This is what happens when you try to do too much….

Today has been a total wipe-out of a day. I’ve found it nigh on impossible to actually get out of bed aside from delayed-until-the-last-minute bathroom runs and the occasional, what the hell is going on trudges….ie. random child yelling or cat screams.

Evidently moving house, attempting to start a major business, attempting to start a minor business, being a single mum and trying to sort out health issues is just all too much.

A trip to the doctor that was so overdue it’s ridiculous has resulted in my needing to get x-rays and blood tests for everything from the possibly munched disc in my back to cholesterol, thyroid issues and haemochromatosis.

With the financial shit I need to sort out piled on top, I just want to hide under the doona and watch movies. There’s too much and I don’t even know which pile to start digging at first. I need help and I don’t have anyone to ask.

These are the times I miss my gran most, I can’t believe it’s only been 6 months since she died. Sometimes I forget – those are the most painful, because it’s like it’s happened all over again.

I also kinda miss the anger and rage, at least they motivated me into action. This complete apathy and feeling of brain-numbness just makes me feel lazy and useless. 6.30pm and I am not even out of my nightie……oh don’t forget to add mothers guilt to that list, as I let miss C have a day off school today so I didn’t have to leave the house…..I wish to god there was someone else who could take her for me on days like this.

I’m not in any way lonely, but damn I could use the support a partner provides…..or family that lives close by…..or even friends who lived nearby and actually have a car.

Well typing this post has now used up valuable energy. Must source some food for miss C and get her to bed, even such a simple task seems insurmountable today.


You never know…..

Don’t wait.

Don’t wait to tell someone you love them.

If there’s a person in your life that you care about, tell them. You never know what’s around the corner.

You never know what will happen tomorrow, tomorrow may not come.

Never let your fear of rejection be stronger than your fear of regret.

Don’t let something that could be beautiful slip away because you have been hurt or are afraid.

Enjoy every moment you have, every moment you waste angry or unhappy is a moment you will never have again.

Plan for tomorrow, but never let those plans stop you from enjoying today – tomorrow may not come.

Once upon a time……

in a land not too far away, a girl had a rough week.

The one who hates her had been up to his usual shenanigans and was trying to keep hurting her in any way he could. She had worked many long hours, trying to fill 2 persons shoes both at work and at home.

Someone she once considered a friend made an appalling phone call, which made her sad and angry.

She had been looking forward to this night for what seemed like forever…..thinking of his face and daring to hope he could be hers.

She’s a foolish girl.
He is too good for her. The good ones are not for her.

She should have left with the one who would hurt her, those are the ones for her. She should know this by now.

She dared to hope.
What a nerve she had.

She had been dreaming the impossible dream. She spent the night with him, wondering what the early hours would bring.

The one who would hurt her wanted her. He wanted her to go with him.
She should have gone.
She knows that hurt, that is the hurt she has felt before. That is the hurt she deserves and wears like a favourite jacket.
What a foolish girl, she dared to hope.

Many hours she spent in his arms, many hours they talked, she felt so safe, her heart was warm and full. She didn’t want this night to end.

She should have known this was not for her. Stupid girl.

He has been gone for some time now, she can still feel him on her skin and smell him in her bed. Her heart is no longer full nor warm, she doesn’t feel safe, but she doesn’t want to stop feeling or smelling him either.

She is still being punished for her mistakes. Will she never learn.
The good ones are not for her.
And this is where we leave her, alone, wanting to die inside so she can feel nothingness instead of the bright light of pain.

Scarlet on Ivory….the sweetest contrast

Smile, be happy, don’t let them know.

Push the pain deeper, into your soul.

They like you when you’re happy. They don’t like to worry. You’re only fun when you’re dying inside, not visible for the world to see.

Be a good friend, be a good mother. You haven’t the right to complain. Your life isn’t so hard, many have it worse.

Your pain means nothing. Don’t overestimate your own importance. Don’t be a drama queen.


Just smile, be happy.

This was a facebook post….

But it really doesn’t belong there.

I’m not sure if anyone will ever read this.
Partly because I don’t know if I’m actually ready to share the whole story with anyone, and partly because I doubt anyone is really interested enough to read the entire thing.
I’ve been overly dramatic lately, and I’ve leant hard on my friends, and I feel that I owe an explanation as to why.
Many of you know parts of my story, there are parts I’m reasonably comfortable sharing, but there are few who know all details, in fact, I don’t actually know if there’s any single person I’ve confided everything in…..
Trust is something I, like most people, have difficulty giving freely, and yet complete honesty is a code I live my life by.
In the spirit of such honesty, I shall type out my story here, and if I choose to share it, and you choose to read it, I hope you can do so without harsh judgement. I’ve made mistakes in my life and at this point, we’re all aware that I’m leaning towards the dramatic and I know this will come through in my writing.
So here goes….

I won’t go into my childhood, that’s still something I’m not prepared to share, let’s start things back in the early years of the new millennium.

I’d been clubbing for a while, and had kept fairly well to the shadows, many knew me as the friend of A (going to keep some names out of this, that those of you who know me from back then will recognise, and those of you that are new to my life won’t find important), but mostly I kept myself to myself, drank a lot and danced like a silly girl.
After a few unpleasant house-sharing environments I had moved into a place with some good friends, at times closer than others.
I had just returned from living in Sydney for 2 years with a guy I was deeply in love with. Things had gotten financially bad, and his father had just been diagnosed with an in-operable brain tumour. This was the first person close to me who was going to die.
I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I fled.
Never in my life have I done something I’ve been so ashamed of as that. I should have stayed, I should have been there to help my partner deal with the loss of a parent he loved. I still haven’t forgiven myself for my actions.
I wish he had asked me to stay, I would have.
Trying to deal with the person I had become, I spent increasing amounts of time socialising, clubbing, drinking and eventually found myself into the arms of amphetamines.
Never having had any self-confidence, drugs and alcohol were always a good way to forget how much I disliked myself and actually allow others to enjoy my company.
Within a few months of living this lifestyle, the low periods lasted longer and were always deeper. I know feel that I was punishing myself for my actions leaving Sydney and was involved in an emotionally abusive relationship as well. This person taught me the joy of self-harm and how quickly you could release the emotional pain inside, with a quick slice across the thigh.
Eventually a friend who had recently been diagnosed with depression sat me down and had a good talk with me. He gave me a few samples of an anti-depressant his doctor had given him and after a few days, convinced me to go to a doctor and get a script of my own.
I essentially told the doctor that this is what I want, he asked a few minimal questions and wrote the script.
It would seem that the speed had stopped my brain from producing serotonin of its own, and I now needed it provided to me daily.
So for the next year or so, I wavered between doctors and prescriptions. I left my job and moved in with my estranged father.
He didn’t believe in depression, but he wanted to help me. He paid off some of my debts and when I suggested to him that I wanted to go to China for a year to teach english, he agreed that it was a good idea and was prepared to help me.
Plans for China slowly moved ahead, but in the meanwhile, I managed to fall in love with a man I’d never met. Many would scoff at this point, but I also know many are smiling knowingly.
We could finish each others sentences and thoughts without ever having met face to face. I truly felt I had found my soulmate. And let me tell you, never having believed in such a think, it was quite a shock.
B came to Brisbane to meet me, and the feelings simply intensified. Being spontaneous by nature, it was no surprise to me that I immediately wanted to move to Melbourne to pursue this relationship further. China was off and Melbourne was on. My father didn’t like this idea at all, which hurt me deeply, having had much time to think on it, I was mentally in no state to be moving overseas. I didn’t speak a word of Mandarin, Cantonese or otherwise, and I was still learning how to deal with my depression, what was I meant to do over there if I had a breakdown and couldn’t even communicate with a doctor?
Melbourne was far less scary of course, being close enough to get home if things didn’t go well and having my new love to support me through the mental changes.
Little did I know, but I actually fell pregnant to B before he left Brisbane, let alone me leaving myself. I was taking the pill and had just completed that lovely girly time of month.
Shortly before leaving for Melbourne, I had a depo-provera contraceptive injection. A urine pregnancy test is standard with the first one of these, and was negative (was only 2 weeks along).
My time in Melbourne was short. I was only there for about 5 months, during which time I had another depo injection – for those of you unaware, both of these should have aborted the child I didn’t know was growing in me.
It turned out my prince had many problems of his own to deal with, and with my increasingly unstable mind, I wasn’t able to support him through these, and he wasn’t able to support me either.
I thought I was having a mental breakdown and again decided to turn tail and head home.
Shortly after arriving back in Brisbane, I fell back into contact with a male friend who I’d previously had a sexual relationship with. We became close, spending several nights a week together and bonding over our recently painful breakups.
I decided to finally start uni and got accepted into an arts degree.
The day after my uni orientation I had an ultrasound that revealed, I didn’t have a massive pelvic tumour, but was pregnant.
That quickly put an end to the uni degree. Knowing that the child was B’s, I spoke quite frankly to A and gave him the option to step back and resume a friendship whilst I raised the child alone.
He chose to stand by me, raise the child as his, but never exclude B from its life.
Many would see this as an honourable thing to do, and I would still like to hope that’s what it was.
The next 5 years passed slowly. It took me a long time to adjust to the new direction my life was heading as I had been focussed on a very different path.
Thankfully I found a good doctor, my medication settled, post-natal depression was expected and my meds adjusted accordingly.
A and I raised my beautiful daughter, many who didn’t know often exclaiming how much she looked like her daddy, which she does, both of them.
A became increasingly emotionally and mentally abusive towards me over the years and my self-esteem plummeted once again.
I was not going out, rarely socialising with friends, trying to care fulltime for a child, keep house and work to pay my fair share.
A and I separated, but stayed living together for 18 months, trying to keep things as normal as possible for Miss C.
As the arguments became more frequent, I often sought to escape. One night A decided he’d had enough of me running from the fights and blocked my doorway, refusing to move. My flight instinct is strong and I pushed him to get past. This resulted in a scuffle that left me on the floor and screaming.
I fled the house for a few hours to a friend’s place who calmed me down eventually enough to get out of me what had happened.
The next morning I packed a few bags, took Miss C and ran to my mums.
Since then, there has been rumour after rumour regarding the circumstances of this “breakup” and people I once cared for and trusted have turned on me.
This I can handle.
What has been harder to take has been A’s complete unwillingness to have anything to do with his daughter. I have tried to organise repeatedly some access arrangements, one night when I had arranged for him to have her for the night he actually tried to text me last minute to get out of it, to ruin my plans. If that had been the only result, I wouldn’t have cared, but she wanted to see him and how do you explain to a 6-year-old that she’s being used as a pawn?
In the past few months I’ve moved into an apartment of my own, with Miss C.
This is the closest I’ve ever been to living alone, and whilst at first I was quite terrified nightly, I have come to enjoy the solitude for the most part.
There has been a constant barrage of abuse, directly and indirectly from A.
There has been more than 1 boy playing games with my head.
The depression is kicking me hard.
I’m constantly afraid of relying too heavily on alcohol.
Finances are a dire mess in need of serious sorting.
Adjusting to single parenting is tiring.
The only time in the week that I get to forget all of this mess, is when I am out, drinking and dancing and even that is a weekly fight to find someone I trust to care for my daughter.
I am now trying to clean up some of the messes I have made, my bed is messy and I don’t want to lie in it this way.
I can’t make apologies for all of my actions, but I hope this goes a little way toward explaining them. There are many other parts of my story that are not here. Some I still can’t share, some I have blocked because they are too painful. Some I possibly have forgotten due to too much alcohol between then and now.

I know some of the ones who deserve this explanation will never get it, they can’t read it here and I lost the chance to tell them myself.

If you have read this far……I’m not sure whether to congratulate you on your persistence, question your sanity, or wonder why you care at all…….

And now, I have no energy left at all to make the decision whether to post this or not, so on instinct I shall and when I wake I will deal with the consequences, possibly the worst of which would be that no one bothered to read it at all.

Is a broken spirit more socially acceptable than a black eye?

If a woman walked into a party/club/friends house etc. with a black eye and unwillingly admitted when pushed it was her partner that did it, what response do you this would get? I’m sure you’ll agree there would be at the very least outrage, more than likely potential physical retribution towards said “man”.

Yet if a woman’s spirit is completely crushed, her entire sense of self destroyed….somehow that’s socially acceptable.

Are people completely happy to ignore something unless it is immediately visible?

Is it easier to not think about the amount of pain someone is in, if it’s not physical pain?

In a similar vein, is it more acceptable when a person with asthma can’t go to work because their asthma is playing up, than say, someone with acute depression not being able to do their job because they simply cannot get out of bed. The very idea of facing even showering and dressing is too much to contemplate?

Why are people so willing to be ignorant? Are most people simply that self-absorbed that unless physically confronted with someone else’s problems they are happy to pretend they don’t exist?

If the amount of mental and emotional trauma my ex inflicted upon me were physically manifested, I have little doubt there would be a line around the block to “sort him out”.

I’m confused and hurt that the pain I still feel whenever I have to see his face is something so hidden that no one even notices.

Fix your own backyard first

Jesus christ almighty. I’ve just come across yet another group/foundation whatever they want to call themselves set up to help underprivileged people from other countries.
Well shit, that’s great, but what about the underprivileged people right here at home.
If more people took care of the problems right here in our own backyard, then we would have a much stronger country and would then be able to assist the other less fortunate countries a great deal more.
It frustrates me no end that there are so many charities and foundations set up to send money to other countries when there are people starving right around the corner from the headquarters of these very charities.
Why not do something to help the homeless here in Australia? Why not take care of the children who can’t attend school? Why not set up some nonreligious support groups and counselling for the “poor”?
Having hit some very rough times myself recently, I know just how fucking difficult it is to get access to any form of help – particularly if you don’t want to approach religious services. Even trying to get a food parcel is an exercise in humiliation, frustration and patience.
Take care of your home first people, it’s really not that difficult!

A ranting space

Finally, a place to let out my anger and frustration with humans in specific and in general.
Stupid Facebook, absolutely useless for random venting. People take it all too seriously.