It’s been a long day today. In fact it’s been a long week, month and year. It seems to be going so fast but also so slow if that makes any sense.
I have been battling what seems to be a bit of school avoidance with my soon to be 15 year old. Who would have thought?
I deal with other people’s children and this issue all the time. Never did I think it would be mine. I sit across the table from worried and tired parents who have tried everything, but they cannot get their child to school. After all it is more common than you think.
It starts slow, a day here and there. You try and be the understanding parent when they are exhausted, anxious and assessments are building up. One day becomes two, two become three and soon enough it’s a daily battle.
I’ve watched this slowly unfold in my house.
Why does it happen? I can think of a few things….
It’s Thursday, day 4, week 2. The first week of actual classes after a full on activities week. They are already exhausted after the year it has been and it is just compounding.
Yesterday it was her tummy….. it was sore.. she can’t poop…. so being mum I say; ‘harden up’, drink some cranberry juice, eat some pears and get on with it. Little did I know kids have a fear of pooing while at school? I mean when you got to go, you got to go. It’s natural.
Anyway we conceded in her coming in at morning tea. I was not happy but just did not have the energy for the fight. This was my first mistake.
Today, again… my tummy is sore… round and round we go. Two pears, prune juice this time, vitamin C and more. I mean how is her poo still not coming out??
Again, I don’t have the energy to fight or argue. I say come in at morning tea. She debates this. However, she comes in and has a lunch meeting. Then comes to me to ‘sign out’. If you haven’t guessed she attends the school I work at. I stand my ground and say no. You can last the rest of the day.
It’s not even 40 minutes later and I am texting my mother saying how she is at school and it’s a small win… only to find out the almost 15 year old is in the toilet also texting mum, or nana. In tears.
Off I set, in a huff, prepared for whatever is to come. Three toilet blocks later I find her. There is nothing like listening to the tears on the other side of a door when your angry and helpless. What’s going on after all? Is it her stomach? Is it now something bigger?
I sternly but lovingly coax her out. She hugs me…. now for those of you who know us, that’s a rare thing. She used to love hugs and cuddles but that changed a few years back.
It took me by surprise and I felt some of the anger slowly melt away. I did however stand my ground. She was either to go to the nurse or go to maths. Just like any other student. Home was not an option… tough love is hard sometimes.
Needless to say the bell rang, she’s home and it’s like nothing happened???
Tomorrow’s a new battle it seems!
I was speaking to my mum, who asked; ‘did you ever wag school?’ I thought about it for a while and I said ‘no’.
I was allowed home to do French by distance education but I never wagged.
Why? I thought.
Maybe it was because we had no choice. We feared getting in trouble from our parents, we feared being grounded.
Why has that changed? It seems that fear had disappeared along with manners and respect.
Maybe it was because that’s how I saw my friends. We never had Face time, snap chat, NBN or our own laptops. It was a Nokia something or other which had the best version of the game ‘snake’ on it and that was it. To send a text and get the letter ‘C’ you had to push the number one three times…… what an effort! It was easier to ring and have a conversation. Or to see them at school and make the most of it.
There was no discord, no teams or zoom. No instagram or games where you all log on and play at the same time. Our internet would never have coped.
For us, it was one desktop computer in the study. Never in our rooms. You had a time limit and if you did not do what you had to do, tough luck.
Homework was reading books, turning the pages, using the index, looking up words in a glossary and writing with a pen.
How it has changed. I am not opposed to the change but I do wish they had a chance to unplug. There is no need to use it everyday, all day for all their learning.
However, what can one do when that’s what the world is doing. It’s what they know, it’s how they learn. It’s so different.
They have no need to go to school, it’s all online after all. They can literally teach themselves if they wished, online.
So where to from here? Who knows?
All I know is I will continue to laugh, cook and be present for her as much as she needs. Tomorrow’s battle is tomorrow’s battle.
Have you ever had that knotted ball of fishing wire you just look at and cannot even imagine where to start to begin untangling it?
Have you ever had a knot in a necklace which doesn’t seem to ever want to come out despite how much you work on it? String? thread? knitting?
So many things! So many knots!
This is what I think someone who is suffering from a mental illness feels. Their mind is a ball of knots. No start, no end and certainly not an easy fix.
Mental health is such a hot topic at the moment. It has been, and will continue to be.
However, it is now at the forefront of our minds more, now than ever.
What a year!
Watching those you love and those you know, try and unravel their own ‘knots’ is harder than you might think.
The moments of confusion, complete misunderstanding… it’s hurtful, actually heartbreaking.
The moments of distrust which have stemmed from a knot, not from the love, the memories or the special moments but from a seed planted by the mind. A misinterpretation which one did not understand.
A knot forms and it grows.
The moments of paranoia, where you think everyone is watching, everyone is thinking something less or more of you than they actually are.
The moments of just loss and confusion???
Those moments speak the truth of mental illness.
Where you watch someone, so lost, so confused start to let the knots take over.
You can say and do all you can. You can try bring back the good time’s, the great time’s and even some of the hard times. You can recount all the important moments, the funny moments and the moments you overcame the challenges… it may not be enough. Remember, it’s all in knots!
But… if the knots are tied to tight there may be no way out. We cannot see it, we cannot feel it. Only they can. We try all we can to ease the knots, untangle them or even show a way to ease them off.
We cannot untangle the knots of someone else. No matter how hard we try.
If we do see some small window of success ….. we can hope it’s enough, a small amount of give can unravel any knot.
Once a knot is unravelled, or has begun to be unravelled, it will be kinked, it may even become knotted again, but, as it was when we first started we have to start slow. One small knot at a time.
Just remember with mental illness those knots may just be so tight we can try and try and try and try again, and to us personally we may feel we are getting somewhere. But for the person suffering we may be doing nothing but adding to the confusion.
They hide it well. That’s the hardest part!
The kinks of an unravelled knot remain. They are the reminders of what you/we/I have survived. What you/we/I have managed to separate and untangle from the mix.
Putting my own knotted wire aside to help unravel my own child’s and others is a challenge. How does one set aside the knots we have ourselves to try and help others?
I pause here and imagine the airline safety videos – put your oxygen mask on before you attend to your child or others.
Is this realistic?
I am the cause of half her knots, I know it, she knows it and many others know it. Parenting is bloody hard! You never know what’s right or wrong. You’re pushing to hard, you’re not pushing enough.. you are not disciplining enough, or it is to much!
Who knows! In this day and age you cannot even smack a child without repercussions!
I was smacked and boy did I know when I was wrong. I am so much better off now because of it.
However as you crawl into bed, despite trying to help others, including those most dear to you, unravel those knots, you realise yours are still there. Still a twisted mess, a knotted unrealistic mess and at some point dismissing it, is in some way pushing it to one side. This won’t suffice, and you may find yourself, just like those you loved and lost.
One day I/we/ you will have to begin to unravel your own knots. If you don’t, it can lead to unhappiness, loss and immeasurable suffering for those around you.
Take it slow, ask for help. Stop. Breathe, and start again.
Eventually the knots do come out. Whether it be on your own or with help. Who cares!
I can say this, and write this but I have yet to start to unravel my own knots. I can tell you I am one twisted mess and it’s going to take time.
However, over a few months, I believe I have managed to work on one of my knots. That knot for me, while not completely unravelled is titled ‘acceptance’. There are some things in life, no matter how hard, no matter how deeply they affect you, no matter how much you feel alone and left behind… you can unravel. It just takes time, support from others and patience. It’s not quite unravelled and I still get into a knotted mess, but there are those that when I walk in the room or arrive help me feel like; ‘you can do this’ one second at a time.
The kinks you say… they are just reminders of what you overcame.
Think about it….
Take the time, enjoy the moments of sadness, reflection and happiness. Because when all is said and done, that all we have.
For those of you who know me there has not been a year where I haven’t spent many a weekend or a holiday travelling.
This may be with school groups/students or even personally.
What a year it has been. Not only has losing someone changed all that but add in COVID, and the ‘normalcy’ turned to shit.
I promise to not refer to COVID again! We all hear way too much these days and it has been all consuming for way to long.
Instead I am going to take you on a journey, the first this year. One of healing, time out, adventure and really, to put it bluntly, a necessary one.
It was time to take a break. To try and relax and take some time to ‘take stock’, ‘reflect’, ‘laugh’ and be somewhat normal.
Here we go!
The borders were due to open and we had a week free. So before the outback was booked up by all the travellers we planned our escape.
Day one – Saturday saw us take just a short trip to the Sunshine Coast where we began our weeks journey at Chateau Haines. The food was fresh, the beds amazing and the company even better (it was with my parents). What a way to start 💐
Day two – Sunday.
The driving started! We were up before the sun had risen. An eskie and picnic packed by my fabulous mother! Coffees made and a roadie croissant breakfast. The aim was to get to Blackwater. Approximately 8 hours away. Easy I said!!
It was great, along the way my co-pilot kept me going with trivia, reading the news, readers digest articles and more!
We passed the big orange and all sorts! There really are some ‘big things’ in the Australian outback!
The big orange, the big banana, the big elephant, the big spanner.. and more. However, I digress.. (what a word!)
We did make a slight detour to visit a friends old stomping ground. We even managed to take a photo outside the house she grew up in! That was a ‘tick’ on the achievement list!
Blackwater….. I’m not sure what to say but …. it is a small town. Not a lot was happening and the Japanese gardens they advertise were great to see through the fence. With not a lot open and the coal trains km’s long passing by we settled into our accomodation.
We did visit the second largest show of flags in the world – when compared to the flags in New York. Each flag represented the nationality of the miners/workers. That is pretty interesting! Brings to the forefront of the mind how multi cultural we are!
Dinner….. to be honest this set the trip up… red rooster was the only real option! I mean it could only get better! With time to relax and read, the TV on, I settled into my sofa bed and slept like a log! Nothing was open! Including the motels bar and restaurant.
Stomp, stomp, stomp!!! It’s 5;30 am, I believe and the shift workers were up and walking down the steps which backed onto our little ‘donga’. They were up and laughing, their work trucks beeping as they reverse!! Okay it’s time to rise!
I do not remember what breakfast was that day!! We packed up the gear and the car and we set off… Longreach here we come!
Actually now I do! We stopped in Emerald at a great cafe called Vybe. We only drove past the hospital three times trying to find it. I did comment on the fact if we went past the hospital again they might get suspicious! However, breakfast was delicious and the bucket of coffee even better!
There is a lot to see in Emerald. With our time limits though we narrowed it down to two things. Two amazing things.
First the walk through the mosaic tiles showing the past, present and future of the times! This was brilliant. Reading the plaques and ‘walking the story’.
Of course, the second thing we wanted to see was the largest Van Gogh sunflower painting on an easel in the world. I mean why wouldn’t you!! It was pretty cool!
So, goodbye Emerald, here we come Longreach. With a full belly and some sights under our belts we continued on our way to Longreach.
The next stop was Rubyvale and Sapphire. The place to fossick for the real thing! We topped up our coffees at a local shop and experienced the budget cuts it seems in the building of the public toilets!
Back on the road! With a short stop in Jericho, which backs onto Jordan creek. How biblical!
They may not have had any stores open but they were taking care of the open air drive in theatre, old style!
Okay Longreach here we come!! The destination and one of the main reasons we set off to experience the outback!!!
Longreach is amazing!! We managed to sneak into the luminescent light show at the Qantas museum! This was brilliant! Not to be missed! I cannot show you any photos nor describe how brilliant it was! You will have to go and see this for yourselves!
Longreach has so much to offer! The Stockmans hall of fame, the Qantas Founders museum and just what is around town. The town centre is a hustle and bustle of life. The Merino bakery a place to visit. Casey’s has great coffee to kickstart the day! So much to see including amazing sunrises and sunsets!
Oh and they have a courtesy bus to the birdcage hotel. The local pub which provides decent pub meals and a great atmosphere!
Longreach was an amazing place to visit. So much history, so much to read! Along with my new akubra we set off to Winton!
Winton – a place with so much history! It is known for the one place in the world where a dinosaur stampede has been recorded. In fossil form!
Banjos, our wonderful, amazing and most certainly memorable accomodation had a lot to offer. The one ply toilet paper, the brown towels, which disguised the stains, and the brilliant maroon shower curtain which stuck to you if you tried to turn around in the shower!
Eeeeiiikkkkk that was a surprise and one I hope not to relive! The darn shower curtain!
I mean for me it’s just a bed. However, it will be a fun memory. Good old Banjos!! It’s for sale everyone, just in case you wanted a slice of dirt and dust in outback Queensland.
It was time to explore the town and the sights. This included the Winton club, where the first Qantas meeting occurred. Next to this is Arnos wall. A wall made up of all sorts of ‘stuff’ collected from the dump and inserted into the wall. Not only are there those amazing places but there is also the musical fence. A place where you can pick up a stick or a tube or even a metal pole and create sound on the pieces of metal, tubing and more that have been placed in all the right places.
So while in Winton one cannot miss the dinosaur stampede! We booked a 3/4 day tour with Vicki from red dirt tours and boy what a day!
She was exceptional and took us on a day to remember. Off track with morning tea on a ‘jump up’ and lunch outside the stampede. We learnt so much from her and she was so amazing to travel with!
Here are a few photos to help!
The main area… the stampede!! So here goes! The history behind it is amazing! So many people were involved, it lay undisturbed for so long after it’s discovery! It is quite a place to visit!
Winton was amazing. As the QLD borders had opened we did not get a chance to get in to see the Age of the dinosaurs which is a place which has the bones of dinosaurs, workshops and more! Next time!
Leaving Winton we headed off to Tambo. On the way we stopped at Ilfracombe and also Barcaldine, where the tree of knowledge is.
Again so much history, so much has happened in our own back yard! Who would have thought!
Tambo. We arrived. What a tiny but spectacularly tidy and beautiful town. The people so friendly, bar the lady at reception, the pub with such a nice atmosphere and more.
Sitting outside facing the pool, the birds buzzing around, the sun setting and the breeze picking up, one could not enjoy the downtime. We even popped into Tambo teddies. A ‘must’ visit for those passing through.
From Tambo we headed off to St. George. Our next stop. We passed through Mitchell and much more. The landscape, the tall grasses yellow and green, the mulgas and of course the kangaroos and cows!
St.George has a lot to offer and with more time we would have explored. However, we did the most important thing. A wine tasting and of course this was accompanied with a ploughmans platter. The cool breeze and a Merlot from the winery’s grapes could not have been a better way to enjoy the cool crisp breeze.
So the journey and outback adventure was coming to an end. We had seen to much and been so many places. So much history in our own back yards.
It was time to not necessarily relax, as the alarm was always set for 7am, but there was time to read, time to talk, time to learn and more.
So off we set, homeward bound. A long day ahead and a slight detour!
The painted silos something I had seen along the way. So while on the toilet I googled the nearest one to Yeralbon, a place we were passing through.
What a sight and what a story!
To sum it all up.. as words and photos just do not do it justice, taking the time to, ‘take the time’ was just what the soul needed. The brain and the heart often rule our lives. More often than not one wins over the other.
This time we trumped them both and just got in the car and drove!
The outback is amazing, the landscape soothing.
If you get the chance, fill up the car, pack an eskie and just start driving. Who knows where you will end up and what you may see!
Although, it is great for the heart and good for the soul!
I did wonder, often over the past few years. Many hurdles, so many curve balls, I managed to dodge so many or take them on and recover.
I did not expect this one. Suicide, a word we all fear saying, I must admit I am still hesitant as if I say it, it becomes more real. What’s real you say?
The fact that one minute your life was perfect (well had been) and the next it’s not. It’s gone, in an instant. One phone call changed it all.
The police at my door the night before, our last conversation where you were so lost, so confused.
Where to from here?
The days are long, the nights even more so. It seems the nights have become even more sleepless as the mind wonders. I only had you for a short time but we had memories from a long time, so I wonder how the minds of those who had you for even longer are managing.
I am sure they are not.
The tears come at the most random of times. It could be at the bakery where we had a joke about the long jam cream donuts, the songs you sang to in the car, the random places we visited or even the small sayings or just waking and sitting at window and having three coffees before 8am!
Trauma results in so much….. unease, confusion, disconnection, solitude, drive, guilt – as though you could have changed it and you question over and over how.
You can read books on how to manage the loss of someone by suicide but to be honest only some of the points are valid.
Each journey it’s own. Each journey takes its own path, its own time.
I see, so far on my journey, the fear of reconnecting. The fear of moving further from my home than 50km. The fear of laughter, the fear of being with the family I love and know love me beyond words. I fear having touched them by suicide and more has made me even more of a ‘curse’ than before. Not that I am a curse but when so many curve balls hit you sometimes you wonder.
It’s hard enough realising you’re on your own again, your child on her own again. Our lives keep moving forward even if we wish they wouldn’t.
It’s a choice really, keep plodding or give up.
I wrote a blog about choice over a year ago, I also wrote one about time healing all wounds.
I so wish he had read the one about time healing all wounds.
The holiday of dreams, the laughter, the intimacy, the future and for once it was real it was perfect and then it was gone.
Everyone keeps telling me it’s time to get out, come here, visit here, dinner out, take a walk….. I know all of these would do my mind good.
However, it’s the fear, it’s the fear of the trauma that keeps you in that safe ‘vault’ that safe space.
How can one be happy, or laugh or even feel like you’re moving forward when to be honest you’re not ready.
The sweat beads form, your heartbeats so much faster but no one understands. You were never anxious before but you are now. You used to look forward to adventure and time away, new experiences, watching the students/children thrive and now organising a weekend makes you feel ill.
It’s normal some say, it’s abnormal others say. Who’s to know, unless you have been in these shoes.
All I know is it’s confusing, it’s hard, it’s emotionally and mentally exhausting. I have to trust that as I wrote before, but in so much a different context, time heals all wounds. I have been given gifts from this loss I could never imagine. People who have become such amazing parts of both my daughter and my own lives. Experiences, work, learning and more.
One has to try…. I mean try…… to take the time it takes to heal a wound when affected by losing the person you loved, finally to suicide.
What was once perfect was obviously not.
To question where you yourself went wrong will get you nowhere. I still do, every waking moment but one day maybe I won’t. Until then…
It’s been the phrase we have all heard over the past week or two. However, have you ever really thought about being a woman and winter! Sorry to the men… but winter is a real problem for women!
In summer we shave our legs, our underarms and all the various places as we wear less than we do in winter.
Winter comes around and I don’t know about you? but I breathe a sigh of relief in some ways.
The armpits may grow a little longer, the leg hairs a little bushier and who would know. After all we are rugged up… the jackets are on, the long pants or stockings become the norm and we wear more clothes to bed.
Lately, for me anyway, it’s been months.. Okay you’re already cringing, but it’s been months between shaving. I mean why not?
For me it’s a sadder story than most. For some it’s because you cannot be bothered, for some it’s the principal, for some it’s the reason/person you shaved for, has gone.
It had been weeks for me, actually I am not sure how long it has been between shaving all those parts…
All I know is I was sitting one Sunday afternoon in my work clothes and I looked down…….. the Amazon had arrived! Like literally in Australia.. It was here, poking itself outside my leggings! I was the Amazon! If this was my legs… what were my armpits!
It had been so long!
So the main job that evening was to start the deforestation project! A massive effort mind you.
Armed with the razor, and a new blade, I knew it would take more than one, the project began.
It’s always a nice feeling to shave I suppose. You feel clean, smooth and all sorts of things.
However, in winter, you step out the warm/hot shower and PILOETECTION or goosebumps happens and you realise what was the point!!!
Piloerection is the scientific term for goosebumps!
Why bother in winter? That smooth shaved feeling only lasts seconds! The goosebumps come as you step into the cold and you think, what was the point of shaving….
It is funny when we use names or talk about the stories and adventures of ‘little johnny’. we frequently use the name when discussing hypothetical situations when at school. However, for me, I have written a dear John letter to try and explain why the way I am and why I do the things I do.
The letter would read like this….
I have seen the way you look at me sometimes with a look of suspicion, of unease and lack of trust. You may not realise it then but I do see the hurt and more in your eyes. It is a times like this where I would love to sit you down and explain why I am the way I am and why I do the things I do. I never have the energy or the guts to tell you what I have been through, what I have survived and why it will take time for me to undo what has been done. All I ask is you be patient and come on the journey of rebuilding with me. I ask this as I know at the end of the rebuild you will have all of me, the best of me.
It’s hard to explain but I suppose dot points may be the best as it would take to long to tell you the whole story.
Life was a battlefield, walking on egg shells at all times. I don’t know if you have ever lived like this, but I have.
Here’s a ‘tiny’ snippet of what it was like…. and I mean tiny!
1. The house had to be clean. The sheets, the washing, the sink, the back patios, the pool, the pool filters and everything in between. If it wasn’t then it was A look of disdain and utter disapproval That became the vibe in the house. In front of the children I was made out to be inadequate, even when exhausted and totally drained. Never good enough!
2. The cutlery draw had to match. I kid you not, if one fork was not the same or a spoon was out of place then you were asking for an argument. No one wanted to go there!
3. The kids rooms had to be pristine! Who has ever known a teenager to have a pristine room at all times! It was my fault if it wasn’t, I was an inadequate mother if they were messy! Little did others know the kids had been at work until after 7pm every night with me, waiting, home exhausted and with HW a priority their rooms became something we just managed. After all wasn’t Einstein a messy man and he was a genius!
4. You handed me a carrot and cheese the other day, all I wanted to do was chomp into it but I hesitated. I waited to see if it was okay… okay you say… yes okay to make a noise while I ate. To many times I have been told to leave the room, or to eat quietly. Even made to feel like I was a wild animal all while I thought I was eating quietly!
5. Be showered and shaven! Who would have thought this would be as stressful as it was. There are days and times where this just didn’t happen! Well it had to, whether it be the last few minutes of alone time, of freedom… I had better be shaved and clean. Or clean and fresh as it was said or expect to be told I was unacceptable. You are disgusting, even dirty. Who would have thought being a full time single mum of two, a mother of two puppies and the maintainer of a house was enough of an excuse! Never!
6. Socialising… friends you say, what are they. I had many good friends, friends who I had had for over a decade and they were deemed unacceptable. If I hung out with them the fight, the drama and the tension in the house made it not worth it. I began to think I was at fault. It’s all my fault and I should not see them as it would make the household more peaceful. So I cut them off. Little did I know this was the plan!
7. Bitterness. I have never been a bitter person, I have never had the time for it. The upbringing I have had, was one of opportunity and wonderment. I am more thankful for that now than ever. To have someone in the house who is bitter and angry, always, and I mean ALWAYS, is draining and soon this begins to eat away at your armour. You begin to doubt yourself and question your upbringing. Note to self! Never do this! They are not worth it! (Living with a narcissist!)
8. Naked in bed. To this day when we fall asleep naked I feel uncertain. I worry that when you wake you may see all of me. The stretch marks from my child, the rolls or love handles I have. The slightly saggy (I say slightly but hey…) breasts that fed my child and are not what I want them to be. I am totally exposed. I never had this before. I was always expected to be covered. Whether it be in uncomfortable lingerie or silly underwear, I had to be dressed. Now with you, it’s like a freedom I have never known, a luxury I am having to learn and by god it’s amazing! You are amazing. Day by day you’re setting me free!
9. Adventure? What was that? Until you came along there was none! The furthest I had ever been was the lounge and Netflix. If we ventured further than that it was a mission and to be honest more of a trying expedition than a fun one. Me being on super ‘high alert’ to ensure the kids were on their best behaviour. The food was perfect because my goodness I forget something, even the right butter, then the trip was hell! So adventures were not high on our list! They were more an anxiety and stressor for me! With you, who knows, they are spontaneous, unexplainable, enjoyable and have always made me smile. Your ability to turn a walk in the grass plains into a tree climbing, deer stalking adventure amaze me. Your ability to roll down a sand dune and make everyone laugh is heartwarming. You blow me away with your patience and sheer sense of adventure. Nothing is unattainable! We have climbed mountains, been lost in the bush and much much more all bare foot and care free! I have never felt so refreshed and complete as I do with you!
10. How’s your day been? A simple question but one that was never asked. I can say NEVER asked! You ask it everyday. In the past my day was never a topic of conversation. Never considered as I was the one who was at home every night. No, I did not work shift work. No, I did not drill holes underground and no I never worked over night, in your eyes! My overseas 2 weeks trips never counted! However, I do work with 120 young people every, day at least. I am responsible for 120 as a head of year. Their social, mental and physical well being. I am there 24/7 for them. When they are in tears, when down in the dumps and also when celebrating the small things! Whether it be family, friends or even something as serious as suicide I am there. I am their person. It’s not an 8-3pm job, it’s more than that. Not only did I parent two children of my own and two dogs and maintain a house but I educated and looked after more than you would ever know! I am a parent to more than just my own!
11. Family! I cannot tell you how much my family means to me. I would never be able to begin to explain it to you. You have seen it. We have travelled the world. Continents even. We have been poor and not wealthy but okay. They have been by my side through times normal families would have deserted their own. They have helped me financially to ensure my daughter is brought up the best she could be. We have had sleepless nights, tears and arguments. We have had talks of ending it all, well I have and they have been there. Through thick and thin. To then have someone try and cut that out. To have someone try and turn me against them, was unthinkable! To isolate me from the one thing that has kept me going! Let’s just say thank goodness they did not succeed. Thank goodness I have the family I do. I would not be here, and I mean living, without them. That I say is the truest thing I have ever said!
12. Food and more! While I know you worked away and hard. So did I. It was an evening where I had parent teacher interviews both tuesday and Wednesday until 7pm. I arrived at school both those days at 7am. Those are 12 hour days as you would always say. My goodness, let me think, how did I forget to make sure an amazing dinner was on the table, or a huge meal, all of which you expected. He would fly in from 7 days, 14 days or 21 days away and expect their to be me, in my apron, primed and ready. Sexy, shaven, well rested, the house clean, the kids washed, the lawns mowed, the dogs walked and clean, the e-mails done, the bills paid and much much more but what if I couldn’t. What if I had no option, no time. There were times where this was possible but also times where it was not possible. This understanding was not there. The patience and acceptance was not there. More the anger, the disappointment and the words that could not be taken back, said. It was tiring, it was hard and more than ever I was made to feel like I was never good enough. It took me a while to realise it was not me but him. He was never happy. He would never be happy and the only thing he could do was make others unhappy. Just like himself.
13. Small breasts, stretch marks and more. Unfortunately but proudly I can say I have stretch marks, I have breast that sag a little lower than before and I have love handles. While not an excuse of having a child or being 20 when I had her I wear them with pride now. I did not before. Before you, John, I wore them with disgust and angst. I wished for ‘bolt ons‘ as they are called. I wished for a tummy tuck and the perfect figure. To be honest I was 110kgs when I had her and now I am 76kgs. I think that’s enough of a triumph. The stretch marks will never disappear I wear them, as I said with pride, I built a human being and they are evidence of that. I tried to feed a young child and my breasts sit a little lower because of this I carry weight on my hips because I make more time for her than I do I. For now. Until she is independent and the woman I know she’s going to be. Then I will focus on me. I was told over and over my appearance was unacceptable and how I would be able to better myself with surgery or something. However, I never wanted it, I was made to think it would be the only way to make myself beautiful. Now that seems so stupid, so out there and such a wild expectation! You go to bed with me for me, you don’t pay attention to my lower lying breasts, the stretch marks I have and the love handles. Thank you!
The list could truly go on, but I would never know where to stop! Or expose myself and the hurtful and controlling nature of what I was exposed to. All I know is give me time and I will give you all of me.
I love big, laugh big and give big. I know nothing else. Always do to the detriment of myself. Be patient. Realise when I say I am yours, I am.
You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You have freed my heart, my soul and certainly my spirit! One cannot ask for more!
You take my breath away everytime I see you for no other reason than you are all I ever hoped for. All I could ever ask for in a partner. You are honest, upfront, loving and most of all appreciative of who I am and what I do.
I am sure your mind raced ahead and you finished the above heading before you even realised you had. This saying has been around for decades, one I myself was taught and raised hearing more often than not. I recall even using it when in the playground as a young child in South Africa.
The saying went like this for those who are new to it:
“Stick’s and Stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”
How this has changed. As a little girl who used to ride her bike around the streets of the neighborhood in South Africa I remember yelling this out to those pesky boys as I rode off. Feeling invincible! Now, this saying seems almost silly, stupid and irrelevant even……. backwards!
I often sit across from your people who are struggling with what has been said to them either directly or indirectly through a social media forum. A forum which we have limited if no control over!
A parent’s, teacher’s and schools nightmare!
I never even knew what Facebook was until I arrived in Australia, I did not even have my own mobile phone. The day I received my Nokia ‘brick’, at the age of 14, I was so excited. This was a time when the game ‘snake’, where you pressed the numbers, 2,4,6 and 8 to ensure it never touched the walls of your screen and thus the game ended, was the highlight of having a phone. Where sending a message meant pressing all the buttons multiple times until the letter you wanted appeared, then having to wait if you need a letter from that same number again ………..a camera?? what phone had a camera! I even remember the craze of the flip phones, the idea that you could flip it open when it rang and that was cool! I was cool!
How times have changed!
Now more often than not I find myself, as a teacher after 11 years, involved in daily conversations with our young people. Their ages ranging from 10 to 17 year, about the impact a few words or an image can do have when sent through these devices.
Forums can be anonymous, instagram is no longer just photos and this is just two of the many social media forums available to our young people!
You can be recorded at any time day or night, your messages can never be deleted, your words are now in the ‘ether’ forever. That photo you never meant to take, the words you were never meant to type, the forum you joined or the snapchat of your friend you laughed at….. all at the tip of our young peoples fingers. The ramifications of all of these are immense!
I think this vulnerability is new to some of us, myself included and I would not say I am old. Technology has just move forward at a pace I am sure many of us are unable to even comprehend.
I suppose it is about educating ourselves, spending the time getting to know what the forums are and how they work. Just the other day I asked my 13 year old to give me a quick tutorial on how snap chat worked. While this was in fact for me to learn I also was able to see/monitor her snap chat. A quick glance at it anyway.
I frequently see students who hide their phones and make up fake accounts all so they can be accepted and seen as normal by their peers. This is scary as a teacher and even more so as a parent of a young teen!
Its being aware, being educated and knowing what is out there that will enable you to keep an eye on your young people! It is important to do this as from what I have seen and heard over the past few years would shock you! The level of manipulation, bullying, harassment and even impersonating young people to gather information is very real.
A touch of a button, a photograph, a few words and a young persons life can be changed forever!
I think the times have shaped this saying and it should read;
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words may forever hurt me.”
Emotions are a funny things. They can creep up on you ever so slightly and then completely take over in a matter of seconds.
It can be when you hear a song, when someone says something or even when you’re sitting alone reflecting on a simple moment in time.
I have found myself spending some time reflecting on what has been and what is to come. With the start of 2019 well and truly upon us I find myself looking at the upcoming year with fresh eyes.
It has been a while since I started a year with laughter, great company, trips to the beach and even some time to myself.
However, there have been moments when I have had open and honest conversations with people or those random ones where someone has said, out loud, ‘wow you’ve been married twice and you’re what, 34?’.
It’s happened, yes it has. I have digested that, but I don’t think I have fully accepted that what has happened in my life thus far has really happened…..
Growing up with parents who have been married for 45 years this year. High school sweethearts and the true ‘Cinderella story’ I always imagined that would be me.
I feel a deep sense of regret, sometimes on a daily basis that I failed myself.
I have to stop my brain from running away with itself and remember why I have already been married twice at the age of 34.
It was not that I gave up, it was not that it was to hard. It was to save me. To allow me and my daughter the best opportunities. The ability to grow and be the best we could be.
I was young when I first got engaged. The ripe old age of 18. Yes, you read right, 18. I remember being ‘lustfully’ in love. Those amazing university days when life seemed so easy. I did call it off and realised I was to young, we were to young. However, a few weeks after this I found out I was pregnant. I remember speaking to my daughters father and my words were; ‘I have never and will never contemplate not having this child. You can be in or not. If not that’s okay I know I have the family and the support to go it alone’. We had been together 3 years and engaged for a time so we both new we had something. We decided to get married, be the family we knew we could be, or thought we could be to bring up our child. Together.
4 years on this seemed something we both could not manage. We realised that our lives had not even started at the age of 18/19 and we had a young baby. He was not sure where he wanted to be and and what he wanted to do and I at the time was self motivated and driven. It was like we were holding each other back. For us both and for our child unfortunately for us we knew being apart would be better. So that’s what we did. A lot of water, dirty and full of silt has travelled under that bridge since! However, I must admit my daughter loves her dad, and me, and she is growing up to be one hell of a young lady so we have to be doing something right!
The second marriage was a whirlwind literally forgotten in time at this point. It started with a simple question in what was known as ‘Friday’s’, a night club on the Sunshine Coast and it turned into an eventful 6 year relationship.
It was in this 6 years I learnt that I can be broken, everyone can. It’s how we get up that counts. There were good times, even great times. I learnt to be a step mum to a 12 year old boy. I had to manage the smelly room, the stares and two kids who knew they were not related but had to learn to live one another. With a FIFO husband on all sorts of rosters it was hard work. I always feared the words, ‘you’re not my mum’ and that made parenting hard and unequal at times.
It was in this 6 years I overcame mountains. Went through a long court ordeal and realised that anger and sadness are hard to bear when bringing up a family. It can consume you, unfortunately in my case it did. Not me however, my husband. It’s hard to live with someone angry and constantly negative. It takes effort and constant positivity. However, this can wear anyone down. You can only carry a family for so long before you lose yourself in it.
I began to lose me. I began to think I was losing my own child. Someone as magnificent as her. Head strong, stubborn and with so much love to offer all those around her. The end began when she began to withdraw, so had I. We felt we were not allowed to be happy or positive. The constant demands, expectations and failures. Even though we never failed, it felt like we did no matter what we did or how hard we tried!
I never understood how mentally and emotionally someone could trap you. I never thought that would be me and it dawned on me one eventful evening that that’s exactly what had happened to me. I had been caged and controlled and I was not coping. Even my daughter new! Before I did. How amazing are our young people!
So overnight the second marriage was done. Not even a day after I felt I had been freed. Like one of those amazing hot air candles that they release in Thailand, I felt free.
A weight had been lifted and life just opened up. Not just small doors but huge panel doors!
I could breathe……
So at 34, yes I have been married twice. It’s hard to say and as I mentioned I have digested it but it doesn’t make it easy to explain or talk about.
I am not a failure but instead I have learnt many things. Overcome a lot and I hope that one day when my daughter is older I can explain this all to her.
I can show her she is strong and how to be strong. How she must search for what she needs and someone who compliments her. Someone who holds her high and is proud of her. Someone who asks how her day was and thinks a romantic evening is fish and chips on a rug at the beach.
We may have high expectations but it’s the small things that count the most.
Next time you hear someone has been married more than once, stop yourself before you judge. Hard I know but that’s me.
It may be hard but I am proud of who I am and what I have achieved. There is so much more ahead of me and I can’t wait! 2019 here we come!
Tattoos are something that used to be frowned upon and yet now seem to be something we see on almost everyone.
They vary from small pictures or words to full sleeves, or even whole body works of art.
I have a few.. each with their own story. I think over time that’s what they become. However, I always thought one particular type of tattoo carries with it a curse and I believe, for me anyway, that it is and was true.
My first one was in a way an act of rebellion. I was 18 and had been in Australia 5 years. Being the teenager I was and having been told I was never allowed to get one, what did I did as soon as I was able….. well get a tattoo of course!
At that stage of my life I dreamed of being a marine biologist. You know one of those fit young women who swims with the dolphins and plays with all the marine animals. Like we see at Sea World and on TV.
So away I went, I got a dolphin with a blue Maori pattern. As usual at the time, on the right pelvic bone, which would be seen when I wore my bikinis to the beach.
Back when wearing bikinis was what I did.
It hurt like hell and I managed to keep it hidden from my parents for a while. My mother was the first to spot it and from there well the rest was history.
When I was pregnant my dad used to laugh and comment on how the head of my dolphin was becoming the size of a whale. Note to all the women out there, think about if you’re going to have kids when you decide on where to get a tattoo as they don’t quite return to normal after being stretched beyond what feels like a few watermelons!
Needless to say my tattoo returned to somewhat normal and my parents forgave me.
Time for a bigger one I said.
A few years later and a painful 8 hours I had a side piece. A somewhat green, red and yellow cherry blossom. Something I pictured as white and pink but did not turn out that way.
A piece that I have fond memories of.
The next smaller one was of a persons name. Now I say this like that as I had always vowed NEVER to get a persons name tattooed onto me. I always thought it would ‘curse’ me and or the relationship in some way.
People used to laugh at me when I told them this but I stood my ground.
Well until January 2018. I had been married almost two years and with him for nearly six. We had talked about getting each other’s name on ourselves…….. ah, sweet, how romantic you might be thinking or even cringing and thinking how corny. Well it was always discussed and I managed to put it off for over a year.
However, January 2018 rolled around and we had bought the house, been married for almost two years as I said before so I though that it couldn’t possibly be cursed. Everything was going swimmingly. Or so I thought.
On it went, 1 hour and a small simple pattern on my left wrist.
By May 2018 we were separated, by July the house we bought only a year earlier was sold and I haven’t heard from him in months.
Cursed you say? Was it the tattoo? Who knows but I do stand by the notion that by putting his name on me I had in some way cursed myself. It was just a feeling.
It’s now January 2019 and I have started the process of having it lasered off.
This was day 2. It took about 15 minutes and hurt like hell. It’s literally like having your skin burnt off, slowly, and you cannot pull away!
This is three weeks later. Healing well but will take at least three more goes before it will be faded enough to be faded enough not to be seen or even tattooed over.
Itchy as hell and still a reminder but soon enough will be gone.
Round two and this time I thought it would hurt less. I was very wrong! This session hurt even more. She spent a lot longer on it and as she said later; “I really zapped it!” You sure did I thought.
Two days later and it was swelling up like a water ballon on a tap. It hurt, was itchy and burnt when I touched it. One more session to go I hope!
It’s healing, two weeks now since the last session.
I suppose after all this, and when it’s finally gone I am not sure it won’t be ‘completely gone’. There may still be marks and a tiny bit of scarring but at the end of the day it will be a constant reminder for me.