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I have always considered myself as a resilient, stoic individual. Give me a day or two and I bounce back from most things, but on Friday I just found that impossible. The alarm went off at the usual time to rise for the school day, and all I could do was weep into my pillow. I knew that I couldn’t trust myself to drive the 40 minute drive to the school. Mr FD offered support, offered to drive me to and fro, but his words just made me weep more. I could not console myself, nor have anyone console me.

I knew I needed help and so Mr FD drove me back to the city to see my doctor of the past ten years. She listened and I teared up and this is where I wonder about  the help people in real need receive. My doctor was understanding and suggested I see a counsellor, and perhaps she could give me something to help me sleep over the next couple of days BUT time restraints meant I had to make a longer appointment at another time, as soon as I could, to do a more complete mental health assessment.

So, if I was deeply, seriously, suicidal how would I have coped? Just gone out and lied down in the traffic?

I am not that deep and I have faith in myself that I will work my way out of this dark spot in a day, or a week, or a month, but what of others who are further down? It is difficult enough to get out of bed and present to someone your feelings and emotions to then experience “your time is up!”

I don’t blame the doctor, and I guess I could have said I needed a longer appointment when I phoned though as I said, I haven’t been thinking all that clearly to plan that well.

To me, it is just a symptom of our dysfunctional society where everything is a commodity that is allotted and priced, and inequities maintained. How do we reach out and support those without resources, without support, without resilience or stoicism or any of the terms we use for “getting a grip” or “bouncing back”? Or is it, now more than ever, a case of “physician heal thy self” – do it alone? Maybe that is why the self-help industry is a billion dollar industry!

continuation on a theme

It is difficult to maintain equilibrium and sanity at the moment. Today the young husband of one of Daughter1’s closest friends was killed riding his motorcycle to work. He was 37 and the father of three small children, the youngest just 4 years of age.

This was a man who danced at our daughter’s wedding, his lovely young wife played hostess at our daughter’s baby shower earlier this year – the centre piece she made for the party still sits on a shelf in their family room. Now their lives are splintered for ever.

No, this doesn’t change my life in anyway. Just as BIL’s illness changes my daily existence little, but it still doesn’t stop me feeling empathy, love and pain.

It was only just a few short weeks ago that I said to my work colleague how serene my life was and how happy I was and now in so many ways, more than I list here, it has unravelled. I guess it is true we can only live in the moment for we know not what the next contains.

Take your moments and clasp them tight.

Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be… or I would have packed the hip flask

Monday Monday 2Monday was one of those days when I started to envy the road kill by the side of the road on the way home.

At lunch time they held one of those tossing galleries where a teacher sits behind a panel with their face poking through a hole and students throw wet paint sponges at them. It was to raise money for charity. No I did not volunteer, one must protect the pearls!

I also stayed away because if one or two of my “favourite” admin staff had appeared through the peep hole there may have been more than paint in my sponge. I reckon I could still throw a mean rock…

And to think I get to do it all again today.

having the last slice

cake 3

 

Here’s my bucket list

When the doctors give me my final timeline amongst other things I am going to:

Run naked across the Governor General’s front lawn as my protest to British imperialism– Quentin is an understanding woman, I am sure she understand and I will wear the pearls; obviously only the pearls.

Rob a bank – I figure they owe me the money for all their excessive bank charges and I’ll be dead before I go to trial anyway

Update the stick list and get a bigger and rougher stick that will leave splinters when I beat them senseless. Or maybe they already are senseless and that is why they are on my stick list?

Poop on Rupert Murdoch – in a most elegant way of course, but I will eat fibre for the two days prior.

Tell Prince Charles what a bugger he was for marrying a woman he didn’t love and lying to her all the way.

Ask the Pope if he is catholic

Line all my former bosses up in a row and tell them what twits we all thought they were; before I beat them senseless with my thick, rough stick.

Sit in the public gallery during parliament and every time Tony Abbott speaks yell out “’ya mother wears army boots” or something

I can’t print here.

Eat all the cheese I want

Start eating sugar again – what’s it gonna do, kill me?

So that means chocolate for breakfast.

Not wash for two weeks in the peak of summer and invade personal spaces.

Throw my own wake and listen to everyone declare how much they love and adore me, and how they won’t be able to live without me.

Wear my favourite pyjamas all day and everywhere I go – except for when I am doing the nudey run across the GG’s lawn, but soon after.

Stop being polite to people with opposing views.

Order my own tombstone to read; “she died kicking and screaming and really pissed off”.

excuse you

Colleague sent an email out to all staff this week thanking us all for the lovely card, filled with congratulations and best wishes upon her engagement some months ago – that she never received. Yep, she took us all to task for not organising to sign a piece of cardboard wishing her happiness the umpteenth time around.

Anyone want to guess just why she might not have received a card?

design by committee at the smorgasbord

dream 1

Do you ever get to the point where you think, what is this damn well about? All this striving to be a success, meanness, competition, retail therapy and manicured toe nails? All this stupidity and wholeness that we fill our lives with, what is it for, what is it really for?

In reality, it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans in the end. Anyone who has collected a loved one in their urn is aware of just how small the remanets of our existence is!

On our tomb stones, it doesn’t read, Here lies a woman of incomparable domestic talents, coiffured hair, a slim waist, gifted children, a hostess who could who could whip up a four course banquet for nineteen with a jar of miracle whip, a frankfurter, eight olives and a passionfruit and never once drove a cherry pitter into the chest of her mother in law, no matter how much the old bag irritated her. Nope, we go into the great goodnight with just our names, and the hope that we were dearly loved.

This week, we learned that Bil’s cancer has invaded his liver and lymph nodes. Today, I spoke with him and told him to let go with the swearing, the protesting and the railing because life really isn’t fair. Life’s a shit and then you die, right?

Why have the gods developed such an array of ways for us to reach our demise? Why could they not have one demise fits all and just have us wilt away like the flowers in the field? Why do some get struck down as they sit on the their toilets to meet their maker with their pants down; or choke on a bread bag tie as they eat their ham sandwich, which brings to mind the question of just how many people do actually get hit by a bus and so is it worth wearing all that clean, unholey underwear? To be made to suffer discomfort, pain, anxiety and terror seems an unfitting end to our earthly existence. Messy, as if the gods never had a full project plan for our ends – and any woman who has gone through child birth would think that the beginning isn’t so grand either!

Maybe the pantheon of gods heard there was an all you could eat smorgasbord on at Adephagia’s Big Plate Greek Diner over on the corner of Mt Olympus and Thessaly, and they all hot footed it over there, leaving Eileithyia and Thanatos to tie up the loose ends and they did a shoddy job on our births and deaths because they didn’t wanted to miss out on the lobster salad.

Yeah, good one guys. Hope you got ecoli.