Tuesday, 31 May 2011
Monday, 30 May 2011
Friday, 27 May 2011
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
|This photo is of a couple I dont know at an event I went to recently, they danced together in the sunlight, looking so much in love.|
The lovely E over at Whining at the World wrote a post recently about relationship deal breakers that got us thinking about what exactly constitutes a deal breaker. How for some people little annoying habits might signal the end and for others years of mental/ physical abuse might not be enough.
I started wondering what it is exactly that keeps people together when they probably shouldn’t be. One reason is fear. In the case of people I have known suffering mental /physical abuse, some have stayed due to the fear of being hurt or even killed. Another type of fear is the fear of not knowing what to do without your partner, I have seen a women in her 60s, married to a man she has never loved, stay in the relationship unhappily out of the fear of being on her own and the feeling of being unable to survive financially without him. Another friend finally left an abusive relationship believing for much too long that she was not good enough for anyone else and that nobody else would have her.
Another reason is ‘staying together for the kids’. Some people even choose have a baby as a way of improving a marriage or trying to get someone to stay with them, these people have no idea how much more complicated leaving a marriage is with children involved. Personally can’t understand why this would feel like the right thing to do, I remember my best friend growing up listening to her parents fight day in and day out she used to wish they would just divorce already so they could all get on with their lives without the fighting. Her parents did eventually divorce but not until the children left home. Another friend’s mother didn’t call it quits with her husband until he was sent to jail for stabbing and nearly killing her – previously these years of mental and physical abuse were endured “for the children”. Wouldn’t our kids be much happier growing up in two separate happy environments, than one unhappy one?
The husband and I have dealt with things through our 10years together as most couples have, some of these things would probably even be considered ‘deal breakers’ to people. I am pleased to say that we very rarely fight and our relationship is stronger now than ever, the divorce rates these days are just plain scary, something like 2 out of 3, and I admit we have even joked nervously every time the relationship of somebody around us ends, that our own odds have statistically improved.
I suppose everyone is different, I personally HATE confrontation and fighting, I don’t recall my parents ever fighting and I just can’t handle it. The Husband is more the silent type who gets his point across by NOT talking, his parents are still together as well. I know one couple that fight like cats and dogs loudly ALL the time (even on the phone in the middle of Kmart), but they genuinely do love each other and despite their volatile natures could never be a part from each other. Both their parents are divorced and I wonder how that impacts their marriage and influences the way they deal with situations .
Did your parents divorce? What do you consider to be a deal breaker? Has your relationship overcome the odds?
Saturday, 21 May 2011
Friday, 20 May 2011
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
So last night I left the farm amidst cries of 'what's for dinner?' 'where are you going?' and 'He hit me!!'.
I kissed the apprehensive looking husband goodbye and headed into town, music up full volume. I managed to get approximately 800 metres from the driveway before narrowly avoiding killing a neighbor on his motorbike whilst speeding and swerving a Kangaroo who then ran infront of him, thankfully he was fine and skippy will live another day. Ok re adjust self, turn the music down to a tad more age appropriate levels and back on my way, somewhat more cautiously this time.
I made it into town without fur on my bumper and proceeded to a restaurant - that nice kind where you are NOT supplied with coloured pens to beautify the table cloth and nothing on the menu started with a 'Mc'. I met up with the staff from the retail outlet I work for. The staff consist of The two owners (in their 50s) two 17year olds the birthday girl (21) and me.
|Image from here|
|image from here|
|image from here|
Tuesday, 17 May 2011
Monday, 16 May 2011
|image from here|
I don’t want to be here. I had made a promise to myself just two days ago whilst clutching my baby girl tightly as we headed home after 4 days of seeing her attached to a NG tube and various monitors whilst words like ‘surgical consult’ had been thrown about somewhat carelessly, yes I had decided then that I would actively avoid the place for as long as possible.
I continue down the corridor passing the sterile metal food trolleys lined up next to a door patiently waiting their turn to be stocked. My heart beats a little faster as I turn right and venture up a vast stairwell, my every move echoing loudly up its cold concrete steps until I reach the top and another long corridor working my way through the maze to the main lobby.
I reach the information desk and give my friends name. I am directed to level 7. Holding my breath as the elevator reaches its destination, I ponder what to say for the 100th time, I don’t think there are any ‘right’ words for this situation, part of me wants to hug her and the other part wants to slap her silly. The elevator doors slide stiffly open and another maze of corridors is waiting for me, I weave my way through to her room and take a deep breath I walk in and peer through the curtain,
there she is slumped face down on the bed sleeping heavily, her eyes have shadows darker than I have ever seen. I mutter her name, no response, I go in and sit on the bed she stirs and looks up at me with a half smile, I opt for the hug over the slap and we make light banter for a few seconds, both of us seeming to be avoiding the obvious topic at hand.
Her mother then comes into the room and smiles to see me, her face pale and worn with worry and grief, I feel awful for her, I can’t begin to imagine how it must feel to see her daughter like this, being a mother myself changes the perspective somewhat.
She had apparently taken several packets of a number of opiates just to make sure the job was done right. Anger spills out of her toward her mother for coming home early and calling the ambulance, just another half an hour – that’s all, then I could have had peace, she says bitterly. The detail of the planning was chilling.
I think the saddest part about this whole situation was that we all knew there was a problem, and there had been for years, we did what we could at the time, but it wasn’t enough.
She had tried to get help, she had tried quite hard to get help, but had been stonewalled every time one psychologist labelling her a hypochondriac attention seeker. Eventually somewhere along the way she gave up, what’s the point? Nobody will listen anyway. She sank so deep into depression that she became isolated and dissasosiative.
She says she is so tired, so very tired, she doesn’t want to suffer anymore. She can’t understand and wants to know the reason why we find this acceptable in a terminal cancer patient, yet we can’t seem to find it acceptable with her, she says it’s her body, her decision. She doesn’t want help anymore, she says it’s too late; she just wants to go home so that she can finish the job properly, take the pain away. Her attitude has become sarcastic and numb, she’s not sad anymore, she is way past that.
Depression is such an incredible problem society today, although as a community we are improving our understanding and acceptance of mental illnesses, I am terrified that someone could actively seek help for a period of years and be turned away, having simply given up. Another person failed by the system until suicide seems to them to be their only way out.
The doctors lacking a bed in the correct psychology department were planning to discharge her from the hospital, they actually gave her a card with an appointment scheduled to meet with a hospital psychologist in a week’s time. Luckily her mother put her foot down and for the time being she is still under observation, but I can’t believe that the system has cracks so deep that they would plan to send a suicidal women home to come back in a week for a “chat” with someone.
I don’t know what to do, what to say, in many ways it feels like it’s too late to help her, she has completely made peace with dying and nothing that has been said to encourage her otherwise has even rippled the surface. I just hope that someone can find her the help she needs to recover from this; it’s a long journey ahead one I hope she can be convinced to take.
Sunday, 15 May 2011
Saturday, 14 May 2011
Originally started by Melissa @ The Things I'd Tell You, the Muse Wars continued through eight challenges and then faded into oblivion. I did attempt to kick start it again but failed dismally. But I'll try once more.
- Open to all and sundry, you need to link below in comments. First to list sets next challenge. Anyone can join in, you just need to write a story as your interpretation of the photo in 500 - 1000 words. Can be of any genre - let your mind fly free.
- First to link sets new photo for next challenge. Or can pass it on to next on list but MUST be passed within 24 hours of previous challenge closing.
- Next challenge must be set within seven days of completion of previous challenge.
- Will allow 5 days to complete - so starts Sunday evening, ends Friday night.
Now here is the picture for the first challange:
Wednesday, 11 May 2011
|image from here|
Tuesday, 10 May 2011
I worked on Sunday, and in order to make it into town I had to leave early, before the kids had time to realize it was Mothers Day. So my mother’s day was spent in the company of adults with the bonus of being payed for my time, which was quite enjoyable really as I like my work and the people there so it feels like a bit of a break from the mundane.
After work I was supposed to meet The Husband and kids in town and go to my SILs place for a Mother’s Day dinner for my MIL. The Husband called me at lunchtime and said that the bonfire we had been burning hadn’t gone down as much as expected so he and the children wouldn’t be able to leave it to come in to town. (How convenient) I thought that I had better go anyway, MIL and I get on quite well.
After work I trundled off to SILs place, it’s the first time I have seen their new home and it feels odd to be there without The Husband. It’s a gorgeous house, modern and artfully decorated like a page from a magazine. My other SIL arrives with their 4 children arrives, I have technically been part of their family for 10yrs now but I always feel so awkward. I was never good enough, just that girl their brother knocked up. They chat about all of the Mother’s day gifts received and luxuries bestowed upon them. They are all very comfortable in each other’s presence and I am the odd one out. MIL arrives, I’m glad to see a friendly face and we eat. I make my long drive home excuses and leave, they seem relieved. So am I.
I spent that drive back reflecting on family and the important things, wishing I had just gone home straight after work, home where I am accepted for who I am, home with my husband and children who love me, where mothers day means more than lush gifts.
I arrive to a humongous mess clothes and toys litter the floor, dishes overflow the sink and the smell of bonfire smoke is stale in the air. The Husband is reading a story to the kids as I walk into the lounge and they all jump up, shout “Mummy!” and hug me.
It feels good to be home. I survey the bomb site again and smile, the mess just reminds me of why I am needed and the homely feeling beats the perfect magazine style environment any day.
Just as I kiss the kids goodnight one of them asks ‘Is it Mother’s Day mum?’ Yes honey, I reply and quick as a flash the three boys run to their school bags and produce little cards they have made for me. “love you mum” they say , the princess gives me a snotty kiss on the nose and they hop in to their beds with smiles on their faces. “Want a coffee love?” asks the Husband giving me a hug. And as I start unstacking the dishwasher to find a clean cup I think about how much I love them too, more than they could ever know.
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
|image from here|
Imagine, in today’s world, not having a television. Well shock horror, we live it every day.