Torture in a Shopping Centre

Today, I learned a few things, and also stumbled across some awesome. The awesome that I stumbled across was that, after only a week of looking for work, I have gained employment! And so via that we lead on to the multitude of annoyingly horrid facts I learned today.

Firstly comes the horrifying realisation that, despite the awesome fact that one now has employment, one neads a work wardrobe and would happily shoot oneself before venturing into the shopping centre. During school holidays. While towing the long suffering but awesomely patient boyfriend. At least HE gets to sit around playing Suduko while I run around madly from rack to rack bemoaning the utter uselessness of all the CRAP they call 'work wear' in the lady's fashion section. Seriously ladies, when did a paper bag covered in a ton of badly placed over enthusiastic frill become fashionable? Or even wearable? I mean...where the heck are the sleeves?!

And then, you run into a problem. Children. Or more specifically, that enemy age group better known as...Teenagers. Horrible, smirking, smelly little shits who sit in the middle of the isle, somehow taking up ALL the room so the only thing you can do is really, squeeze around them or make a point of stopping and asking them to move. By the end of the day (4 hours of grueling annoying shopping for clothing; whoever said women love it should be shot) I was no longer willing to put up with their self centred ways. Breezing through Woolworths I made the boyfriend crack up when, instead of slowing and asking this final teen to move, I simply breezed on toward him, got to the 50cm point and bellowed "MOVE!" without slowing down. He jumped about half a foot, and I swear I have NEVER seen a teenager move so godamned fast in my life.

Also, what the F is with the latest craze in shoes? Don't get me wrong; I have a liking for good shoes just like the next woman. For example, I currently have 4 pairs; thats heaps right? Anyhow, I was looking for a set of shoes; medium heel, black, leather preferable but not necessary, open toed but partially closed; your average receptionist heels really. And you know what? I couldn't find any. I found PLENTY with hooker heel heights. I found plenty of horrifyingly bad ballet flats...but not a flamming THING in normal, medium heeled open toe shoes.

Seriously people, fashion pisses me off on the best of days, which today should have been due to my new job and the most patiently awesome boyfriend following me round with infinite patience in my erratic rambling way of shopping, but WOW I hate clothing shopping. MAJORLY.

Give me a good sammies and 5 minutes tops any day.

Because I Can

How Life Changes...

I know it has been a while since I posted, and I apologise to any regular readers. I also apologise that this post will be very self absorved, and full of self reflection, but sometimes one has to be selfish on one's own blog. The last couple of months have heralded a lot of shifts and changes in my life, and a large amount of thinking.

To begin, my marriage, which had been stumbling along through valleys and peaks for months, even years if I am to be honest, finally broke. Hopefully we will eventually be able to deal with it between us in a perfectly amicable way, but for the moment we are both dealing with it the best we can, which sometimes is very badly, and other times happens to be, at least for me, very well.

The time since that break has allowed me much time to think; about my life, my future, my present, my friends and family, my values. And I have come to some wonderful conclusions. Firstly, I realised, after much crying and soul searching, that this split really was the right thing for us both. I don’t think I realised before now how much the drive for a new baby was affecting us as a couple and me as a person. I had become nothing more than a desperate mother without a baby. We had become nothing more than two people who needed a child. And that path led us only to desperation, sadness and a gaping chasm growing between us by the day.

I realised that I had been missing the ability to just be me without being concerned about his opinion; the ability to take a girls night out, the ability to have a drink with some friends at the pub. I was even missing working, or having something to study, to advance in. I realised I wanted to become someone, that I had left myself behind and turned into nothing more than a floating person.

I realised that I highly value my friends. I re-established in my head the knowledge that no matter what, the GOOD friends will always be there for you, and they are really the only people who count in life. I realised that when things get really tough, they are the ones who will still be there.

I was able to establish a guide line in my head of what I want in my life. Firstly, I want to find a stable, equal loving relationship. One in which there are no ghosts hanging over our heads, bringing us eternally down, drowning me in sorrows. I eventually want a family, so at least that hasn’t changed. I want a stable relationship, stability in my life. I want to be able to spend more time with my friends, less time in games, and more time enjoying life. I want to find a job I enjoy, and settle into it. I want to study. Hopefully I will even eventually follow through with that goal. I want to finish that cussed novel that has sat in my drawer for the last half a decade, even if I never publish it.

Some of these goals, I am already working toward, or am achieving as I write. And I have realised that, for the first time in nearly three years, since the loss of our son James, I feel alive. I feel like I am awake, and able to move forward. I feel like I am finally able to allow James to rest in peace, leave him in my past where he belongs and move into life and a future without him. This realisation gives me a great deal of happiness as really it is long past time I left him in the past, let him rest. It also brings with it some sadness; mainly sadness at the idea that in order to finally be able to lay him to rest, I had to leave his father behind me and move into a new phase of my life.

However, despite the bad points, I have great hope that the coming years are full of bright spots for me. I already feel as if, over the coming years, I will make many more memories to treasure, have many more interesting times, and a lot of laughter. Life is full of surprises, and I am confident that I will have some good ones in the future. My main regret is that in moving forward I hurt a good man…I hope that he too has many good years in his future.

Because I Can.

My Neighbourhood of Weird

My neighbourhood is a weird, wacky and strange place. I love it to bits for all of the amusing happenings that occur in it, and for these things allowing me to go unnoticed as the strange person I am. I mean, I am the sort of person who will happily walk out of my house in a medieval dress and cloak with one of my black cats in my arms. On an average day. And that is mild. My neighbourhood however, puts me firmly in normal.

Take the people half a block over, for example. I never see or hear from them until...Friday morning. On the dot of 11am. Every Friday, without fail, they gather the whole family, and I mean everyone, for a bottle shop run. I guess they have got to love centrelink pay day ^^

Or the guy who likes watering his garden in...the fresh. I mean, thats all well and good mate, we all have our quirks. But you know, it's really a little off putting to us all. And considering the brick wall, which comes up to your chest height, maybe it would be wiser next time to just keep watering your garden? If you hadn't done that mad sprint of caught outness I would *never* have even considered it. Honestly dude. I mean, I thought ALL guys watered the garden topless...

And then there's the junk mail war. Honestly, before I got pulled into this, albeit as a firm side line watcher, I had no idea that grown, adult men could act as childishly as this. One of them hates junk mail, so gets a ban put on ALL the mail boxes. The other, just for giggles, makes up a sign requesting junk mail. And now the first guy is trying to figure a way to get the second kicked out of the units...over junk mail...and they both claim that the other is the immature one. Good gods.

So, while all these quirks are happening on my street, I think I'll settle back and watch. Rest my toe so that when my kick ass bike boots arrive I can put them on and wear them everywhere for a week. I may even put on a medieval dress and pointed hat, collect one of my black cats and go sit on the mail boxes for a while. With an awesome book, like 'The Story of O'. That may just solve everything!

Because I Can

An Attempt to Make a Good Evening.

I've found myself in a depressive cycle recently. Something catches my eye that reminds me of something, which drags up memories, which sends me into a spiral, and when I try to claw my way back up, I just find that I get dragged further into it. Generally I end up hiding in my corner, wishing for a new day, wishing I could wake up just once and find that I feel excited to be awake instead of wishing I was holding my son, or even able to know I can have more. So, while I still don't know how to get out of this cycle, or how to fix it, I have a couple of ideas. Tonight, my idea is to try to write about my most cherished memories. Who knows, it may help, right?

So...just a few of my favourite memories of all time. My Dad, throwing me up in the air when I was three. Making gingerbread men with Mum when I was 5; we got icing everywhere, and I even got it all through my hair, but I was giggling like a loon the whole time. Best part was eating them afterward, obviously :P
Becoming a big sister; no longer was I the youngest, no longer was I the only kid at home, I now had a friend, a play mate, someone to look after, cherish and love. My little siblings are both amazing and wonderful people, and I love them very, very much. ^^
My first sleep over. Granted, it was at my cousins house, so doesnt even really count, but I was so excited about it. I remember Mum said I couldnt go if I still had my cold by the end of the week, and I was so worried she wouldnt let me go that every time I needed to cough I would run to my room and cough into my pillow so she wouldnt hear me :)

So...recent years? Well...Dancing round my best friend's bedroom to Shania Twain and laughing hysterically as we recovered from a tickle fight at 1am on the morning of my 16th birthday.
Meeting my wonderful husband. I was at a friend's birthday party, and she took me outside and sat me down in a group of people, some of whom I vaguely knew, others I knew nothing of, and there he was, discissing the benefits of having fridges in bedrooms with the girlfriend of one of my school mates. By the way dearling, I still believe you were terrible to allow me to get drunk that night; I still have no idea at all how I managed to hide that fact from mum! :D


Obtaining an awesome, amazing new family. I never believed that having in-laws would be a wonderful experience, but I could never have been more wrong. My mother in law is the most amazing mother in the world, and my sister in law is amazing.

Becoming a mother. James...you were a beautiful baby. You were perfect, and gorgeous, and adorable.

Getting married. Three years in this year and still going strong despite our hurdles :)

Watching the massive storm that hit my city two years ago from the kitchen at my mother in laws house. She has these amazing floor to ceiling windows throughout the kitchen, and we sat there, looking out via candle light at the amazing storm raging around us...just beautiful.

Traveling to Malaysia and Singapore early this year. I met some amazing people and had some amazing experiences. It was a beautiful trip, and my first out of the country; I loved it :)

Destroying my toe on a wine rack. Admittedly, the experience itself was not at all funny or wonderful, and is still making my life pretty hard, however the experience of laughing so hard I could barely breathe in an emergency room for three hours was golden. I loved it, and do not regret the destruction of my toe; after all, I came out with an awesome story to tell ;)

So...Admittedly, this hasn't made me feel 100% better. But it has improved my night. And it has allowed me to relook through my life, and remember some of the awesome moments. Especially those of the last few years. And it has made me realise that while I do have a hard time getting out of this depressive cycle, I have a wonderful family and some absolutely amazing friends right here with me to help.

Because I Can

Pie Maker Randomness

The other day I was walking around BigW with my other half, and I did something I've been meaning to do for a very long time. I bought a pie maker. I didnt need this item. I probably wont use it every day like I do my kettle. But I wanted it, and had done so for a long, long time. It was a calculated impulse buy.

You see, a couple of years ago, a guy we were good friends with bought one. Not because he really wanted it, or would use it lots. Not because it was useful, or even interesting. Mainly because he was bored, had a tiny amount of left over cash, and he happened to see it in the split second when he was deciding wether to spend that money on something shiny or something edible. When he got it home, he ranted at us about it for an hour or so, then the next day we made pies. And I thought it was awesome. Best pie's ever ^^ Very little work, whatever filling you want, and the knmowledge you made them yourself and that they're as healthy or as fatty as you want.

He stopped using it after about a week. Too much effort. Boring. Not exciting any more. And I always thought it was awaste of money, considering what he did with it. Locking it in a cupboard and forgetting it even existed. Three months down the track he had forgotten even buying it. And I must admit, this irked me. I mean, this guy was always a little bit like that. Buying things on random impulse when he couldnt affords them and had no use for them, throwing them out instead of reselling them when he got bored, buying the most expensive item because, despite not having the money, that made it the better item. Annoying.

But I now have a pie maker. I love it, it is awesome, easy to use, and it has saved me a lot o work over the last couple of weeks while my toe heals. Best of all is the knowledge that I didn't buy it on random impulse. I bought it because I knew I would use it and I already loved it. So, despite that friendship being long dead that story sticks in my head. I still wonder if, with time, that man could have come to realise how much he was throwing away in his life. But I came out of it with the main message: Buy a pie maker, they rule! ^^

Because I Can.

Dear Toe

I understand I have offended you. I understand that I hurt you, and upset you. I know I made us bleed, and that you had to get stitches. But, over all, I have spent the time since then looking after you. I have coddled you, washed you and redressed you every day. I have sat with you resting and bored myself silly doing nothing *but* make sure you are feeling ok.

I know, I know, taking you shopping tonight probably was not the best plan in the world. I could have thought that one through. But I was very careful to put as little weight on you as I possibly could, and it wasn't like I had a choice about carrying groceries! And even then I tried to be kind to you and put all the weight on my other side...

However this week has been great. I haven't done more than a couple of sinkfuls of dishes on you this week, remember? And I hung washing on the clothes horse, inside, while sitting on the couch. THAT didn't stress you at all. I have, in fact, left all the house work alone. Including leaving the blood in the bathroom floor from when I hurt you! All so I could let you rest. I think I have been pretty amazing to you this week, all things acounted for.

So, I know I havent been the best carer in the whole world. But I did get you antibiotics, and I do care for you a lot. And apart from a couple of things, I have treated you amazingly and perfectly as ordered by the doctor and Tane all week! So...could you please explain why, after a week of such wonderful treatment, you are now acting like a tantruming child and trying to cause me as much pain as you can? If you cannot explain, I shall possibly get agressive. Like 'walking the dog with you' agressive. Especially considering I shall not be medicating you tomorrow.

Yours,

Letdown Owner.


Because I Can

Misdiagnosis.

*Note: not my usual content.*

My cat clogs the cushion on my desk, testimony to how much of a push over I am in that, despite the fact that I should be resting my foot upon it, I cannot be bothered disturbing her enough to reclaim it. Of course, it doesnt help that when I do put in a half hearted effort she delicately cites my foot; clear sign to back off and leave 'her' cushion be.

I sit here a little undecided. See, I began writing this post about half an hour ago. I'm not entirely sure why, or who for, only that it's something I need to write. I have had a lot of lables applied to me over the last nearly three years by various sects of the medical proffession, and most of them I really don't care about at all. However one of them really has begun to irk me. And I'm not entirely sure what irks me most; that I agree with it as a diagnosis, or that once that diagnosis was spoken that seems to be it...I had a lable, they were done with me. Nothing else mattered.

Actually, I think that would be it. That once that diagnosis was made, that was the end. And that is how the medical world works. They think they have you pinned neatly in a little box when they only have a tiny amount of the facts, and then they send you home and refuse to gather any more facts, because you're fixed. And I hate it.

See, about 6 months ago, I went to my doctor. I told her I believed I was in the middle of a misscarriage, and that I had taken a very positive test 6 days before. She got a pee sample and did her own test, to make sure, but then, before she even bothered to look at the rest for the results, she sat me down and gave me a long speech on how she knew it was very easy to believe in something that I wanted so very, very badly, believe in it enough that when I got my normal period I tricked myself into believing I had been pregnant, and now was becoming not so. She went on in this vein for a good five, maybe ten minutes, while I sat there in disbelief. I had no idea what to do. And then she dropped it. The diagnosis. She told me quite kindly that she believed I was depressed. Before even looking at the pregnancy test.

Now, I have no problems with diagnoses; normally a diagnosis to an issue is a good thing. However, this doctor had already, befopre doing that test for me, decided two things. One, that I was not pregnant, and had not been in quite some time. And two, that I was depressed and suffering dellusions. Forgive me for saying so, but I prefere a doctor who will look at all the facts before making any assumptions, not just some. I prefere a doctor who will collect test results before telling me my standing. And in over a year of desperately looking, I can safely say I have not found one.

Now, eventually, after her speech, this lady did look at the test results. And they did prove me to be right; 6 weeks in and loosing. And her only response to this was 'Oh. That's not what I was expecting.' which was quite disappointing to me as I was expecting an apology, at the very least. But for me, the point of this matter is that the damage was already done. Although I do agree that I am suffering a mild case of depression, I do not believe that she did the right thing in trying to convince me of this instead of looking at the facts (the test result) before she diagnosed. I agree with her that my desperation to concieve is appalling, and I agree with her that I am depressed, however I do not believe it fair of her, or any doctor, to presume before the facts are in.

So, in the future, all you people of the medical proffession....If you want patients to have faith in you, and stop double checking you....Be fair. Have the facts. Make a diagnosis based on ALL of the facts, not simply your personal opinion. Because it is the doctors, like this one, who make a bad name for the proffession. Doctors like this that make people like me give up on getting help.

Because I Can