When I was a wee lass, both my parents worked full time. I was a latchkey kid through and through. I got myself to and from school, went without lunch at school if I didn’t make it, hung out at home alone until a parent finished work or came home from the pub, and got up to so much trouble because I basically wasn’t parented or supervised. That was the 80s. Bloody hell is it different these days. Now I am a single mum, I have two kids, one of whom is neurodiverse and home-schooling. I don’t remember the last time I had a day off, a day without financial, emotional and physical stress or a day I had family around to help out. Well let’s be honest, I’ve never had that. Both my parents passed before my kids were born. My dad was of the ‘Greatest Generation’ my mother of the ‘Silent Generation’. I’m not exactly sure what that all means but I can say these Pre Boomer parents, their values, their learned parenting was wildly different to the helicopter parenting of today but then again it was a different world then. And no, I’m not THAT old, crikey, I was adopted. I’m not sure which I prefer, I loved so much about growing up when I did. As I age, I sit more in a nostalgic haze, blissfully wishing those days back. I wish my kids had some of that magic. Pre-screens, phones, Tik Tok… I feel that we as parents have to be much more on guard now. Are there more predators or are we just taking more notice now? Is bullying worse or are we just talking about it more now? Are kids suffering more from mental health issues or are we more open about it now? I have my own theories, based on my lived experience but what do you think? It is a heavy burden, parenting these days. Seeing the world cave in on itself, beat itself up over and over. We humans are a stupid bunch. What are we leaving for our kids? Is it selfish to have brought them into this world? Sometimes I think it is. But maybe, I should sit more in hope, hope that these kids will carry the torch and when all the dickheads die, will start fixing this planet up again. Out with the old in with the new. I’m all for it, after all they cannot do any worse than we have been doing. I’m going to find some leg warmers, put on Xanadu and escape for a while now. I suggest you do the same. Peace.
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Children ruined my Career There I said it, they killed it dead in its tracks. I agree wholeheartedly with Lily Allen. In case you missed it, she recently said in an interview, "I never really had a strategy when it comes to career, but yes, my children ruined my career. I love them and they complete me, but in terms of pop-stardom, they totally ruined it.” Now I don’t have Lily Allen’s fame, money, celebrity status or David Harbour as a husband, but I am also a singer, actor, blah blah blah. Or I was until I had my kids. Once they came along, any resemblance of a creative career for me went by the wayside. Having a neurodiverse son was part of it, but let’s face it, when it comes to kids and domestic duties, the majority if not all of the responsibility falls on the woman most of the time. It’s not right, it's not fair, in fact it’s a load of toss but it is how it is. It was and is difficult for me to see the world move on, to see careers take off, or at least maintain a status quo while mine is laying in a ditch by the M4 choking on exhaust fumes, but like Lily Allen, I made a choice. As she said, “Some people choose their career over their children and that’s their prerogative, but my parents were quite absent when I was a kid. I feel that really left some nasty scars that I’m not willing to repeat on mine. I chose stepping back and concentrating on them and I’m glad I’ve done that.” Same here Lily, same here. I did choose to put my kids first and still do, but to be brutally honest, I also don’t have a choice. I have no family to help me and have 100% care of my kids, so when the fuck would I have time to get out there and perform? I could have hired babysitter’s, but my neurodiverse son wouldn’t have coped with that. I could have done it anyway, but as I said, I put them first. I was a latchkey kid, born in the 70s and a teenager in the 80s, there are so many things I love about the 80’s but the absence of parenting was not one of them, there are many things I did, or that I experienced that I wish had not happened, so I chose to do things very differently. Now I don’t think I deserve a medal for doing so, I applaud women who can make strides in their careers (yeah I’m jealous too) and manage a family but that simply wasn’t the case for me. Having a messy brain doesn’t help, I get overwhelmed easily, so trying to juggle too much just means I shut down and sit in paralysis and that sucks. There is only so much I can handle on my own. However, my kids are getting older, (imagine that!) the youngest twelve now, so slowly I will be able to reclaim some time for my creative work and the blessing is, that the bond I have with my kids, the connection, the memories, the love is so bloody strong, I know I am lucky as fuck. So, here’s to women who can ‘have it all’ I don’t know how you do it! I’ll just sit here with my tea thinking Lily Allen and I are friends and that David Harbour has a nice single brother… 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. I used to love constant change, I found it thrilling and exciting. I sought it out. Who wants to be boring I’d think, not me! I’d blame it on my star sigh, I’m a Gemini, we are a feisty lot, creative and needing lots of stimulation, we have two sides, which one will I be today? Partners would blame my love of change on my bipolar, ‘You only want to break up because you’re bipolar,’ or ‘Everything is your fault because of your brain.’ Steady on mate, I don’t see your degree, nor your hours and hours spent in therapy picking apart said brain. I break up with you because you are not good for me, I make decisions and mistakes because I am human, just like you, but at least I am making them. It's easy to sit on that high horse and throw little stones, you can’t even be bothered to pick up the rocks, too much effort, you’re lazy like that. There is no one more critical of me than me. As I said I used to love and crave change, I can be hard to keep up with if you’re the wrong type. In many ways I still do, but I have learnt to find value in the consistency that comes with certain phases of life. When you are a single parent, or perhaps just a parent in general? there isn’t a huge amount of wiggle room with the daily ins and outs. You have to clean the house, you have to feed the kids, you have to make some money, you have to get kids to school and to appointments, to bed, you have to pay all the bills, do all the shopping, be everything because you are on your own… there is a lot of ‘same.’ I am in the ‘same’ phase now. My kids need consistency, they need to feel safe and steady, so this ship I am steering, I am diverting away from the icebergs because we don’t need to go down like the ill-fated Titanic. RIP. I’m pushing for routines, early bedtimes, better meals, quiet time, rest, conversations, I’m listening hard because they deserve to be heard. This is my Mother phase, I am motherless, so I am navigating this without a map. My Maiden phase is now long behind me, it was fun for a time. Some days I feel more like I am in my Crone phase, age wise I am getting close, or perhaps I just wish I was because I am weary. I wish to sleep with the moon and rise with the sun, to drink tea in my garden without care, to have completely, once and for all let go of all those who trouble me, knowing I have done my time and owe no one. To sit in the sun with my eyes closed, to let my stomach out, that stomach bloated from childbirth and age. To turn grey gracefully, although they are yet to appear, to move slower because I have the time. To cackle delightfully because I am considered the mad village witch, that would please me. To write my spooky stories and sing my spooky songs, because it’s what I love to do. To be at peace knowing my kids are happy and healthy human beings because of the work I put in. To know that every sacrifice I made was bloody worth it, because they are worth it. I look forward to the Crone. But I am Mother right now and always will be of course, although my role will reduce. So, I settle in, being present in this moment because before long it will pass. I know change will come, when it is time, but not yet. I pull on the reins and ask my horses to wait a little longer. I don’t want to miss a minute. That itching under my skin to change is still there, it always is. But we have a deal. Change needs to take a time out for a while so I can parent the way I want to parent. It is mostly okay with that because it understands. We as humans, move through phases in life and some are harder than others, some feel like you won’t make it through but we do, mostly. As we age the phases become a little scarier, because as a species we are too aware of our mortality. But we can look at that awareness as a gift, we can savour the moments, the phases, embrace them all before our time runs out. Hopefully we have a good few years before it does. So for now, the Mother continues on, the Crone lies in wait and I smile my crooked smile because I know I am blessed. Perhaps you’ll see me years from now, I’ll be the one riding the night sky on my broom, cackling away, sprinkling magic dust over you all. Peace. I’ve been a single parent for a big chunk of time now. I have chosen to make certain 'sacrifices' or 'decisions' because I wanted to put my kids first. In some ways, this was my only option having a neuro-diverse kiddo but one I do not regret regardless. Single parent life has many ups and downs, financially it is tough, but all single parents know this right? I don’t really have much of a life outside kids, but I do grab moments here and there to do things I love like music and writing which completely float my boat, and I am so fucking happy that my kids and I are super close, that is my reward for it all. Being the primary (only) carer means I make all the calls, all the decisions, sometimes I get it super fucking right and sometimes super fucking ‘not so’ right, but at least I am there doing my best to not fuck these kids up too much, because let’s face it, all parents fuck their kids up to some extent, some more than others. At least we are there, doing it all, being bloody superheroes. I carry the weight of the good and the bad, the happy and the sad and I wouldn’t trade it for the world BECAUSE when I am old and pooping my pants, these kids will feel indebted to pay me back for all the years. No, I’m kidding, sort of, I wouldn’t trade it because they are fucking awesome and I adore them and life is about connecting, learning and growing. Life with them is the joy of a family bond I never had, it is healing in so many ways, too many to count. They have taught me that it isn’t ‘all about me,’ that I am not the centre of the universe, they don’t owe me shit, my ego has rightfully copped a walloping. I chose to have them, to love them, to nurture them, to help them grow into reasonably well functioning adults and will help them bounce back after they fuck up, as they will and do regularly. I’ve been playing with tarot cards of late, another one of my loves, and there is one card that kept jumping out at me over and over one day, it was the Strength card. How apt. I’ve got it, you’ve got it. We can do the hard things. So I raise my glass to all those who stayed, who put in the work, who love and cherish, who keep picking themselves up off the floor after another takedown, who keep going regardless of it all. I fucking salute you. Peace. Being an adult was hard this week, toffee hard, crack your teeth and pull out your crowns hard. But as always, I chew on, whacking a bit of super glue in to hold it all together. Firstly, we had Mother’s Day and I’m not a fan of Mother’s Day. I’m a single mumma, so there isn’t much fan-fare, I did get the book I asked for from my youngest which was sweet, but the actual day was the same as every other. It’s a bit like New Year’s Eve for me, I feel the pressure to ‘have a good day’ to be indulged, taken care of, spoilt even. But that is not what happens for most single mums. We still have to do all the things, no one else is going to cook, clean, manage the pets, manage the stupid fucking laundry or deal with any other ‘chore’ that needs doing and half the time we buy our own presents from the school Mother’s Day stall. The other reason I dislike Mother’s Day is that my mother died on Mother’s Day 23 years ago. She had the Big C, I say it was big because it was all consuming, it consumed her body, her happiness and in the end her life. Cancer is a motherfucker, let’s be clear. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, or maybe… well no not even then, because I believe in karma and I hope I am a good person. I also have healthy dose of medical anxiety, that means basically I think everything is going to kill me. As I get older the chances of this happening increases, in my opinion anyway. I’m needing tests for things I had never thought about when I was younger, back when we were all invincible. I didn’t think about colonoscopies and mammograms, skin checks, eye tests, hearing tests and pap smears. I was blessed with good health, not good mental health, let’s be honest, that’s dodgy as shit, but my body worked okay. These day’s my body breaking down, falling apart, needing more servicing than ever, but I am still here, I am lucky. Speaking of needing a service, my car overheated this week, my radiator had died, so I got that fixed. Then once I got my car back and went on my merry way, my car started shaking like it had been possessed by a wicked car demon and smelt like it was burning the souls of car now passed. I got home safely and had the NRMA tow it back to the mechanics and of course they found nothing wrong with it, so said demon had moved on - hopefully to a Tesla. I have decided one day I would like to replace my car with a Peugeot. My Dad drove a Peugeot when I was a kid, back when our butts stuck to the plastic seat covers and we didn't have seat belts. I loved that car and was crushed when he sold it cheaply to a neighbourhood kid and replaced it with an old BMW. Having a Peugeot of my own will allow me to indulge myself in some nostalgia from my youth, minus the sticky seats and with more safety options, hopefully it won’t be open to possessions either. (PS Peugeot – hit me up) As I said being an adult was hard this week, besides Mother’s Day kind of sucking, missing my own mum and car demons, I have had several appointments with psychologists and psychiatrists, and not even for me, but as the parent of the child requiring these professionals and I was given homework. I don’t do well with homework. I get the logic behind the assignment I was given to work on with my child, but it just piled another layer of stress on me and when I asked for clarity on the homework I was told to, ‘Just do what I said.’ Righto, fucking brilliant that is. Our homework will be checked tomorrow at our next appointment, I hope I got at least 60%... but honestly, don’t give tired, overwhelmed single mum’s homework. I am also trying to sort my health out and have a zoom call in an hour with a potential coach that might be able to help me get on track, but that probably means more homework right? I would really like to tame the medical anxiety beast by at the very least looking after myself a bit better. You see, I don’t look after myself. I haven’t put myself first in decades, I still can’t really, but I can do better than I am. Physically I’m twice the woman I used to be but inside I feel like half… I have to fix this, sort this mess out. I can talk about getting healthy until the cows come home but they never come home. So I am ringing the cow bell and calling them in. I hope your week has been kinder, I hope Mother's Day was nice to you or if it sucked like mine, you have support. Let see what next week brings? Peace Did you miss me? Huh? You didn't notice I was gone. Never mind, here I am. Back, refreshed, newly medicated and ready to dive in. A lot has happened in the years since I was last here, (No shit Sherlock - you think you're the only one with stuff?) Seriously though, how have you all been? I have been busy starting my son off in high school, juggling all the appointments and business that comes with having a neuro-diverse kiddo and supporting my daughter she she enters her final year in primary school. I restarted my garden for the nine hundredth time, got a new deck built so I can sit with my tea admiring the veggies growing ferociously, while dodging the branches the cockatoos hurl at me from the tree above. I have been in the studio recording several new music projects, all of which excites the fuck out of me. Can't wait to send that shit out into the world. What else? I got a new psychiatrist. Now that is exciting. New psych, new diagnosis, new meds, new me. Bloody Brilliant. And lots of writing, always lots of writing. Oh and I turned 50! Not even sure how I got here so quickly. Today is a miserable day here, even though it's summer, it is foggy, rainy and shit but I love it like this. The world quietens down for me on days like this, there is less business. Although I do have to go get some food, unless my son wants cat biscuits in his lunch tomorrow. My daughter is on camp, her first big camp. She is off snorkelling, bloody proud of her, she's an anxious kid so it was a big step going to camp. I'm hoping 2023 is a good year for us all, it's already the end of February, time keeps moving too fast for me. I'm hoping I have another 30/40 years to get all the shit done I want to do. I better get moving. Let me know what you're up to? Anyway, thanks for reading, thanks for being here, I'll be around a lot more now. Elizabeth By the way, I want to get Quails, anyone have Quails? any tips? I have been fumbling around in the darkness for over month now, maybe two. I’ve lost count. I am trying to be patient, waiting for the sun to peek through and lighten things up and yesterday I had a glimpse. The day was warm, the sun was out, I sat beneath it soaking up the rays whilst reading Sarah Wilson’s new book, ‘This One Wild and Precious Life.’ It lifted me up and stoked my curiosity, which made me feel a little better about my world. In my mind, I trekked with her, sat in the warm pubs eating, drinking and chatting to strangers. I would love to do that right now, but the world is closed. I am so grateful that Sarah wrote about her bipolar and anxiety in her book, ‘first, we make the beast beautiful,’ and will return to that one after this. She is a wonderful writer, nomad and I find her work so inspiring. I am thankful for her massive contribution to destigmatising mental illness. Back to my day, eventually the sun went down, my daughter put away her Harry Potter book and I put away mine and the darkness returned. It lurks and swallows you up. That is until the mania comes, or with Bipolar 2 ‘hypomania.’ So what do I do? I drink my coffee, write my words, do some housework, read books, play with the animals, love and nurture my kids and reach out to friends. My instinct is to go further inward but I know that I need to reach out. I need to keep moving so the darkness doesn’t close me in completely. It is a bastard. Those of you who feel this, you are not alone. I’m listening. Dear Men
How are you going? It’s been pretty stressful lately hasn’t it? I haven’t been coping so well. I just thought I’d check in with you because I’ve noticed you’re not coping so well either. The world is pretty fucked up right now and people have lost their livelihoods and worse, their lives. We are all trying to figure things out. I know you’re feeling it too Men. I also know most of you won’t admit it. There is a lot of pressure on you growing up to behave a certain way. You can’t grow up hearing things like, ‘Be a man,’ ‘grow some balls,’ and ‘boys don’t cry,’ and not have that shit totally ingrained in your brain. Where does that leave you? In a lot of cases unable to admit or accept that you might need some help, to know that it is ok to say you are not coping and to get some professional support. You soldier on, you have a drink, you scream at other drivers, you tailgate, you terrorise your spouse, your children, you punch walls, you punch women, you kill women and sometimes yourselves. Ok let’s back up a second, I know ‘not all men’ but let’s be honest, it’s a fucking lot of you isn’t it? When you suppress your sadness, it turns to anger, when you suppress your anger it turns to rage, when you try and suppress… no wait, you can’t. You wear it like a badge of honour, you’re the tough guy and everyone else is wrong. Chests puffing up, fists clenched and spit flying from your mouths as you snarl at your target. I have been in therapy on and off for almost all of my adult life, I have taken medication on and off for most of my adult life. I read and educate myself and talk to others and reach out for support when I need it and offer it in return. I have been in relationships where counselling has been rejected because, ‘we don’t need it’ or rather ‘he doesn’t need it’. The men who don’t need counselling: I have seen them go into rages and frighten the shit out of their children only to apologise later… until the next time. This is abuse. Your children will remember it. I have seen them call women crazy, hysterical, insane, unfit mothers and sluts, in order to manipulate the courts into giving them what they want. I have seen them lie about their earnings so they can avoid paying child support. I have seen them punch other men over parking spots. I have seen them tailgate, chase, threaten, intimidate other drivers because they don’t like how they drive. I have seen countless women flee their homes with their children and the clothes on their back to seek shelter in refuges because they know the next punch might be fatal. I have been gas lit, manipulated, controlled, hit and abused. By men. But still, you don’t need counselling. Destroy the Joint counts the number of women killed in Australia by the men in their lives, the number keeps going up and up. It’s a national emergency but it’s just women right? So nothing is done. ‘She drove him to it,’ ‘She wore the wrong clothes,’ ‘She was asking for it,’ ‘No doesn’t mean no,’ ‘She pushed him first,’ ‘She should have kept her mouth shut,’ ‘If I can’t have her no one can,’ ‘She can’t have the kids either, no one can.’ Men, if this pisses you off and you’re mad at me you need to step back and think about it. How do your mates talk about women? How do they talk about their exes? Is she a ‘psycho bitch?’ I’ll bet he says she is. She isn’t. It is time for you to sort your motherfucking shit out. Go to the counsellor, get a mental health care plan, take medication if you need it. Talk to your mates. Make it ok to have feelings. It isn’t weak. It takes courage to admit you have a problem and you will gain nothing but respect from the worthy people in your life when you step up and say, ‘I need help.’ Your children don’t want to be afraid of you. They need to feel safe. Your spouse deserves to be treated with respect and to not be killed. If you can’t drive without going into a rage. Sort that shit out and don’t have the kids in the car with you until you do. In fact don’t drive until you get your act together. Because you might kill someone. Treat your mother with respect, treat your ex with respect. Even if you dislike each other, don’t say that shit in front of your kids. Your children are watching. You are modelling for your son how to treat women; you are modelling for your daughter how she should expect to be treated. Step up and do your damn job properly. Stop the tantrums, stop being immature. Grow the fuck up and that’s means being accountable for your emotions. Let me clarify: It is never ok to: Manipulate, gaslight, abuse, threaten, intimidate, assault, kill anyone ever. Have tantrums, frighten women and children, be aggressive and controlling. Especially not your kids and not the women in your life. It is ok too: Respect, nurture, them and yourself. To admit you need help and to get it. It’s pretty straight forward stuff. Hold yourself and your mates accountable. Do you get it? So, I ask again. How are you going? Do you need some help? |
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