Two smokes and half a packet of Pods
A broken full-length mirror
Capped off a seven-year-old's two hour tantrum
A pointless angry phone conversation with the ex
Another fucked up day is coming to an end
Which followed a fucked up night of little sleep
This week has past the halfway mark
It can only get better, can't it?
Note- This is a long piece so I'm splitting it in half. As always your comments are welcomed but in this case I may not respond to them. I felt compelled to write this now, I'm not sure why. It wasn't an easy write and may not be an easy read for some.
Read Part 1 first!
Note- This is a long piece so I'm splitting it in half. As always your comments are welcomed but in this case I may not respond to them. I felt compelled to write this now, I'm not sure why. It wasn't an easy write and may not be an easy read for some.
I've had a rather fucked in the head kind of day
Achieved little of what I set out to do
Too long thinking of something I cannot change
The last of those tears have fallen! no more
Stuffed around with attempted distractions
There are more photos in my "Sydney" gallery
More writing has been flowing, though not smoothly
Giving up is not always the easy way out!
My energy levels are still not where they should be
My concentration still lasts only short periods of time
I feel almost nothing, almost all the time, no major emotion
I knew to expect the headaches, dizziness and the shaking
I expected a change in how I felt, the irritability and snapping
Giving up my two big vices has left me almost empty inside
My mind has run, non-stop at a million miles a minute
Thoughts fragmented, scattered, relentlessly circling my head
Creativity lost, shoved down too deep and struggling to breath
When will I begin to feel like me for longer than a few minutes
About three months ago I shaved my head, for charity
Well actually my mother took the clippers and did it for me
When I say shaved it wasn't all bald and buffed to reflect the sun
My hair was about 10mm in length, which if you ask me, is shaved!
I've come to realise that I didn't think this through all that well
I'm lucky in that I own a lot of hats and several bandanas
In three months I've had about four weeks I've had hair I can manage!
I scare myself when I look in the mirror, I have a bad hair day every day!
The up-side, it's the first time in over ten years I've had my natural hair colour!
Drew usually spends a week or more with his father around Christmas time, 2003 was no different. He’d just finished his first year of school. His Dad picked him up after school on Friday, but on Sunday he came home for a few hours so that he could attend a friend’s birthday party. I took him to the party and he laughed and played and ran around with all the other children. He went back to his fathers in the afternoon with only three more sleeps ‘til Santa came.
“Hello,” I always answer the phone in a civil manner, not quite pleasant to him. I’m not a “bitter ex”; I just really don’t like him. Almost everything about him annoys me. I try to keep the contact at a minimum but of course we’ll always have to deal with each other where Drew is concerned. I limit my side of the conversations to Drew and anything to do with Drew only. I don’t see any need in discussing anything else, as much as he tries to at times.
“Hi, I’m just calling to ask if Drew is allergic to anything as far as medicine goes?”
“Why? But no, not as far as we know, he’s never really had to take all that much.” I answer this automatically, but think a father should know this.
“Oh ok, I just wanted to check because I’m allergic to penicillin and mum is about to take Drew to the doctor, he’s got stomach pains.” Came the reply in that monotone voice I’ve come to loath.
“Why aren’t you the one taking him? How long has he had the pains? Make sure you call me to let me know how he is when you get back.” This is the man I thought I loved at one time. He still lives with his parents and finds it hard to take responsibility for anything, including looking after his son.
“He wants Nan to go with him. He woke up at 4.30 this morning sick and upset. I gave him some Panadol and he went back to sleep. He’s still got the pains though. Will call you when they get back.”
“Ok, bye”
So I go back to my presents, wrapping and organizing them under the tree. I was not overly concerned as Mark didn’t seem to be, although I wished Drew was home so that I could be the one looking after him. I managed to get all of the Christmas presents wrapped and under the tree and had my lunch. A couple of hours passed with no return call from Mark, I began watching the clock and carrying the phone around with me waiting and willing it to ring. Finally it did.
“Hello”
“Hey, sorry I didn’t call earlier I forgot to when they got home and got sidetracked.” That voice takes only seconds before it gets on my nerves.
“Well how is he? What did the doctor say?” I really don’t care what sidetracked him or why he hasn’t called, only about Drew.
“He said it’s just some 24hour stomach bug, he gave him antibiotics.”
“Why has he given him antibiotics if it’s just a 24hr bug? What else did he say? What is the antibiotic called?” Mark and I have always had differing views on Doctors and medication. I go to the Doctor when necessary and I take medication when necessary, but I make absolutely certain it is. I don’t take a doctor’s word as gospel and I ask a lot of questions. Mark on the other hand had been known to go to his doctor purely to get a medical certificate, because he’d taken a “sickie” from work. He’d come home with the certificate and a two-week course of antibiotics, that he would proceed to take.
“I don’t know”
~Sigh~ “So where is Drew now and how is he feeling?” I wanted to scream at him, I think I did a little bit, you don’t just take antibiotics for a bug, there has to be more reason or don't take them, at least know why they're being taken.
“He’s laying on the lounge, I think he’s almost asleep. He’s not too bad”
“Ok then, ring me in the morning, or if he gets worse, and let me know how he is?”
“Yeah I will, see-ya”
Apparently Drew did seem to get worse that night, so much so that Mark (and his parents) decided it would be best to take him to the Emergency ward in the local Hospital. They sat there for three hours, in which time a nurse gave Drew some Panadol. On finding out that there would still be several hours to wait before being able to see a doctor, Mark decided to take Drew home. I only found this out in the weeks that followed and I was never told it directly.
Tuesday morning comes and goes and I haven’t heard from Mark. I presume that Drew is feeling better and all is fine. I try to call Mark several times, both at home and on the mobile, but I’m unable to catch him so I leave a message.
The phone rang at about 1 o’clock that afternoon.
“Hello”
“Hi Ted… It’s me.” He’s in the car on the mobile; I can hear the traffic and noise in the background.
“How’s Drew?”
“Well, umm don’t panic, but...” Anyone who has heard those words knows, as soon as you hear them the automatic response is to panic! “I’m on my way to the Children’s Hospital with him now,”
“What? Why? What’s wrong?” I’m sure he hears the panic in my voice; I can hear it clear as day. Tears slide down my face and my heart is beating too fast.
“I’ve just come from my doctor and he said to take him straight to hospital, he thinks it is appendicitis.”
I can’t really remember the rest of that conversation, I don’t think there was much more said. As soon as I hung up the phone I got organized to leave the house and arranged for my brother to give me a lift to the hospital.
I never want to walk into a room and see my son looking the way he did that day. He was so pale and barely had the energy to move at all. He already had the drip in his arm and they had confirmed appendicitis and started him on antibiotics. It was now a matter of waiting to get into surgery. Being two days before Christmas many doctors were on leave and the wait would be lengthy. Drew lay there with an expressionless look across his face until a shot of pain hit him, when his face would contort and quiet tears would roll down his cheeks. He simply had no energy to complain about the pain or anything else. His eyes alone showed the fear and pain he was in, I could only imagine.
He went into surgery after midnight that night. I waited in the small waiting room just outside recovery, with Mark and his parents. While Drew was in surgery Mark and his parents sat and chat about politicians, childcare and the lack of care in hospitals. The mundane and pointless chatter you find at a dinner party, not exactly what I was in the mood for at that point. An hour passed slowly and no one came to tell us the surgery was over, it was meant to be relatively quick and routine.
When the doctor did finally come out to us, a little after 2am, he informed us we were extremely lucky and our Little boy was fine. Drew’s appendix had burst, he was lucky to be alive, and he would have been in immense pain. They’d had to “clean it out” quite a lot and he needed to be drip fed antibiotics for about a week.
*I’ve changed the name for obvious reasons.
© 2005
When I was 8-years-old my father married my stepmother. He had met her about two years before, late one night at a truck stop on the Highway down the coast. She was returning home from Sydney with her dog, Bluedog, and had stopped for a “cuppa” and to give the dog a break. She let the dog wander while she was inside, as she had many times before. A man soon came in and asked, “Did anyone used to own a blue dog?” My Dad was on his way back to his mothers and had run over the dog, he thought he’d killed it. Well the dog had run off and Dad spent the next few hours helping to find it and the rest, as they say, is history. Within a year of their marriage my stepmother had my first younger sister, J. Five days short of two years later I had another younger sister, L.
The electricity lines don’t make it out from town to their place. Their power is provided by a group of twelve-volt batteries, which are recharged by the generator. The generator also provides 240V power while it is on, for such things as the computer and washing machine. The television only receives reception from two stations, although a neighbour across the river had pay TV for a while. There is no inside “flush” toilet, that’s a small building outside, built on a concrete slab, over quite a large pit. The river provides the household water supply, after drinking this for over a year I was unable to drink City water at all for years. The house itself is built of wood and is almost round in shape. There is only one real wall inside, between the kitchen and bathroom. At the centre of the house is a fireplace built of river rocks and the room sort of flows around it. A curtain at the entrance to the bathroom provides the only inside door. A loft upstairs is the main bedroom. L sleeps downstairs in a bedroom that furniture provides most of the walls to. J has her own room by way of a caravan just out the front of the house. The house, which was built for one, has managed to accommodate four on a permanent basis and at times even more people. For the last fifteen, or more, years there has been talk of extensions being built, the last couple of years small progress has been made. All of these factors are what give the house and lifestyle character and appeal. All of these factors are also what give visiting “city folk” such a culture shock.
I consider myself to be a city girl, but growing up with this beautiful escape I consider myself very fortunate. Summer holidays with Dad were always enjoyable as a child. Waking up each morning to the sounds of kookaburras laughing and taking only a few minutes to walk to the riverbank. Standing on the edge of the river in the sand and being able to clearly see the rocks and sand on the bottom, even where the water was over six or seven foot deep. Then diving into the water and swimming over to the mostly submerged rock formation, which serves as a diving block. Hours upon hours could be spent at the river, swimming, throwing rocks across the top of the water or simply watching nature. Fish, eels and snakes were not an uncommon sight while swimming. Wallabies could sometimes be seen on the far side of the river heading to the rapids where they would have a drink. I would occasionally set my alarm to wake before sunrise and walk to the river, just down stream from our swimming hole, and sit and watch as the platypus went about its morning routine.
I lived with my father for about eighteen months as a teenager. It didn’t work out for many reasons, not the least of which was that I was rather difficult at that time. I would catch the bus to school each morning, I was first on because it only came out that far. The morning driver and I did not get along well, on several occasions I was made to sit in the front seat, very uncool. The return bus trip in the afternoon was always much more fun. The driver was an older gentleman with a huge heart, and a brilliant smile. He would at times stop at the little corner shop just out of town for those of us who wanted to buy afternoon tea. By the halfway point of the trip there would only be a handful of kids left on the bus, sometimes less. I would lay on the seat, with my legs lying across the aisle to the opposite seat, watching the treetops as they passed by. After a while of doing this I learnt to tell exactly where I was and how soon I’d be home just by looking at those treetops. If I was the only kid left on the bus I would sit right in front of the windshield on the dash I guess it’s called, facing the back of the bus, and talk to the driver while I had a smoke.
These days I get to Dad’s only a couple of times a year. It still holds a lot of appeal, but for different reasons. Drew (Little boy) and I spend some of the school holidays down there. It is great to see Drew loving it as much as I do, although he has as much trouble with the traveling as I do too. We’ve caught a bus on several occasions, six hours is more than enough to make us both feel ill, thankfully he’s only thrown up once on the bus. Other times we catch the train and meet Dad halfway, not quite as much chance of the travel-sickness that way as the time is broken up.
My Dad gave Drew his first fishing rod and helped him try to catch his first fish, they had to settle for an eel. The girls have taken Drew on countless swims and bush walks and he never loses interest, although they almost lost him once. He now knows to never leave the path and that if you get lost you simply stay where you are until someone finds you.
© 2005
There was a time,not long ago, that I would think of you and smile
Now I think of you and tears well in my eyes and pain throbs within
There was a time, not long ago, that you had such a calming effect on me
Now the mere thought of you produces anger and hurt among sadness and fear
I'm angry and disappointed in myself that you have such an influence still
Of course I still care, I want you to be a part, but obviously you're not
All this power is in your hands, yet you need not even use it for it to twist me
As the days pass by and no words are spoken the knife is thrust deeper
Words of old silently surround me to reveal the emptiness of which they're made
For how long...
My life is being lived and ruled in five-minute increments
For fourteen years these five-minute spaces have been filled
I have had one constant for all those years, I took it away
When I stress or when I relax, it's no longer there!
When I'm angry, upset or happy, it's no longer there!
When I chat to someone or I'm on the phone, it's not there!
When I rise each morning or finish a meal, it's not there!
When I finish a task or procrastinate over another, it's not there!
Five-minutes have passed while I type this, I may relax for a while!
Unable to concentrate properly still
Had an entry in mind, but it vanished
So instead I had an all about me moment
A first attempt at something new
Originalism inspired my own Haiku
*** *** ***
Therapy of sorts
Thought emotions, words chosen
Surviving by blog
There has been an obvious shift take place with my friendships
This change took several months to complete and be acknowledged
For four years I had one friend I always knew was there, my "best friend"
He knew everything there was to know about my life, as I did about his
I never imagined anything could or would be allowed to come between us
We only had to ask for help and it would be given, no questions, no shame
We could enjoy each other completely, without judgement or fear
It hurts to know that all of this has changed! I no longer know anything!
But every night is followed by the dawn and this change has had a positive
Within the past year a new friendship has been formed and has thrived
I know that I can count on this new friend, he's always there, my "best friend"
He has become the one I think of first to share good news with
He has become the one I call when I just need another honest point of view
We are able to share anything, without judgement, we listen and care
My friendships are always important to me, I cherish each and every one.
I only hope that I have as much to offer in return for what I've been lucky to receive!
I've been sitting here for a while now
Thoughts racing through my mind in various directions
Yet nothing is jumping out at me, nothing is flowing
To explain what my mind is like at the moment, almost impossible
It is not unexpected, it has been avoided for so long, I knew it would
I don't understand, there is no logic but I have no doubt of the cause
Thoughts incomplete, frantic and fragmented, erratic and continuous
Deprived of two things, one completely and the other mostly
I can make no sense, can not slow my thoughts long enough
Perhaps I will hide once again, why am I doing this now anyway
The words unable to flow, all that I want to say remains where it has been
I don't like heights!
I never have liked them and I don't see it ever really changing!
I don't like standing on a chair to change a lightbulb, but I do
I don't like travelling down narrow, winding roads with a drop on one side,
A solid wall of rock on the other, but I do (half my family live on such a road)
I don't like standing on escalators that are tall and steep (eg. Town Hall, Sydneysiders)
I don't like going in cable cars, like at the zoo, although Katoomba is much worse!
I don't like any of these things because I don't like heights, but I do them all!
I would (most likely) never jump out of a plane, bungee jump or climb the Harbour Bridge!
So I'm not exactly sure why I suggested we go up the Pylon yesterday with my girlfriend
I'd never actually walked on or across the bridge before either, I thought I'd be fine!
Usually as long as things are enclosed and I feel safe I don't freak out too much!
We get on the bridge and I'm fine, as hundreds of cars, buses and trains pass us by, until
We really get on the bridge and the solid wall beside us is replaced with steel frame.
My heartrate triples, my body tenses, my legs begin to tremble and my head feels very light!
I have Little boy on one side, girlfriend on the other, both pairs of eyes on me, laughing!
My son finds it quite amusing that Mum is afraid of heights! He's "not scared at all"!
I figure the Pylon will be better, it's only 200 steps within the tall granite walls.
We begin the climb! We reach the first landing area and I wonder what the hell I'm doing!
We reach the top and I'm in a cold sweat, my fists are clenched and my legs are still trembling!
The view is sensational of course and with a few deep breaths I manage to get out the camera.
My hands were still shaking too much, so girlfriend took a few shots before handing it back
But, I did it! I read that the lookout was 89m above sea level, and the bridge had 6million rivets!
It felt like 1000m high and I declined to buy a rivet in the giftshop for $20!
My pain threshold is very low, always has been, probably always will be
Until I was pregnant with Little boy I'd never even been in hospital
Never a broken bone, never a rush to the emergency room
Since then I've given birth (the epitome of pain) and had a broken toe
I try very hard not to inflict any kind of pain on myself, I'm sure we all do
Stubbing my toe results in a long barrage of cursing and involuntary tears
Last week, busily cooking dinner I was responsible for self inflicted pain
The rarely used microwave was used, and my common sense was not
Resulting in perfectly cooked honey carrots, and slightly overcooked finger
The barrage of cursing limited to mumbles, grunts and groans for Little boys' sake
I ran it under the icy cold water for at least 10minutes, blah blah blah
Now a whole week later, changing the dressing this morning I almost passed out!
Old dressing off, pain registers, break out in cold sweat and sway on my feet
It is now I realise I should have got Little boy to school first!
I sit down and now have the horrible feeling I'm going to throw up
Little boy is worriedly watching me, as I attempt to compose myself
Eventually the nausea passes, the sweats stop and my vision clears
I take the opportunity to re-dress my finger and take a deep breath
Now you may ask why I'm telling you all this in such a long post
Simple, because it fucking hurts and I'm a bloody whinging wimp!
As most would be aware, almost all my friends are male
I've found men easier to get along with, I don't understand women!
But there is an exception to every rule!
I'm catching up with a girlfriend in the city later this week
We went to high school together, only for about 18 months
And for most of the last 10 years have lived in different states!
She is the only person I have regular contact with from school
She is also the only female I really consider a friend!
I'm looking forward to catching up properly, as is Little boy
I'm not even really sure why it is we continue to get along
We have completely different lifestyles and little in common
We do both tell it how it is, and respect that in each other
I can't remember ever having a fight with her, about anything!
And although we haven't always had a lot of contact, nothing changes
Perhaps the reason we are such good friends still is that we live so far apart
After several years we are well overdue for a day spent catching up
I'm grateful to have her friendship and know it will be a constant.
I hung up the phone from Sam* with my mind a blank. She offered to pick it up on her way home and for me to meet her at her place. I had been putting this off for well over a week, hoping the denial would work magic. With an hour left before I could leave work I set about keeping busy. There were invoices and picking slips to be done. The intermittent phone calls, customers placing orders or complaining some stock hadn’t been with their delivery. The usual goings on of the office, just like any other day. Concentrating on work my mind could rest for a little while. This wasn’t going to end like any other day.
I sat down on the floor in the overcrowded lounge room, eyes fixed on the little white stick in front of me. For two minutes my mind was completely blank. Sam was beside me talking animatedly with her mother, Angie, but I didn’t hear a word. I was in their lounge room, where I had been many times before. The TV was on as the news of the day flickered across the screen. Sam and her mother were sat on the well-worn lounge as I sat on the other side of the coffee table. The rest of the kids were in their rooms and Lee, Angie’s husband, was on his way home from work. For two long weeks I’d had constant thoughts racing through my mind. These two minutes not only felt longer than those weeks but it was also the only time I can remember not having a single thought. My eyes widened as the beginning of a blue line appeared on the little white stick. I reached for the box to read the instructions for what must have been the fifteenth time, one line for negative, two for positive!
“Oh my god” I heard the words before I realized they had come from my own lips. All at once the room came back to life. “One man is in hospital and another has died in an accident just south of Sydney today” came from the newsreader on the TV. I heard the sound of a bus pulling up just down the street to let off its passengers on their way home from another normal day of work. This was certainly not a normal day. A dog barked, it sounded like the little terrier from three doors down. Sam and Angie had both stopped talking and were looking at me expectantly. “Well?” Angie spoke first. I could feel tears welling behind my eyes and hundreds of thoughts all fought within my head for my immediate attention. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came. Sam leaned across the coffee table to see for herself. “Oh shit, it’s positive!” She spoke the words that I had not been able to.
There I was, only a handful of months past my eighteenth birthday and I was pregnant. Mark already knew that I was “late”, but how would he take this confirmation? I’d met him only about three months earlier. Sam’s sister had introduced us when a group of us had gone out to celebrate her eighteenth birthday and she’d told me to “stay away” from him. That night I had danced with a dozen guys, but it was Mark I had ended up leaving with. We’d been together since then but neither of us thought it was forever, until now. What if Mark wanted me to have an abortion? What if he didn’t want me to have an abortion? What if he just didn’t want a part of the decision at all? We’d spoken about the obvious possibility of me being pregnant several times in the last two weeks, but neither of us really wanted to believe it would be true.
“Are you ok?” Angie was now sitting on the armchair closest to me when she said this. I looked up at her and then across to Sam. The floodgates opened at that moment, the tears, that until now I had only cried when I was alone, were streaming down my face. The denial I had been trying to live in was now shattered beyond repair. Was I ok, my world had just changed forever when those two lines appeared; I didn’t know if I was “ok”. No matter what, I would never be the same! What would my family say? Would it be a girl or a boy? What would Mark’s family say? Will I have a difficult pregnancy? What would my boss say? Will I be able to cope with the birth? Would I still have a job? Am I even capable of being a mother? Yes, I am capable. It was the only question I had the answer to.
I looked back up at Sam and Angie; they were looking at each other with the beginnings of a smile on both of their faces. My tears gradually slowed and a smile crossed my lips as well. I was terrified, but I was going to be a mum!
* All names have been changed for the obvious privacy reasons.
© 2005
