingly wrote a journal of his life story for our children to read when they were older. He wanted them to know their Dad. To read in his own words about his life and who he was.

Here is an extract:

Today I kissed you all goodbye and headed off on a trip to Thailand. I’ve finally bought this book and began to put down my thoughts for you to read if you are feeling sad or you just miss me. I want to tell you stories about myself and Mum and remind you of the great times we had together. I want to tell you all the things that I wanted to tell you as you get older, but I won’t have the chance to say. Most of all I want you to know that you had a Dad who loved you deeply. As I started to write these thoughts Lachie is 8, Bella is 6 and Jess is almost 4. You are Mummy and my little treasures, and we talk every day about how lucky we have been as parents. I will eventually write to you about my illness. For now, I want to start by telling who your Dad is. So, let’s start …

We watched him slowly decline and deal with unbearable pain. I remember after a bowel operation, we were travelling home, and he was in excruciating pain. At a railway crossing, he leapt out of the car and screamed and screamed. He was in so much pain. I was horrified to see him so debilitated. We drove home as he writhed in agony.

During the last six months, James wanted to be cared for at home. A palliative care nurse was assigned and visited regularly. She also offered advice to me as his primary caregiver.

On his last weekend, he came to watch our son play soccer. He sat with his parents, who had arrived from interstate several weeks earlier. James was gaunt and skeletal. He’d vomited up brown fluid earlier in the day. A doctor friend said, He hasn’t got much longer now.

Later that day, we sat on the bed. He held my hand and said, Just keep on smiling, you’ll be ok. My mum remembers our youngest daughter lying on the bed beside him, while he stroked her hands and chatted. His facial expression conveyed so much sorrow and regret that he wasn’t going to live to see her grow.

Some friends visited. James wondered what to say to them. He was starting to lose oxygen to his brain. During the last two nights, he would cry out in his slept saying, No, no. I couldn’t sleep, helpless and unable to ease his suffering.

On his last night, his mum slept on a mattress near his bed. At about five in the morning, we called his dad, saying that he needed to be here. We were in the kitchen when his dad arrived. His mum went to check on James. We heard an anguished cry as she ran back to us, crying, Suze, Suze, he’s gone. She was understandably inconsolable. James died at six-thirty on a Monday morning in June 2011.

Our children, who were four, seven and nine years old, were asleep. We woke them and told them that Daddy had died and our friends were going to look after them until a bit later.

The palliative care nurse came and asked me to help prepare James’ body for the undertakers. Brown fluid had gushed out of his mouth and was trickling over the bed. We cut off his pyjamas, moved him away from the soiled bedding and put everything in bags.

We cleaned and dressed him in the clothes he’d chosen to be cremated in, his body now ready for removal. To look at, touch and move a dead body that used to be my beloved husband and see him carried out in a body bag – it was harrowing.

Later that morning, our children came home. My youngest daughter asked my mum, Where is Daddy? and she was told that some people were taking care of him. She asked, Can we ring him? but was told, No, that wasn’t possible.

James was forty-four years old. I shattered into a million pieces.

James had been my rock, and I had been his. Now there was a vast emptiness. I was living on autopilot. Getting up, looking after my children, going to work, coming home, going to bed. Repeat. Day after day while coping with grief and no family support in Melbourne. I made the decision to stay in Melbourne for my children to have stability in their lives. We knew people here and I thought that would help.

Five years later a friend gave me a ticket to Date with Destiny, a Tony Robbins event. I had no idea what to expect. It was an amazing experience, and during a healing meditation I released my grief. I was deeply immersed. The deeper I went, the lighter I felt. I was happy, even though tears streamed down my face. Images of James floated around my mind. Filled with love that he had been in our lives, that we had three beautiful children together and we’d had those years creating a life together; I felt overwhelming gratitude and joy. Those years with him were precious, and they shine on.

That’s not to say that I don’t feel sad when special anniversaries come up or when my teens reach their milestones. There will always be residual sadness no matter how much I move on from the past.

What I still faced, though, was the solo journey and finding the strength to keep on keeping on.

I had to find myself again. Grief had defined me for five years and my focus was my children and meeting their needs. I barely focused on what I needed and pursued things without much thought. They were simply things to do or buy.

I wasted a lot of time and money chasing them. Hoping they would bring meaning and fulfilment to my life. However, all the material stuff I feathered my nest with is just stuff.

How lost and aimless I unconsciously was. I was placing so much emphasis on external things to prop me up. To make