I was going to add a trigger warning to this post but what would it be? TW – God is an asshole? TW – Sick pedos not sick kids? TW – Dying animals and stupid men with beards? I gave up, but you have been warned. Anyone who has pets at home and adores them like my family does knows how heartbreaking it is when one of them gets ill or passes away. It doesn’t matter if they are a guinea pig, a cat, a dog or even a bin chicken, well it doesn’t matter to us. They are all beautiful and we love them madly. That is why is sucks ass that our beautiful cocker spaniel Juno is currently in hospital critically ill. We have had her for about eight years and she is loyal, sooky, loving and quite mental. A bit like us really. It all happened so quickly, one minute she was fine happily eating her favourite roast chook and the next minute she was vomiting blood and bleeding from her eyes. Now I love horror movies but this was not okay. Apparently, after some initial testing, she has an auto immune disease which unfortunately may be secondary to cancer, we are investigating further today or rather the vets are and I am sitting here anxiously waiting for their follow up call. It is a bloody rough lot isn’t it when those who seems so vulnerable get sick, like children and animals, and if anyone utters the inane sentence, ‘oh but things happen for a reason,’ I will politely throw a cow pat in their face. If I was to believe in a God that sits on a throne with a long white beard deciding who deserves to live or die (I don’t) I would be mighty pissed at him right now. I mean I have seen my fair share of death in my life, and I don’t mean just animals. I saw my mother ravaged by cancer and my father destroyed by dementia. Now come on, what sort of fucking god would wilfully inflict that on those he ‘created’. Now my Dad enjoyed way too many ‘cheeky’ beers in his time and my Mum was as warm as a frozen fish finger from the over frozen garage freezer, but they didn’t deserve that. No one does, except pedos, murderers and rapists right? And sick kids, forget it, that is the ultimate cruelty. The ultimate injustice. I believe in karma but I refuse to believe that some bad karma in a past life made a child sick in this life, or that there is some plan we just can’t see, what a load of toss, ‘But things happen for a reason…’ Shut the fuck up. Now I know I am mixing religions and belief systems here but that is my brain, it’s a fucking mess in here, but it’s all mine. I want to set some new Universal laws because there has to be some sort of levelling out of karma and dishing out of disease. Let’s keep our beautiful animals well, our children free from harm, our dysfunctional parents alive and send it to the worst of the worst. We don’t need death penalties, just a deal with the supposed ‘big man’ upstairs to pinky swear that when he is deciding who gets sick and dies, he remembers those who are the scum at the bottom of an outback toilet and gives it to them. Not to someone’s daughter, someone’s son, someone’s parent or someone’s puppy. I know this may sound harsh, but if anyone deserves to suffer, it’s that cluster fuck of vermin, isn’t it? Those who wilfully and happily inflict pain and suffering on others? I mean I would prefer it if they just weren’t horrendous arseholes, but they are. This God some folks believe in can learn a thing or two from Santa, the other mystical man with a long beard and a beer gut. Even he knows to keep a list of who is naughty and nice. It’s not that hard, I swear if God was a woman this shit wouldn’t happening, but that is another rant for another day. So, for fucks sake God, get it right. Peace.
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I spoke to a psychic medium the other day. I love me some woo-woo and having regular conversations with the dead. The medium told me I needed to get back to who I really am. Putting aside any scepticism for the psychic medium trade you may have, think about it. It makes sense, for me. See I am a mother, a single mother for that matter. I have spent the past fourteen plus years putting everyone first, my husband (now ex) my kids – still do, even my animals. Before I had kids, I was a carer for my mum and dad, so it has been a LONG bloody journey of being fourth or fifth in the pecking order. Somewhere along the way I forgot who the fuck I was, or rather I got lost in the shuffle, relegated to the back of the queue. Man, I used to be cool (in my own mind anyway) I used to love being up on stage, singing my heart out, I used to love travelling, I used to love flirting and dating and having a grand old time. I also used to love the way I looked, the way I lived, the way I partied, the way I connected. I was having so much fun. Then I had kids and got married. Now, don’t get me wrong, I bloody love my kids, (marriage not so much) I would fight Lucifer in a battle to protect them, I would climb Mt Everest to get them the food they love, I would turn into Mrs Doubtfire by the age of fifty to make sure their needs come first, this last one I actually did. Now I look in the mirror at this tired, overweight, achy slow version of me and wonder what the hell happened? And how do I move forward into my best life if I don’t stop and reclaim some of me back, move myself up the pecking order, maybe even to the number one spot for a while, just so I can find me again and sort my shit out. It sounds like such a privileged problem doesn’t it, losing oneself? And I guess it is. I have a roof over my head, my children are fed, clothed, supported and loved. Things could be worse. But when I was growing up, I didn’t envision a life like this. I didn’t envision being so tired all the time and struggling so much. I knew my brain was a bag of mixed nuts, but I know how to deal with that, mostly. But as for my life, I’m hoping it is not too late to change it, I do believe it is never too late to change things. Right? Tell me it isn’t. I wonder how many women fall down under the weight of solo parenting, two parent parenting, being a carer, a wife, a woman? Because let’s face it, even when you have a partner, it doesn’t mean they contribute. It doesn’t mean they cook dinners, make lunches, pick the kids up, drop the kids off, clean the house, do the washing, feed the animals, help with homework, read the kids stories, stay up all night when the kids are sick, do the grocery shopping, pay the bills and so on and so on…why do you think divorce rates are so high? Women have had enough. I had had enough. But I still have to parent, I still have do all, and be all for my kiddos. So how do I reclaim some of me back? I guess I have to be a little selfish, as mums we need to be ‘selfish’ but you know, it isn’t being selfish to care for oneself, to take little moments here and there to remember, to reconnect, to recalibrate. Because if we don’t, we won’t be able to do all the shit we have to do each day, or at the very least, not do it well. I am giving myself permission, and giving you permission (not that you need my approval) to take those moments, to put the movie on, to give them a screen, to send them to the neighbours, to get him to step up - so you have time to breathe, time to remember how fucking awesome you are. Because you are. Peace. I have bipolar disorder and it is my superpower. I didn’t know for sure I had Bipolar until I was in my 20’s, but when I got my diagnosis, everything made sense. I mean I grew up in the 80’s, no one paid any attention to mental health issues then, we just got on with it, so it was a relief for me to get some answers. Bipolar can make life tricky, exhausting and honestly horrid at times but it can also make life exciting, productive, thrilling and turbo charged. The trick is to find the balance, and by taking my meds, maintaining a healthy(ish) and keeping away from shit people and stressful situations I manage this. I don’t manage all the time, in fact right now my life is a bit of a cluster fuck but it is nothing I can’t resolve because I am a survivor and have been through worse and that is why having bipolar is my superpower. It has made me a warrior, it takes a lot to bring me down, if at all. So, I am ‘finding the balance’ once again. I’m pulling out the weeds. I have found in life that some people like to pick on the lowest hanging fruit. This is what I mean by shit people. I find as a person who suffers from a mood disorder and other mental illnesses, some people who have come into my life choose to blame me for their bad behaviour because I have bipolar. In their minds they acted the way they did because of me. Geez, now who needs therapy? It is an easy out, a gaslight, a low vibe, low energy, lazy thing to do. Let me give you a little context, I wanted to leave a relationship once, the person I was in the relationship with said that the only reason I wanted to leave was because of my bipolar. Wait what? It was because I liked change and so I shouldn’t leave, it was the wrong choice, didn’t I know this? It wasn’t because they were a gaslighting, manipulative, abusive rusty tool from the collective ‘tool’ shed. I admit, it threw me at first, because I am always hyper aware of the impact of my ‘behaviours’ but after I got over the self-doubt, confusion and guilt, all this narrative did was solidify my choice to leave the relationship because if you are prepared to manipulate like that, you will do anything. Another ex-partner chose to blame me for all the issues we had, despite the fact I was the only one deep in therapy and committed to working on myself. It was another way for them to justify continuing with their poor behaviour. They could sit on their high horse and say, ‘Look at her, she is crazy, that’s why everything went wrong.’ All my therapists and psychiatrists would and do disagree with you sir. Perhaps I am just drawn to low life’s who will sink to the mucky bottom of emotional manipulation? Perhaps it is because I carry the guilt of being unwell and knowing that anyone who gets involved with me, at some point or another will encounter me having an episode? Perhaps they think I am too stupid to know what they are doing? It makes me enjoy my own company greatly. It makes me stronger. But all of this leads to the next dilemma, when I do decide to venture out into the dating world again, if ever, when do I disclose my delightful laundry list of illnesses? Morally, it would be right from the beginning, wouldn’t it? But if that is one of the first things they know about me, will they be open enough to see that having bipolar is just one thing about me, I am also intelligent, fun, creative, compassionate, caring, loving, motivated, productive and so on, will everything I offer be continually seen through the lens of bipolar? Will I be once again be underestimated? Will the next person weaponize my Bipolar against me? It is exhausting just thinking about it. There are many reasons I don’t currently date, being a single mother with 100% care and being a wise old crone who can spot a red flag four miles away (my other superpower), but if I chose too, it would only take two seconds to Google me and see I have bipolar, so my work is done, my dilemma solved. I have found, men tend to not like being called out on their behaviour, (okay-not all men) and I just can’t help it sometimes – all the time. Not because I am perfect, or a judge or the ruler of the world but because I have tolerated SO much rubbish in my half a decade of life that I am bloody done, like a dog’s dinner. So dating… if someone decides they don’t want to get to know you because of your mental illness, then yes that is their prerogative, but what a shame it would be. There are so many amazing people in the world, contributing, thriving and just being awesome who also happen to have bipolar or any other of the mental illnesses and mood disorders in the world. I happily wear my bipolar superhero cape and because I don’t hide in shame, I will meet the right people at the right time, and the weeds will die away. I wish that for you too. Today has me thinking hard about grief. We have lost two beautiful people from the world over the past week, one at the beginning of his life and the other with many years behind her, both great losses. Of-course you know last week we lost the formidable, extraordinary warrior woman Sinead O’Connor, and today, the young and talented Angus Cloud from Euphoria. Both seem, if we believe what the media reports, to be weighed down heavy by a grief which eventually took them away.
Sinead losing her son eighteen months prior to her own life ending, he struggling with his own battles didn’t make it past seventeen. I can only imagine the intolerable pain losing a child would bring, I don’t know if I could survive that, Sinead did for eighteen months. But I imagine those months intolerable. Angus lost his father just weeks ago, the funeral just one week before he lost his own life. A few weeks living in the world without his best friend and father to decide that life without him was too much for him to bear. We don’t know exactly what happened yet, this is only speculation, but regardless the loss is immense. I get it. Grief can be a beast; it can be all consuming and overpowering. I have my own experience with loss and grief having lost both my parents by the time I was thirty-seven. Each death was excruciating, each time I didn’t know how to move forward. Even now at fifty-one, I wonder how to navigate this world alone, with no parent to call on for advice, for help, for money to fill the car, to watch the kids so I can work, to tell me I am doing a good job, to tell me to pull my head out of my arse when I am being self-indulgent. Just to be my parents, so I am not the grownup. I miss them. But for whatever reason, I made it through the grief, the loss and the pain. It wasn’t because I had a great support system around me, I didn’t. It wasn’t because I was a superhero, super strong or resilient. I was and am just ordinary. The thing is, in our lives, we will all experience grief, it is unavoidable, and as humans it is even worse because we know this. We know we will lose our parents, our children know they will lose us. Hopefully it works in that order, many times it doesn’t. The world was so cruel to Sinead, she struggled to exist in it because she didn’t fit into any of the boxes people kept trying to stuff her into. She tore up the picture of the Pope and was crucified yet she was right and now in death the world sends her accolades. What hypocrisy. What a pity the accolades weren’t sent while she was alive, living deep in grief. It wouldn’t have made the grief easier but maybe, just maybe she would have felt a little less alone. Angus was a star on the rise, an undoubtable talent, his performance in Euphoria was absolutely mesmerising. What a damn shame we will never see him grow, just like those before him like River Phoenix, Heath Ledger and even James Dean. We can’t look away, they steal our hearts and then they are gone. I hope they have found peace now, I hope their pain has ended but I bloody wish they were still here. I am selfish like that and I want more of them. The world needed more of them. But to anyone struggling under the weight of grief know that there are people who want more of you, we all want more of you. So stick around. Maybe that’s why I made it through grief, I wanted a little bit more of me too. |
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