A random thought on relationships.

A random thought on relationships.

My thoughts on relationships, for what it’s worth, is that they never work unless you know how to love yourself first.

Because in order to be able to give unconditional love, you have to both understand what that means, and know how to give it to yourself.

You see, if you don’t value you then how can you ask someone else to?

If you find yourself worthless, then how can you ask someone else to find you worthy?

We have to love ourselves because in life, what you put out, is what comes back to you. So when we show our confidence, and our self love, then what comes back to us is confidence in us and love for us.

Every relationship I have had fail, I can absolutely attribute to my own actions. And when I look back, the benefit of hindsight shows me that in actual fact they were doomed to fail the moment I allowed the relationship and other party, to dominate the relationship. When they have caused me to lose my sense of self. My self worth. My ability to make my needs at the top of the list.
Every. Single. Time.

Yet the relationship that has stood the test of time?
Is the one I never expected to last.
The one where I stood my ground. Where I put my feelings and needs first. Where I had grown myself into a person who I was starting to know and who I knew was important.
I’ve still made sacrifices – because a relationship is sacrifices.
It’s always two people colliding, then finding a path that works for both. And being able to understand that sometimes we need to take different paths but that how we get there is not as important as that we get there in one emotional piece and still love each other at the end of the road.
This one, has had good, bad and ugly. It’s had peace and war.
But mostly, it’s had mutual respect.
We respect our differences and celebrate them. We work through our issues. We get mad. We get emotional. We get happy.
Most of all, we always communicate and we both love deeply and unconditionally. So no matter how much we piss each other off, we know that being mad about dumb shit, doesn’t make us love each other any less. It just means we are mad right now and need space and conversation to figure out the next move.

I believe there are multiple someone’s out there for all of us, and I believe that those people, come along when we need them and when we are ready for them.
Some for a reason, to teach us something.
Some to show us what we need.
Some to make sure we know what we don’t need.
But if your heart and mind are open, those people we need will come into our lives when the time is right.
And in the meantime, working on loving yourself, and making yourself the person you want to be is so important.
So that when the right person comes along, you can spend your energy on the relationship – not rebuilding yourself.

Drifting.

Drifting.

So… it’s been a while since I’ve logged in here.

So much is coming out to the forefront of my memory that it’s actually not having the positive impact I’d hoped. And instead it’s almost sent me into a tailspin.
I’m not sleeping.
Overeating.
Punishing myself for nothing I’ve done wrong, except in my head it’s all my fault. And I know this is wrong, I truly do. But how do you undo decades of programming?
I’m struggling.

And I feel like I’m being so overwhelmed by some of the memories and things I want desperately to get out and written down…. that I’ve been drowing in emotion which I cannot share with anyone real.
Because no one knows all of my stories.
And I do such a fucking fantastic job of being the person who has their life together.
Who has the perfect family.
The perfect partner.
The excellent business ventures.
Everything going right.
I dress well.
Makeup on point.
Nails amazing.
Hair always done.
Shoes always notable.

Everything I touch, on the outside turns to gold.
On the inside, it’s an empty void with a shadow of a girl floating inside it.

Always looking for something solid to grab hold of… or someone to take hold of her and tell her that it’s going to be okay.

So many times lately I’ve questioned my own existence. My relevance.
Whether anyone would actually notice if I was no longer here and no longer a burden on anyone.
Would their lives in fact be easier without me?

I long for a cliff.
And some days I’ve gone looking for one. The right one.
Because I always imagine standing at the edge. Looking into the sea. And knowing that’s where my darkness will turn into light as the wind rushes past my ears for those few seconds it takes to hit the water. Where everything would go icy cold and still. And there would be nothing but the rush of water in my ears as I close my eyes forever.
And finally I know that my mind and body would be at peace.

I don’t know whether I’d be truly missed.
And that in itself is as painful as any other thought.
I know that the only single thing holding me here right now, is holding my youngest baby in my arms. Because I can tell myself that he might miss me. Because he tells me he loves me every day. He covers me in kisses. Every day. He tells me I’m his favourite and he won’t sleep without me next to him, touching him. Even if it’s only his feet touching me, if I move away, he wakes instantly from deep sleep like he can sense I’m no longer close enough to him.
And sometimes I wonder how he knows it’s what I need?
And I cannot ever tell him.
But he’s my lifeline right now.
It’s all I have,

My Boys. Part I.

My Boys. Part I.

I haven’t spoken much about my babies. So I’m going to tell you about them. Individually.
Beginning with my middle child’s story. Start to now…. in brief of course.

And I don’t want you to get me wrong. All this happened ten years into us. We’d had an amazing, fanciful relationship. Which I’ll talk more about later. But all relationships have one rocky moment. And in twenty years this was our big hurdle.

This boy was conceived when his father and I were in absolute crisis mode.
We had been through so much, and everything was falling apart. I was losing him, and he was losing himself into a world of depression and devastation which (in hindsight) was because of him retiring from competitive sports, and not wanting to admit that Peter Pan was indeed growing up.
We had split up. I had moved out, it had gotten that bad in a very short time.
But there was still a connection, borne of a 10 year adoring love, that even though I was at the limits of what I could cope with at the time, I couldn’t completely let go.
So we would still talk. And I was still trying to get him to see what was going on and how he could keep himself not only alive, but keep his head above water.
But it got hard. So hard.
And I met someone a long way away who made me feel completely free and alive.
So I threw in the towel. As much as I hated to admit it and not only to me but to him, I knew that I had to leave to cut the tie we had.
He took me to the airport. He offered, because I had no ride.
And as much as I was out of ‘our’ relationship, I was still cut so deeply about us being over, that I made the mistake of allowing us one last moment.
I think we both assumed I wouldn’t be back.
This was goodbye.

And for most people that would have been.
Except, as usual with my luck, it wasn’t.
And I’m going to gloss over the whole ‘moving away’ part for now – we will revisit that later of course, because that’s one hell of a story!
But for now, we are going to fast forward to the part where I come home, with my tail between my legs.
Originally, I came back because I had to.
I had a few last loose ends to tidy up, and to sort out my Visa.
I’d bought a return ticket, from there, to home, and back.

And when I got home and found the absolute hot mess I’d left behind, with a trail of destruction and self-abuse he’d undergone, I was shocked as hell.
I was glad at that moment, that I’d a ticket out of there as I couldn’t see at all how me staying to watch him implode would be a good thing.
But there was one small problem.
I was pregnant.
And when I confirmed it here, I went for bloods and a scan, and then I sat alone and worked out the date of conception.
And I cried.
For several days.

You see, in what suddenly felt like another lifetime, I had a beautiful man, who would have given me the world.
And now I was hit with the earth shattering realisation, that I was pregnant. And this baby wasn’t his.
Not. A. Chance.

So I was sitting in a cold waiting room alone, feeling my world implode as I thought about the man this babies father had been. The man he was now. And the mess I was in.
And I wondered whether there was any possibility that this was deliberate.
An act of fate that was telling me that he needed one more chance to wake up and see what he was throwing away.
Against my better judgement, I decided to have a last day out with my bestie. And I told her first. We were supposed to be drinking, and she knew immediately when I didn’t that something was up. She guessed as I started to tell her, and she held me while I cried.
We were at a big outdoor event, and he was there with his friends, I with my girls.
I was (stupid I know) keeping half an eye on him, as a few things he had said to me in the days before had worried me. He was supposed to be working that evening. And I knew he had promised to stop drinking at 12. So he would be sober by 6.
Yet I saw him consume epic amounts of alcohol with no signs of slowing down at all, even when I quietly mentioned was he still working tonight…. I was told off and yelled at.
And he didn’t stop.
In fact, he got so intoxicated, that come closing time he was ditched by his boys as he was too messy. They left him there.
And from a distance I watched as everyone was herded towards the gates. My bestie and I stuck a way back and just made sure he got to the gate. And so I wasn’t far away when he had a full blown drunken panic attack. Somehow he thought the exit gate was an entry and he was convinced he wasn’t going to be allowed through. I remember taking him by the hand and talking him down, calming him. Telling him it was okay, that was the exit and everyone was leaving now, it was home time. That I would help him through the gate and we would get out of there okay. And he let me lead him out.
He was such a mess, he had no idea who I was, or my bestie. And he to this day doesn’t remember the walk to my car. The drive home. Or in fact getting him home and putting him to bed. He also only remembers the mess he made of the bathroom because I left him to clean it up himself……
I sat there while he passed out. Checking on him every hour and watching tv.
His workmate came in because he hadn’t been answering his phone and we sat and talked for a few hours, about the state he was in. How he had been declining and how he was destroying himself and everything around him with his self-deprecation and alcohol abuse.
He was sadly unsurprised that he had to keep working and do his shift that night.
As soon as he was coherent enough to drink water and knew who I was, I left.

The next morning he came to find me.
Sheepish and apologetic. Embarrassed I saw him like that. And mortified when I told him how the day had gone from an outside perspective.
I told him he was going to be a father.
And if he wanted to have anything to do with this baby, or me, ever again. That he needed to take a few days, and he was to decide if he was going to grow up and be the man I knew he could be, or if he wanted to keep playing like an 18 year old drunkard, and never see either of us again. As I wasn’t going to stick around to watch it.
I was out of here. I told him he had a few days, and that he needed to go now.
I didn’t want to look at him today.

He spent a day thinking about what he wanted to do. I have no idea where he went or what he did, but he came back that night and he told me that he wanted to be in both of our lives and that if giving up alcohol was what he had to do to keep us here, then that is what he would do.
I can’t explain how I felt, because I was torn completely in two.
Torn between two lives, and two people. With this tiny human in the mix.
And it took me weeks to even admit to myself what I had to do.
Which was stay.

I sold my business. I cashed in my return ticket.
I made my bed, and now I had to lie in it.

Every week that passed, still hurt. But the pregnancy was easy. I was so fit beforehand that I was strong. I worked until 8 months and then had to stop.
I had a few complications, Polyhydramnios. This baby was a big boy. I was all belly.

I was high risk. Because of risk of loss and the complications of pregnancy and I went into labour on my due date. July 4th. However with my local hospitals policy of intervention only if necessary, I endured three weeks of hell at the end of a smooth and way too easy pregnancy. I’d been active and social and so happy. I went into labour at a party. Because we partied pregnant. We were at a house party as usual for the weekends and I realised that these braxton hicks were oddly rhythmic. Almost synchronised. And I started timing them at 7 minutes. So long and low. Only 20 or so seconds each. But enough for me to give the boy a heads up that this child would be earth side soon. And my daughter was born on her due date so I had no idea this kid would drag things out so. He kept checking on me and we stayed our evening as I kept telling him I’d warn him if things changed but it was slow for now. We went home and I got little sleep as they were annoying enough I couldn’t get comfy.

In the end, we had three hospital admissions, scans and internals. Nights where they would give me pethidine so my body could rest from the contractions and I could sleep monitored. So baby was safe. But he still wasn’t coming.

So they eventually gave in and scheduled a c section for exactly 43w. And I was part relieved and part devastated. So for the last few days I mourned the water birth I’d wanted and prepped myself as best as one can. I had also been warned that should my waters break with a gush I needed to immediately drop to the floor and put my head down, keeping my bum up. Because if my waters broke accidentally now, my baby was at risk of a cord prolapse or the cord tangling round his neck as his cord was very long. Which I’ll admit panicked me. But I had only days to go and after all the false starts I figured he wasnt going come alone.

As in the weeks prior I’d had my cousins visit. No baby.

I’d panicked at one point with 5 minutely contractions at a minute long and called my sister to drive 8 hours to be with me for the birth. Oops no baby.

She stayed a week and gave up and said she was going home. And she had gotten only a few hours away when I called her back and said I’d had a show so come back. My cranky father had turned the car around and brought her back. After ten more days she gave up and went boarding…..

And then the unthinkable happened. I woke up about 7am. I needed to pee, as usual. But when I got up I felt a little gush of fluid and I stopped dead still. My tummy was tightening. And then another little gush. And the ‘just in case’ liner I had in was suddenly very very damp. I thought oh no…. my section was the next day. He couldn’t come yet! I went into panic mode. Called the midwife and awoke him as I knew we needed to move fast while I was only leaking. If my waters fully broke I’d need an ambulance and I’d have only minutes to get the baby out safely. So we did the gauntlet through morning traffic. Luckily it’s a 3 minute drive. And I called my sister back from her snow trip. She was four hours away and she made it in three.

It seemed the little monkey had thankfully for me, broken my hind waters. So the hospital were relieved. But nervous. I was able to soak in the spa bath and walk. Bounce on the Swiss ball. Whatever I wanted. As long as I didn’t go to far as I wasn’t really dilating. Which becomes a recurrent theme for me. All day I laboured and at 7pm they decided to do s controlled break as he still hadn’t broken my membranes fully. In fact I’d even stopped leaking…. so they broke them. And it was pretty epic. I couldn’t see but my sister and he could. He was dumbfounded and she was a part horrified and part impressed. I got a blow by blow as for me, it ramped things up in the most horrendous way.

I hit transition with the first gush and while they mopped up as they slowly released the fluid, they filled an entire laundry bag of towels and I was in pain. I had rolling waves of contractions back to back and I could barely breathe. Focusing was difficult and it was incredibly intense. I remember being snappy and struggling to speak… and I asked if I could push because I couldn’t hold it anymore and the midwife said of course. To let my body tell me what to do. She thought I was dilated so I started to let myself push. But nothing was happening and it took a while before they realised how hard I was working and how he wasn’t moving. So she asked if she could do an internal after we had tried a multitude of positions and none helped. Which was when she realised I’d pushed too early. I wasn’t 10cm and I’d pushed his head down and it was stuck on my cervix. She begged me to stop pushing. They all did. But there was no way I could and I remember growling at her because I couldn’t stop!!! I had no idea how to. And at that point I was on my knees, my bed in a chair position. I was holding the back of the bed and kneeling on it with my feet hanging off. They asked me to lay down so they could move my bed to a theatre room….. and I growled again and I remember yelling no at them. I couldn’t move! Next thing we were on the move with me kneeling on the bed hanging on for dear life as we whizzed past all the rooms and I felt so cold and I was in so much pain……

The new room was warm. And it turned out they had an anaesthetist waiting for me and it took nitrous to get me to sit on the bed I was in so much pain. I was nauseous and starving and starting to freak out as it was now nearing midnight. My baby was stuck…. so I used the nos and held onto him for dear life as they put in an epidural. Which they had tried to tell me was to stop my labour. They needed me to stop pushing. It was a tiny bit funny when all of a sudden he let me go and my sister was suddenly holding me…. while the epidural was going in. As I was breathing out so much nos, that he nearly passed out as he is tall and his head was above mine. He was breathing it in as I was breathing it out and luckily the nurse noticed as she had a chair under him and my sister lined up to take his place before he hit the floor!!! I had to giggle when the pain subsided and I was able to suddenly feel lucid again. And not overwhelmed by contractions.

Finally somewhat sane again I was allowed a hot chocolate while they explained they had to do the epi to stop the contractions and stop me pushing as he was too stuck. But hopefully in and hour or so, those intense contractions would work for me and dilate me properly. I got a breather and to rest.

A few hours later I could feel the contractions more and I commented on them. And suddenly it was all on again. A new midwife now was here. Shifts had changed. And she was commanding and tall. Anne. She looked like a farmers wife. German and quite a presence.

I was instructed to push and I was on my back now as I was too numb for anything else. But I pushed. And I thought I was doing great until she commanded me to stop. Then I got a wave of terror when I heard her tell he and my sister they needed to step back right now and I heard her press the emergency button three times.

My soul dropped. I know what that means and I know that means nothing good. An sos for medical professionals. And as expected all hell broke loose at that point as he was ashen faced and pushed aside. My sister with him as the room was inundated. Paediatric Dr’s and nurses. Midwifes. Obstetricians. So many people.

Then without warning there were suddenly so many people around me and none I knew or recognised. My bed was flipped nearly upside down. And I was told to get ready to push like my babies life depended on it on the count of three. She told me he was stuck and we had to get him out now…. and I told her to please don’t hurt my baby… hurt me. I felt the tears come as I pushed on command and stopped when she yelled at me to stop. Then the two men either side of me apologised to me as suddenly I saw a part of my legs I hadn’t seen in a year… while they separated my pelvis and dislocated my hips…. and she yelled push now and do not stop until I tell you to…. and I pushed with all my might and she pulled with all of hers and I felt him move….. I knew she had him but I had no idea if he was ok.

I saw her ask for him to come and cut the cord. And the room was dead silent and I felt hot tears running down my face. I heard he command him….he needed to take the baby to the paeds right now. And I was panicking. So much that I can’t even remember delivering the placenta. I just remember going into shock…. my whole body was shaking and my tears felt icy. I was so cold and the room was spinning. And then there was a sudden warmth as I was covered with warm blankets and hot towels. He was holding me and trying to warm me and I can still hear him telling me “it’s going to be okay…. you did good bub….” he was kissing my forehead and I didn’t care. I just needed to know if my baby was okay. And I had no words. And no way of asking. I was getting more panicked when I heard the tiniest noise. He looked over and I looked up at him as I could only look up from where I was and I could see relief on his face.

It was then the midwife was suddenly sitting my bed up and telling me I’d done a good job. And she asked me if I wanted to meet my son.

I finally got to hold him then. He was born at 4.45am and it was now 6am. For over an hour I clung desperately to the hope he was alive and now he was finally in my arms. And I felt like I could breathe again. For the first time since he was pulled from me, breathing stopped hurting. And he latched like a champ! Fed his way through a room change and all!

We got back to our room and while I showered, he and my sister dressed the baby. He got to be the first one to put a diaper on. And put clothes on his son. He was so incredibly proud of him he would barely part with him until he finally had to go. He’d been up all night and I wasn’t allowed to leave yet as this baby had a low temp so we needed to be monitored till it came up. So he and I snuggled and did skin to skin in bed and fed on and off. And I sent his Daddy home to sleep and go to work for a couple of hours until we could go home.

They let us go at 6pm and we got to go home. A family.

We stopped off to introduce the baby to his Dad and his partner. Who were every bit the spring grandparents right from day 1. That tiny dot of a boy wrapped them around his little finger at the first cuddle and he was less than 12 hours old!

We loved being home though. Even if I had to fight my sister and him to cuddle the baby. It was so lovely how adored he was. He was so sweet and snuggly. He loved cuddles and boobing. And I couldn’t get enough of watching this giant man, so utterly infatuated with this tiny baby. He was just smitten.

He was a true 50-50 parent.

For someone who never wanted kids, it was incredible how he took to fatherhood. He was the first to offer, or just do a nappy. Dirty or wet. Clothes on and off. Laundry for the baby. Bath time. Nap time. He did it all. And in the early days he was so desperate to help where he could. Even to the point of night feeds….. I will never forget waking one night, boobs hurting. The baby was 4 weeks old so my milk was still out of control. I woke and panicked as I couldn’t hear the baby. I sat bolt upright and turned on the lamp. And the room was empty. So I hurtled our the door thinking something was terribly wrong…. to find that he was in the lounge, cradling his tiny son in his arms and singing to him. While feeding him a bottle of reheated frozen expressed milk.

“Because you were exhausted bub. I thought you needed to sleep. I got this, look he’s almost asleep again”

He had woken when he woke. Changed him. Fed him. And he put him back to sleep.

He did that every second night. And it was the most precious gift to me. Seeing him be the man I saw in him through all the bad stuff. Through all the shitty behaviour. I had somehow given him the thing he needed to get himself into a better place. To man up and find his happy again.

I gave him a family.

And while the event was traumatic for both of us, we talk about it a lot, we both feel so blessed that this precious boy gave us both a new lease on life and a new perspective on ourselves and who we wanted and needed to be. He gave us life. Unconditional love. And he showed us how much we love each other.

Our special little soldier.

Beauty in the little things.

Beauty in the little things.

*cue soppy post*
Happy Anniversary to Mr Longterm and I.
This one was a big numbered one, even though we didn’t celebrate. Not really. I guess you could say that the celebration was lowkey….. Actually it was a day in the office together, because it was ‘office day’ and then me taking on the job of sorting out the things he mucked up. Because this week has been intensely busy. And when you are constantly rushing, things go wrong sometimes.
But that’s just par for the course isn’t it? Really, he’s so lucky he has me…
And I’m so lucky we have work to keep my mind busy.

But seriously.
We live together.
We work together.
We parent together.
And I can’t think of anyone I would rather have by my side, or waiting for me when I come home…
I’m always grateful for the constant support through my crazy schemes…. strange hobbies…. my adventures and wanderings.
In the same way I’ve stood beside him through everything from pro tours to pro disasters.
And when he needs it done, he knows I’ll do it. I might complain a lot, but he can always trust the job will be done right. And that’s cool.

We share so many interests…. Yet we both have our own hobbies we do apart.
We share some of those hobbies though.
It’s a beautiful balance. And I love that we can! We live hard and love hard.
BMX & Skating. Snowboarding. Wakeboarding. Motocross. MTB.
We are both complete adrenalin junkies. And while he might be better on a bike than me, he knows I’ll give anything a go. All challenges accepted.

We have created two amazing little humans along this journey who are the perfect mix of us both. Fascinating seeing them reflect the different facets of us both, intertwined into two very cool little people.
Because of us, I look forward to the future.
When we get to grow old together and watch them become men.
And hopefully we get to help them raise our grandchildren one day and celebrate many more anniversaries.

I love him with all my heart. And I’m grateful to him for every day we share. Even when he pushes every last button I have.
I love that he hates sleeping if he is not touching me.
And I love him even though he hates texting me back.

Only the strong survive. And together, we are strongest.

20 down. At least another 40 to come I’d say….. if not more!

Breathing.

Breathing.

So, the past few days have been hazier than usual.
Unintentionally so.
But the bombshell of hearing about him….. really threw me for a loop.

It’s intensely difficult to achieve sleep, when your entire moral compass is in complete meltdown.
Because hearing he had surgery to amputate a limb to try to save him from the sepsis that’s slowly killing him, alongside a laundry list of other ailments…
It just feels so innately wrong to be feeling a sense of elation and relief when you know someone else is in incredible pain. And not just him, but his family – who did nothing wrong. They cannot be blamed for him – sins of the father and all that.
Half of me is on a high. And the other half feels insanely guilty.
I’m going to hell for wanting to laugh and jump for joy.

But I already know, that I am never going to have to worry about bumping into him on the street.
Never again will he somehow manage to be on my doorstep.
Never again will I fear the suburb where he lived.
Never again will I fear him.
Because in the state he is in, he cannot ever hurt or scare me again.

And that makes me feel……Relieved. Happy. Wickedly happy.
Am I a bad person for feeling like this?
I sincerely hope, that when it comes to some kind of judgement day that this truckload of intense feelings of happiness based on someone else’s misery, are overlooked for the reason it makes me so happy.
Because I know I’m justifying here, but what he did was so inhuman… soul destroying. And has impacted my entire life.
And for that, I feel like I’m allowed to have a moment of relief for him suffering the way I have my whole life.
Only it’s the end of his, and it couldn’t have come sooner.

Sleep eludes me.

Sleep eludes me.

As usual for me, I’m laying here and on my phone. Because I can’t put it down. And because there’s no point putting it down.

It’s not like I’m going to fall asleep….. not yet. Not until the meds kick in and my brain goes numb yet again.

That sounds terrible doesn’t it. I’m somewhat dependent on medicine to make me sleep. And I say somewhat because as afraid as I am of not sleeping, I’m also afraid of addiction. So I will promise you that I’m very careful. I have a mixture of sleep aids and I mix them up. I go 2-3 nights with nothing. And those nights I barely sleep the first two but the third I fall asleep fast – because I’m exhausted. Beyond exhausted. Then a couple of nights I’ll take half an antihistamine. And one night I’ll take half a sleeping tablet. Other nights I’ll end up with a migraine from the stress of trying to sleep and not getting enough sleep so those nights I fight the pain till I’m not able to bear it any longer and I cave in and sleep when the pain meds give me relief from the pain. Some nights I try herbal sleep aids. And sometimes they work and sometimes they don’t… you never quite know. Some nights I resort to anti-anxiety meds. But I’m so worried about any one of them not working, that I’m too scared to take any of them regularly. Or more than half at a time – except when I took a whole Ativan before my eye surgery. Because the fear of remembering that overcame the fear of the pills not working….. Lesser of two evils really was that one.

I’ve tried so many things. Magnesium powder. Iron supplements. A super dark room. No technology after 7pm (do you even know how hard that was???). Regular waking times. Lots of sunshine during the day. Tart cherry juice. Melatonin. Good multivitamins. Probiotics. Meditation. Sleep inducing sounds.

You name it, I’ve tried it.

And it’s ridiculous. Because I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t do drugs. Not the illegal kind. And I finally have the ability to sleep (child related story for another time) yet it eludes me.

Some nights I feel like it’s almost in my reach…. and then another daft thought hits and I wish I could stop them. I wish I knew how.

You see I think about absolutely ridiculous things so far out of my control…. yet they control me.

Like earthquakes. I’m terrified of them. I’m so certain my home will be destroyed, my babies and partner killed. Me hurt. And some nights it’s so bad that I make my kids sleep in my room using the excuse that I just love them and want them close. But they have no idea it’s that I’m terrified of not being able to get to them fast enough if another big quake hits. And that ones been so much worse since the quake that damaged much of our city. I can’t blame that entirely but it does seem like it triggered me somewhat.

Another one is fire. For no reason whatsoever I go through nights convinced our home will burn to the ground and we will all die. Or worse, I won’t be able to save one of my children. It’s so bad that I turn off almost all multi boxes in my house every night. In fact during the day as I use things I turn the multi box on to use them then turn them right off again. Ironically even as I’ve typed this I had to run upstairs to check on my child and check I turned off a Scentsy Warmer. And there was no way I could not check. It would have played in my mind till I went up.

I worry about my partners work and him being hurt on the job.

I worry about my kids at school and what if the youngest chokes on a grape. Or the oldest gets bullied and commit suicide. Even though I know both are ridiculous. Grapes must be halved at kindy and my son is more likely to be captured by aliens than be bullied at his amazing school.

I know all the things I worry about are so stupid. And I try to tell myself this every day.

No the plane I’m on won’t crash.

Yes my kids dad can keep them alive while I’m away working for 27 hours because that’s the most I can stand to be away from them for even though getting the early flight home cost me eleventy billion dollars and I officially made no money on that work trip.

My gas hot water cylinder isn’t going to spontaneously combust and blow me up. Because that’s just weird. I mean really. Who has even heard of that happening in real life????? Hmm actually don’t answer that one….

The air conditioning unit isn’t going to cause a roof fire and burn us to the ground. Because it just won’t alright? Got it?

That little wobble wasn’t a precursor to a soul destroying earthquake you are just sitting in a rocking chair you twit.

That noise wasn’t a demon attacking your house it was just next doors cat jumping off the roof and onto the carport roof on his way out roaming. The same as every other night at 10pm for the last 7 years.

No you don’t need a wine to calm your nerves because the phone rang. No one has died. Your partners been on call nights for years so you should be bloody well used to it by now.

And yes the smallest one is still breathing and if you keep poking the sleeping bear, it’s going to wake up thinking it’s had a nap now and then you really won’t get to sleep for the night because come 4am you will be far too busy losing your ever loving mind whilst trying to convince said child that; it really is night time, yes the sun is down, no your not lying, that everyone else on the planet is sleeping and so should they be, no they can’t bounce on the bed or play Xbox, the internet doesn’t work at night, it’s not breakfast time yet, no they can’t have some bubbles (soda) and then giving up and handing them an iPad if they will just shut up and stick their headphones on and let you sleep for five minutes before you have to get up and start the school run.

I am so guilty of that last one that it’s not even funny. Even if it is just a tiny bit amusing right now…. while he’s sound asleep.

Right now though? My eyes are heavy. And my child on the right is breathing noisily which makes me strangely relaxed. I know he’s alive. My partner on my left is snoring and I have a snoring child on the bed at the foot of mine.

Everyone present and accounted for. So now I can let myself drift away. Into a restless sleep where I’ll be up ten times and wake up at 7am wishing I could have five more hours sleep but if I try I’ll be wide awake by 8.30 and having to get out of bed.

So I bid you adieu.

And I offer thanks to my Dr for tonight’s sleep action.

Falling

Falling

This week has been so intense. And so busy and full on. And it’s funny, I recently read a post by another blogger and I made a connection in my head, that I’m often stupidly busy.

And I wondered aloud whether there is a direct correlation between how busy I am and how badly things are for my mental state.

As I feel like there is. That dawning realisation that my busy-ness is actually keeping me alive somehow. Because when I’m busy, I have commitments. And when I have commitments I feel responsible for things and I feel so much guilt about not completing them or leaving people in the lurch, that I’m stuck here until I’ve seen them through.

I never really noticed that before. Even though I constantly get people asking me how I do all the things I do.

How I cope with the workload I create for myself.

And honestly sometimes I want to crumple in a pile on the floor and sob that I’m not coping. I can’t do this anymore and all I want is to be dead….. and sleep forever….. but I don’t.

I paste on a bright smile and I laugh lightly and go with something along the lines of ‘gosh I don’t know, you just do it because it needs to be done ya know?’

Internally I’m second guessing every choice. Wishing my life was different. But externally I look like I have everything together.

Internally, every night I wonder what the fastest and easiest way to commit suicide is. But externally I appear comfortable and competent.

Internally I’m a fucking mess who can’t adult. Not even slightly. And if a real adult saw my thoughts they would know I’m a fraud – a petulant and sometimes irresponsible teenager inside an adults body. Because externally I run three companies, have multiple children at home, am supervising property developments, managing rental properties, volunteering for charity work and for the school and kindy committees….

Internally I wonder how the fuck our companies make money and I get so anxious about decisions I sometimes just get irrationally angry and switch off. Externally I look cool, calm and collected and I act like a #bossbitch who doesn’t let anyone push her around or walk all over her.

How do you reconcile those two things? Really?

I describe myself as a high functioning sufferer of anxiety and depression.

Because in the past I’ve suffered crippling depression where I didn’t get out of bed for six weeks. And that was non-functioning depression.

This time, I make myself get up every day even though I want to stay in bed. I force myself to bed even though insomnia has me blogging at 1am. I make myself pretend life is a bed of roses when I’m falling apart.

I take a xanax and ‘cope’ with life. Or a sleeping tablet. But I try not to use them often I save them for when I’m desperate.

Because one of my fears is addiction. And another is not being able to control my fears. So I need those meds to work and I’m so scared of building any sort of tolerance to them I only allow myself a half tablet at once and never more than once a week. The rest of the time I suffer in silence. Never telling a soul how every day I want to die.

How I long for a cliff I could drive off and into the ocean forever.

And if it literally wasn’t for my children, I wouldn’t be here now. But I cannot break their hearts. They are my anchor. At least for now. But I’m scared of the day when that’s not enough…..

Terrified.

A strange kind of life

A strange kind of life

Things got really settled for me quite quickly.

Even though never in a million years would I think that I would have been standing next to a man like the one that chose me.

He was a hard worker and self motivated. But with a more quiet kind of confidence about him. An amusing, quick wittedness about him and a retort/quip/comeback to everything.

He was a smart man who had his own set of confidence issues which were more to do with his sport and competing instead of toward his daily life. He was a top level competitor. One of the best in his field.

And in his work life he was talented beyond belief. I got to watch him work a lot as more and more I found myself accommodating his work time and our hang out time as being the same thing. Particularly in the evenings when he would have to drop everything for a work call. I would go with him just to squeeze a few more hours out of our together day.

And after a few months I resigned from my job. It wasn’t the job that had been advertised to me. I was supposed to be store manager but the assistant manager who thought he would have been moving up to that role so at the dummy. So to placate him they made us both managers of a tiny store. And life was getting more and more awkward as he hated having to report to someone. Toxic workplaces are always shitty so I got our while the going was good.

And I got out thinking I’d find another job really quickly. I was highly skilled and motivated as well as attractive and qualified in IT. Networking engineering and solutions. Web design, infrastructure. Even physical machine builds. And I was excellent at customer service. But even then I was struggling for the first time and I was struggling to pay my rent on time. So I debated moving back to Mums and he invited me instead to come and live with him. We had been going out three months. It was as good a time as ever right?

I moved in. Packed everything I had. Sold my bed and some bits and pieces and scaled right back on life as his place. I couldn’t call much more than a shack…. over a garage. With wonky floors and windows. Two rooms. An outdoor shower – in our cold winters I can tell you that was an adventure!!! The kitchen and lounge were one room. Bedroom another. The lounge was also his work office that he shared with his Dad.

Oh boy. I don’t even know how to describe it but it became home for about a decade.

We went through some (more for me really) rough moments there. With a few of the women he has been dangling carrots for and never following through with. Some of these women wouldn’t leave him alone and I put my door down after a few months. No more visits unless these girls were prepared to come to our house and meet me. Which went down like a lead balloon. But I was firm on this one. And I wasn’t going to give in. So most of them slowly drifted away, thankfully. The odd one would call from time to time to catch up and they would vanish again quickly when he would tell them we were still together.

All but one. I shall call her J. An early childhood teacher who was besotted and acted entirely pathetic when it came to D. Or Mr Longterm.

She would bring her car into work to be worked on and I would be asked to find somewhere else to be those days and I would fume. Until one day I said nope. Not happening. This is my house too and if she ever wants to bring her car back then she needs to show me some respect. Or she could go elsewhere. And whoooooooooo boy didn’t that open up a can of worms. Because of course she refused to come up and meet me and swiftly left saying she would come back and pick it up when it was done.

So pickup time rolled around and again I told my partner if he ever wanted to work on her car again he’s best being her up to meet me. Otherwise she was going to have to go elsewhere. And she again left a few minutes later. By which time I was furious. But she drove to the end of the street. Called my partner on the phone and desperately begged him to meet her down there and this man actually walked away from his upset and hurt partner to talk to someone he called ‘just a fuck buddy bub’

I packed my bags that day. And when he came back I wasn’t interested in speaking to him while I collected my things, no matter what he had to say and it was when I went leave he physically stopped me by blocking my exit and begged me not to leave as he had done what I’d suggested and told her she had offended me so much and been trying to be so sneaky that I wasn’t going to have anything to do with her and that if he had any respect for me, or us, then he would cut her loose.
A little mean, but I felt so solidly that if she truly cared for him as a friend (like I do with my male friends) then she wouldn’t have a problem coming to meet me. She wouldn’t have any issue with coming round for coffee. Hanging out with us. Being a part of both our lives.
But this whole, refusing to set foot in the house if I was there? Asking him to only see her when I wasn’t around? Nope.
That’s not how I roll.
It’s either all out in the open, and honest. Or it’s not happening. And I felt that it was his place to decide whether he really wanted her as a friend, and to ask her to be involved in our lives, or he could choose to go and be with her. Either way wasn’t a fun decision for the poor guy, but I don’t like secrets. And I don’t trust people who want couples to keep secrets from each other. It builds distrust, and I already had enough of that going on!
He was adamant he didn’t want me to leave though. So I guess at least that was a priority for him….

She, like the others, disappeared after that. I think once he realised I was serious about his ‘girls’ either accepting me and learning to enjoy both of our company, then they needed to be history.
We had so many friends, as I said to him one night when we were talking about them, that he could pick and choose who he wanted in his life, so he needed to make the hard decisions about which people were important and weren’t. Which he could live without and which he couldn’t. And most importantly, which were going to be the ones he could trust to support his relationship goals, and which were just going to work to tear them down.
I know my preference is for friends who will support you, even through your dumb decisions. Who will help you climb out of your mistakes and learn and grow from them. Not the friends who would drag you deeper into the mire and lose you in the darkness.
And he made a lot of dumb decisions over the years.
So it was easy to see who was really there for him and who stuck it out through all the rubbish and was still there to see all the good.

I know now, looking back, he’s glad he made the choice he did, even if it was a choice he didn’t want to make. Because he didn’t want to hurt any of them.
He has a good heart through it all.
And a cute ass.

Hanging on

Hanging on

Sometimes I never quite know whether I’m going to make it to the end of the day.

I know that sounds terrible. But right now we have so much going on in our lives and so much stress that there are times when I just wanna scream…

Stop the world… I wanna get off

There has to be a breaking point right? A point where the human psyche just cannot tolerate any more. Where the decision is categorically removed from your hands and your brain goes into some kind of overload protection mode? I mean, when one is given so much to deal with, it’s just kinda a given that you get to places where the darkness envelopes your mind like a fuzzy blanket and all you can do is close your eyes and succumb to the nothing.

I’m torn between wanting to sleep all day. To ignore all my responsibilities, and just rest. And the guilt that goes along with that when I know that if I do, it’s not just me who I’m letting down. It’s my children and my partner who works insane hours and is exhausted beyond belief. Because he would end up picking up the slack. And I just feel like I can’t do that to him.

He has no idea of how many times I have imagined driving my car off a cliff somewhere into the ocean. Or of taking so many painkillers that I would float away forever. Or of how I’ve calculated whether it’s possible to hold your own breath long enough to stop your heart.

I know he would miss me. And I know it would break him. Because I’ve had to be there for him when he lost loved ones and I know that pain he would suffer. I know my kids would be devastated and would struggle to get through life. And those two things are what I cling to even though I hate my life so much. I hate the idea of causing my babies pain more. And their dad being broken would hurt them deeply. He is quite literally too exhausted to cope right now and I don’t know how to help him as I’m too stressed and exhausted myself.

I wish it was easier to find staff. I just don’t understand why we are finding it so hard when we are good employers. We look after our people – and we offer good training. We have been advertising and advertising and every person we like seems to find it too hard to jump through agency hoops. Or the agencies won’t help them. Or the agencies tell them they cannot take the job for health reasons (prior injury). And the ones that desperately want the job, are silly enough to discuss their history of theft with us. Or their dislike of the institution that is having a job. Or they want huge money while doing a substandard job and causing damage we have to repair. Or they want to tell us all about how they have sued every employer they have had and everyone in the world owes them money. Or they lie about medical issues and cannot pass the physical the government require. And it baffles me. I can easily see why many are unemployed…..

I feel like people’s work ethic these days is so far removed from mine. My partners. My families. And I don’t understand it. I was brought up in a generation where we work for a living. You go to work and you give it your all and you get paid s wage for that. And no matter how you feel, you just get up and go. So even on my worst days, when I cannot face the world, I do it. I put on my happy face mask and I drag myself out of bed. Force in a coffee and chocolate and I do my job. Day in and day out. The only time I’m forced to take a day off is if I’m actually really ill. Like when I was hospitalised with Pneumonia. I did stay off work for a bit then. I had no choice!

But so many people think work is disposable. Or that they deserve more money than they do. I’m baffled by the people that demand a pay rise and go to the toilet to supposedly empty their bowels. 8 or more times a day. And then you check their online presence and notice that all of their commenting and posting coincides with bathroom visits. They call it multitasking. And get offended when I point out that social media isn’t what they are paid to do. And even more offended if you dare point out that they need to stop with that.

They can never figure out how I know either…..

I feel like I’m looking for a unicorn. Someone who loves work. Understands the balance between work and home life and who is willing to complete all tasks assigned to them to the best of their ability without breaking anything.

All I want is a break from work. I would like to be able to take my kids out on the weekend once a month. Not even every weekend. Because my kids know the sacrifice they and we make to give them a good life. But one weekend a month we would like to spend time with them. As a family. Without work butting in. Anyone got a unicorn going spare?

Maybe it would help my mental health and my stress levels.

Sometimes I just want the world to stop spinning. Even just for a few minutes so I can clear my head and find myself again.

The cathartic property of writing.

The cathartic property of writing.

I’ve spent the last week or so reliving parts of my life, that for so long have been buried in a deep place inside of me and to be quite frank with you, I just needed a breather.

While I started this blog, for the simple fact that some of my internal musings were driving me crazy, I allowed for the cathartic effect from getting those stories out.
What I didn’t allow for was the mayhem that’s ensuing in my brain right now.
I have this ‘stop the world I wanna get off’ kind of feeling.

There are so many stories in my head.
So much I want to write down.
But only so many hours in the day and I know I cannot devote my entire life to this right now as my normal life is in such complete chaos right now.
I’ve got a lot going on, and it seems so strange that the absolute need for me to start this, hit me when it did. Like I needed another thing on my to-do list? But here we are. Messy, disorganised, chaotic in blog also.
I began with the best intentions of trying to create some kind of timeline, but right now I actually need to press pause. Because I need to figure out which stories are worth sharing, which aren’t. Which affected me, but aren’t interesting enough – or if that is even a thing? Who am I writing this for? Me or readers who barely exist? My 3 fans?
Should I be thinking more of what they would want to read, or more of what I want to share?
Can someone learn something from anything I’m writing or has that point been lost in the blur of dredging up memories which have been silenced so long.

I’m not sleeping well, again.
My stress levels are rising as I try to get a handle on this. It’s feeling a little overwhelming.
For now though, I will try to keep going. I’ll try to push through the what if’s and the niggling voices of self-doubt and maybe.

I may for a while attempt to keep my posts shorter and more direct. Which may be easier given I have literally spilled a large chunk of my life over the internet already!