Tectonic

 

There is a fault line in my earth.

A fault line that formed as I was emerging from the earth. The earth cracked and shifted as I crawled out of the ground. The water seeped into my groundwater and broke the innermost core of me. And plants grew in there. They used the water and they made me with the air and fire above. And I grew from there.

The fault line lay open for years. Unmoved. The whole of me grew above.

Then, the me above started to get heavier and heavier. And the ground was not strong enough to hold me. The fault line started shifting.

I became unbalanced. I noticed rumbling and quiet stirrings that moved me slightly. And before I knew it, an earthquake started and my whole foundation crumbled to the ground.

I fell onto the earth and I lay helpless.

Then the fault line continued to move, and shift, and bend, and fold, and ripples of mud and hay and fire and air and vegetation mixed together and enveloped me and held me and reassured me. And I took it, and had to stare at it in the face. I looked at it.

It was an ugly, deep, dark hole. A huge scar in the earth cleaving me in half. And I took it and I told it I didn’t want it any more.

I acknowledge you, chasm. But I don’t need you and I don’t want you to rule my foundation any more.

I took it and I gently turned it into malleable sand that seeped through the cracks and allowed water to enter and roots to start to enter the earth, and take new hold. New footholds and spikes in my new foundation. And this took a long time. This took years of slow growth. A millimetre at a time. And then I’d get it wrong, and I’d have to go back in and clip some of the shoots off and start again.

And only recently I have actually seen something stirring above ground. For so long I have tended the roots and nothing showed for it.

Then not long ago, a small shoot emerged. I looked at it and it was beautiful. It was me. I re-entered the earth and emerged unchanged, bur forever altered. For I am grounded back to my earth and my water, and I am the fire and the air and the excrement that formed me. For they are all beautiful molecules that make up what I am.

I am matter. I matter.

I can now focus on growing these shoots and I know now where the roots all are, so if I need to trim one of them, I can go back into the earth, dig a little and find the one I need to trim. Delicately and lovingly, for I know the fault line lies dormant, as it has settled back into the ground, and the more I trim and the more I do in there, the more it settles, a day at a time. It still quietly rumbles, and the small cracks that are still in there slowly fill with sand. And this will be forever. For the fault line is in me. But it is not me. It is my foundation  and my roots. I cannot deny it,  but I am settling it. I am filling it and quietening the earth that I came from.

My ground. Mine. My roots. My being. Me. I can see me.

Time

You are a thief. Stealing life from those who want you and from those who need you.

A thief who is unscrupulous and cruel.

A thief who takes indiscriminately.

No one will be spared. For the need to devour is ever-present.

You are a greedy beast.

Eating away at us.

At me, as I barely manage to get out of reach,

you take big bites in one fell swoop.

You munch away carelessly.

You fatten your own comfort.

You greedily devour away at our achievements and our glories.

You obesely and shamelessly keep at it.

You are an aloof lover.

You pass me by, I remain unrecognised.

Emotionally detached, you measure our relationship as a transaction.

I give, you take.

You pass, I age.

You accelerate, I die.

You are untouchable,

ephemeral,

untouchable and thin.

You dissolve into the air,

you pass unnoticed, unheeded, untaxed. Unashamed, unbidden, unhinged.

When you want to,

when it suits you,

you stay, you firmly attach yourself and adhere to the ages.

You remain, and cling, and cloy.

You sit and lounge,

you loiter and stare.

You hover and stink.

When you are wrong, you are really wrong.

You collude and steer people towards each other,

at your own will.

You scheme and plot, and take pride in the experience.

You are a gossipy meddler,

a player in full garb.

You are so powerful,

all consuming.

You laugh as we miss you and cross your path in the wrong way.

You enjoy watching us flounder and fall.

You cruel, cruel maker.

You magnetic and powerful drawer of energy.

You gather up the ages,

you sew together events and visit unheeded.

You can stay in one place or move faster than light.

Your mettle is undiscovered and your matter unfound.

You hurt me every time the hands pass me by.

You tick away at my soul as I age and wrinkle away.

I want to kill you and yet I want to embrace you,

for your are wise and powerful and true.

When will you be right?

Can you truly answer that?

My life has missed you, ever accelerating at different speeds from me.

`Would you consider synchronising and just waiting for me?

Would you just stop so I can catch you,

so that we can walk together just this once.

Because I really want this.

For once.

I want to stop you on your tracks,

I want to spend you like a dollar,

I want to enjoy you like a holiday,

I want to feel you like a dream.

I want to stop with you and set like jelly in your arms.

Don’t be hasty, don’t rush.

Don’t slow down so much it hurts,

but consider my heart.

Tick tock on my mantle piece and ever pulsating on my left wrist.

Hush, little baby and go to sleep.

For I am waking you tomorrow and you will tell.

Fruit salad

 

Fruit salad 

This has been a recurrent theme for humans for centuries, I am sure. 

What is the meaning of life, why am I here, what is the purpose, blah blah blah. 

No tiger or lion ever asked itself this. At least not that I know of. 

Why? Because they are too busy living, earning their keep within the food chain and being tigers and lions. They are in a community that accepts and loves them, and they are content. At least they seem it. Their life consists of finding food, resting and procreating. And that is their life, that is their purpose. 

I don’t think humans are any different. Our lives come down to the same basic needs and facts, if you reduce us to our most common denominator. We are not special. We hunger for food and sex, and kids. And if you don’t want kids, you can’t tell me that you do not seek meaning in the past, in archaeology or history or buildings and cultures. You seek meaning because that is what we are built for. 

And it is therefore impossible to escape the feeling that our children are the be all and end all of our existence. Because they probably are. Our legacy of sorts. 

Does it therefore follow that that pressure must fall on their shoulders? That they must succeed where we have failed or that they must achieve where we have not. Or that they must find happiness where we have not?

What happens if you have a child whose biggest wish is to cook for their husband, have dinner on time and serve them humbly and happily? Does that make that child a lesser being? Do we place expectations on our kids that are unrealistic? I don’t know. I try not to. And maybe through that process, they feel even more pressure. 

I struggle to let go of the constant guilt and feeling of responsibility for their decisions or lack thereof. 

At the end of the day, the only thing I can do is make my own decisions. 

Easier said than done. 

Having spent more than 20 years of my life living for others, and catering for other people’s needs, it makes it very difficult to actually decide what it is I want for the remainder of my days. 

I think I just want peace. Peace within and r=without. 

I want to be free of guilt. I want to be full of love and compassion and place hate where it belongs, and dissipates with its memories. 

I want to feel like I have done my best at everything, and have left no stone unturned when it comes to self actualization and growth. 

I want to feel humble, and realise that no one is perfect, and I can never be. 

More than anything, I would like my water ripple to have an effect. To be a drop in a ocean where a drop falls and creates a tsunami in years to come. I want to be a drop that matters. 

I want to battle my demons face to face, no weapons. Just them and me. And end my life at a place and time where I feel satisfied with my efforts. That is all. A bit of earthly satisfaction along the way, a bit of romance here and there, friendship and love, and furry animals that stink up my life. A bit of mathematical genius would have been nice, but that’s a bit late for me, I think. I’ll have to just satisfy myself with random fruit salad potty mouth. 

How do i do it?

 When my children were growing up, I had to tell myself on a regular basis that the years were finite. 

This had a two fold purpose: one, to enjoy every moment because it would never come again, and two, to be aware that these moments would pass and never be again.

The years were a tapestry of moments sewn together. Some good, some bad. Loneliness enmeshed with sheer joy and exhilaration at the task at hand. Hard work with added short lived passionate affairs, work that was unchallenging but easy to navigate given my circumstances. 

I get asked how I did it. And I find I seldom have an answer. It feels like I am almost at the end of the grueling part, and I find I don’t really know how I brought up two children on my own for 15 years. So, for the benefit of other sole parents, I decided to try to break it up.

The first three days were the hardest. It was the first time in my life that I had to depend solely on myself. No parents, no partner. There were friends, but at the time I didn’t have many, and some retreated from me as if they needed to take a stance and pick a side. I felt acute pain. It was physical and raw. It was so painful that I needed to do things to keep it at bay. That first night, as he drove away, the street flooded, and as I waded in knee deep water and sandbagged the neighbour's front door in the rain, I knew I would survive. I did break after that for a few days, but kept reminding myself of how strong I felt that night.

After three days, I got drunk. A terrible way to cope, I know, but it ended that sadness. I vomited all over the bathroom, and somehow, it helped me pull myself together somewhat. 

I sat down with myself and made decisions about my work. Emergency and shift work were not going to work for my young family, so I started looking for a family friendly job.

I had to tell the children that their parents were separating. Phoebe was almost 6 and she understood.  She cried and didn’t like the idea one bit, but I made a point of telling her that it wasn’t her fault, that both mummy and daddy loved her and that she would see daddy all the time. My ex didn’t have a house yet, but as soon as he did, they would go and stay. Dan was only 4 and he didn’t really understand,  I didn’t think. But after a few weeks of changing sheets at night again after months of being dry, I put him back in night nappies. I guess he did understand in some ways. I joined the COPE library, and took books out for myself on how to navigate legal aspects and the emotions rushing through me. I took out children's books, and read to the kids, which was incredibly therapeutic for me. 

I found myself a psychologist, and started seeing her for 2 and a half years. I had intended it to be a short stint.

Dan started having nightmares, and that was hard. He saw my psychologist for a few sessions, and she said he was well adjusted, and to encourage art. So, art materials were provided by the truckload and he was encouraged to express those emotions he has always kept to himself until very recently.

Phoebe seemed ok. She has always been an intellectualiser.  Her issues didn’t become evident until her world changed. She didn’t like change, and moving into a new house was very hard for her. I had ideas of travelling and living in a different city, but I decided that I needed to be a stable base, so decided I would not move from this house if I could help it. I was angry at having to be the grown up while my ex was off living a bachelor's life. This anger lasted years. But I eventually let it go, as it was not useful and all consuming. I surrounded myself with friends.  The kids' primary school was a wonderful source of support and I met wonderful long term friends who are still in my life. Thank goodness. They saved me. These people nurtured me, helped me, supported me, held me up, helped my children and shared their love with me and my kids. It was the best thing I ever did. I thank my lucky stars for these people every day. Without them, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. My sister came back from Perth some years ago, and I have added her to my network of valuable people. My mum still worked full time, but her partner and her provided me with a place for the kids when I wasn’t available, and they loved it! My ex mother in law did not withdraw her assistance, and once again, that was invaluable.

I decided that I would enjoy my children and still do all the things that families do. I took them away on cheap holidays. Last minute hotel deals, holiday packages, joined the scouts so we could go camping  and hiking and have adventures. I opted for optimism despite recurrent and chronic depression that would take me to the edge of despair on a regular basis. I got myself a GP, I put things in place so people would call me out if I was sounding depressed. My sister in Perth would pick it up easily. I got myself a shrink when the drugs stopped helping. I exercised regularly, and this was another saving grace for me, as I couldn’t have done any of it without physical fitness and it kept the black dog at bay. I only ever had to take a week off one time when I was so burnt out and depressed that I walked out of the clinic and decided not to return the next day and instead increase my antidepressants. 

On days when I would feel like a bad mother, I would allow myself to wallow. But only for one day. And then I would pick myself up, shake myself off and keep going. Who else have they got? Who do they rely on? Who is their rock?” My children have saved my life many times over the years, and I am so grateful for the gift of being their mum.

I learned to practice gratitude. I would find something to be grateful for, even on the darkest of days. A jacaranda in full bloom in a dark storm, an outing to the park to blow bubbles when strapped for cash, a zoo membership so we always had a free exciting place to visit, my health,  my strength and fitness, a fragrant candle lit in the evening, fresh eggs from the chooks, my children. Always my children. On days when I was so tired and I just wanted to scream, I would just make my coffee a bit stronger and sometimes have a little brief cry in the kitchen.  I wrote a lot. I did a lot of internet dating, with the mistaken idea that I would find a man to rescue me and make everything better again. That I would have a family again, and more children. But I needed to rescue myself, and I did. I learned how to. I kept this blog to remind me of what was good. And I listened to gems at work, people I worked with over the years and patients about how precious those years were, and not to waste them, be mindful,  carpe diem.

I used movies and television and books, and took wisdom from those places. Buffy was a great teacher to me, about relationships and learning about them. I grew up a lot. I was a 31 year old divorcee with two young children, and desperate to regain a nuclear family. It wasn’t to be for me. My lesson was in all of this instead. To learn to be happy with what I have. It is so much.

I read hundreds of books on child development and parenting, I attended positive parenting courses at the council. I hugged my children, I told them I loved them daily, twice daily. I helped with homework, I helped at school, I did reading. I lived with very little money, in exchange for being with them and enjoying being their mum. You don’t need a lot of money to create fun. We used the library and toy libraries a lot. We exchanged books at the book exchange. We used nature a lot, and made food from scratch. Baked bread and made pizzas. Anything can e special if you make it so.

I had a few relationships over the years,  but the biggest lesson for me was about self love, and learning about healthy relationships.  It was not something that came naturally to me, and after a few years, I gave up my pursuit for a relationship and settled instead on male company, not necessarily casual,  but serial monogamy,  I guess.

My animals became a huge aspect of my life, and I have learnt about respect, mutual affection, security and love from them. Unconditional love. Lucy is one of my best friends, and while this may sound pathetic to some, she is a constant. She has been by my side for 14 years. She greets me at the door every day, comes when I need to hug her (when she feels like it), sleeps next to me, sits near me when I cry, has taught me about unconditional love and mutual dependency.  She is here when my children are not, and has been my substitute when my kids have moved on to seeing their dad more. She's helped me to sit with grief as I cry all over her perfect coat.

She has taught me about beauty, and femininity. She is a goddess incarnate, and she will be the hardest thing to let go of as she ages.

So how did I do it? How do I still do it? 

I found myself and all my gifts, that’s how. I am a good friend, a good mother, a nurturer,  a goddess.

I never knew any of this about me at 30. None of this would have happened to me if my life had not hit rock bottom. And I would have missed out. 

If you are a sole parent, or have depression, or are simply sad today, make yourself go for a walk and find something to be grateful for while you are at it. I am so glad I did. I still do. And I am forever grateful for this life.

SQUISHY, MUSHY STUFF and all that matters

What exactly does love mean in our society? It is not the first time I have asked myself this. I am not sure if it a very useful question but I think it is worth asking, for herein hinges all of the ins and outs of life, and in my opinion, the meaning of human living.

Love starts quite suddenly, like a lightning flash. Sure, it builds from affection and caring in some cases. But when you know you love someone, it strikes you with the power of hormones. Our natural instinct says that we must love. I assume other species do too, and this is the glue that binds generations together, the stuff that ensures that our species and every other manages to subsist and reproduce. Call it survival instinct, or maintenance of one’s genetic material. I call it love. The knowledge that one must do something (or do nothing) for someone else in order to ensure their happiness and therefore secure our own.

After 43 years of living, I have come to the conclusion that this is my purpose. It is the only thing that has kept me from doing unthinkable things to myself, to give up when the pain of life was too great. It is what I have chosen to do as a career. I am good at it, at nurturing, and loving our earth, all its inhabitants, including humans, to a fault.

I do not profess to be an expert, but I plan to perfect the act of love in this lifetime.

I get up every day and do my job. I often question what the point is, and I know now that the point of it is to love.

Not wishing for anything in return, or expect to collect later, but simply to love. The more I do it, the more it replenishes, like a never-ending supply. My heart has expanded rather than shrunk. It fills with compassion for disadvantaged people, for people who do dumb things, and working on loving the cruel and unjust.

But does love mean giving only? When we think about loving people, we think about giving of ourselves, giving patience, tolerance, hugs, kisses, time, conversation. And this is generally seen as very noble and compassionate and it feels good, right?

But what about receiving? Are we necessarily taught to receive love?

To ask for love?

I don’t mean the pathetic “love me” asking. But the love that we give has more meaning if it includes a bit of selfishness. It is somehow complete then.

By this I mean, do we ever ask ourselves what the other person can give us? My job is very much one sided. I give, and in return I receive monetary rewards, as I have to eat and all that stuff. But I mean, what does the love that I give my fellow people give me, my soul?

The answer is, that as a doctor, very little.

I have to actively look for the rewards. Often it’s the warm thank you I get at the door, or someone telling me what a lovely doctor I am, or how nice I am.

It is “nice” to be appreciated that way.

But that is not love.

It is a demand, an expectation. I am “supposed” to be nice. Right?
Not that this is a bad thing, it's just my job, which I enjoy doing, but it is not love. 

So in my personal life I expect different love, the love we all seek deep down inside.

The love that says: “Hey, I do not in any way expect anything from you in return. I am giving this love to you willingly, without demands, without boundaries, and without resentment. I am giving this to you because it feels good to do so.” When two people can do this for each other, then love is clear, and simple, and unhindered by time, space and age, and all the other crap that gets in the way in this world.

I know I probably sound like some birthday card message right now, but I think realizing this has been one of the most liberating things in my life.

I don’t need to expect anything in return, but boy, when I get it, it feels so good.

And that I do, in small ways, from my family and friends, and my animals. We have so much to learn from them. They love us regardless of anything bad we do to them, and when we love them without expectation or demand, they reward us with insane loyalty and admiration that doesn’t go away just because we left a plate unwashed or forgot to replenish their water bowl one day….

If we just take the time to listen, and understand, then people reward us in the same way, and people often comment on the harmony between my animals in my home, and our ability to communicate in interspecies bonds.

And I think that is what love is.

No matter what, I will continue to look for that love in my life. Whether I ever achieve it with one person is so far debatable. But it’s worth searching for until I die.

Dear Time

Dear Time,

I have only known your new year for a very short while but I feel like I know you already, as you seem very similar to other years I have had before. However, since I am a good sport, I will pretend that I don’t know you and give you the benefit of the doubt.

I only ask that you take my wishes into account for this year.

You see, I think that I need a different sort of year. I mean, don’t think I’m being ungrateful. I am very grateful for a lot of things in my life, and these are just wishes. I don’t want anything taken away, I want it at all as it is, but I just wanted to make some helpful suggestions for the future, and hope that you will take them into account when planning my trajectory for 2016.

I am not sure what sort of groundhog day loop I’m stuck in, but it seems that toughness, resilience and strength are the only things I need on a day to day basis, and I continue to be tested on them. I’m starting to think that this, Time, is a bit of a waste of resources when it comes to the events department of your, should we call it, company. You see, I think I have proven time and again how tough and resilient I am. I think it is about time that you focus on some of the other things that I am.

I am not trying to tell you how to do things, as I am aware that you will do as you please. But I think you should know that I would like my love and caring, and nurturing to be more of a part of my life. Test me on that, I think I deserve that for a change.

Maybe you’d like to test how creative I can be, or how optimistic.

I already have a sore foot to Rehabilitate, and I don’t want that to be the main thing in my life this year. It’s already taken too much precious time and energy.

I’d like you to test me on my softer side. I do have one, you know. I am just squishy in the middle, and I think I am starting to forget it, and others can’t see it either because it lies forgotten in some far away dream. I ask that you allow it to shine. Maybe my future holds a lovely man who wants to share my softer side, and not just see the tough exterior that has been so necessary for such a long time. Let me have enough money to meet all my responsibilities, but also have a lot of time and energy for fun, for carefree irresponsibility. I so long to be just a little irresponsible sometimes. Not in big things, you know I would never do that, but in little things. Please.

Keep my beautiful girls safe, you know I would give a limb for them both, and I can’t help but think; despite my scientific brain; that this is in fact a price I am paying, this is me giving a limb for them. And if that’s the case, I would gladly give a second.  So all of the above is null and void if I am required to give a second limb for one of those precious creatures.

But if not, then please think upon it. I am looking forward to this new year. I hope it will continue to be full of friends and family and good memories. I promise I will do my part and seek out things that may expose my softer side, and I will step more carefully. (Metaphorically and not metaphorically).

I thank you in advance, and hope that we are together for a long while yet.

Sincerely,

Me

My right foot

21/10/15

Sometimes when I look at my life, I feel like I am reading about it in the paper, or in one of those sensationalised magazines: ‘My bridesmaid is having my fiancée’s love child’ or something.

Maybe not, but now that I am sort of on the outside looking in, it looks kinds Jerry Springerish.

A single mum to two teenagers, who works FTE (1.2), runs a household, looks after 4 animals. She is renovating her house; the stove breaks down, leaving the family without a kitchen. Then she falls over and breaks her foot, which requires surgery. As a result, she is unable to stay in her house because of her ridiculous driveway so she has to stay with her mother. On top of this, she was due to start a new job just prior to the injury, so she is under pressure to return to work asap, but can’t drive, because it happens to be her right foot.  And she is unable to return to one of her jobs due to the circumstances.

It just sounds like something someone made up for fooks sake…..

Nevertheless, this has been an interesting opportunity to review my life from the outside. After all, the universe simply granted my wish to have a holiday from my life. Given that I am so busy, I never really have the time to sit and contemplate whether what I am doing is sustainable, or whether there are other ways I could be doing it. Plus, I often find myself with few alternatives anyway.

The weirdest thing, and one of the most valuable lessons for me is the fact that I don’t think I will ever be lazy again about things that I need to do. For example, washing the dishes, doing the washing. It seems that the perceived effort when I was healthy seemed over the top. Everything takes so much longer now, given that an at least a 6 point turn is required in order to get around any corner in the house. Walking to the shops, or cooking a meal just doesn’t seem onerous at all. The other thing I have discovered is that I love driving, and being able to have the freedom to come and go as I please. And also, no matter how much free time I have, I don’t spend all of it doing crafts or reading, I do find myself looking at medical journals (which I never have time to do) and writing.

I haven’t been short of things to be grateful for, and that feels great. My friends and family have been so nurturing, and helpful, and altogether awesome, and I feel so very lucky to have so many wonderful people in my life.

What seems clearest of all is that Wi-Fi is evil and will need to be restricted when we go home, and that my children need to do more around the house, not because I say so, or because it happens to be their dish, but because it is a lesson they better learn now, about living in a community and helping each other out. If I only ever did things for myself, I would still be in my backyard with a broken foot and no one to help me.

People are veritably strange, and I have greater compassion for people with a disability now. The number of people who are irritated by the fact that moving takes longer, or that I need a ramp or take up more room in a lift or on the bus is unbelievable. The number of people who roll their eyes at me, or tell me that I should be more careful or whatever is also astounding.  What do they think that I am ecstatic about it? Losing my independence, using a shower chair to wash, a toilet raiser to pee and take two buses to work, not to mention calling in favours all the time and being unable to pick my kids up from school?

Maybe my foot will heal and I will forget these lessons, but I doubt it.

Christmas will be a time to reflect on the 3 months prior to it, to be grateful, to regain all the losses, including a tall order of Rehab and further surgery to remove pins. I sincerely love my right foot despite all the challenges. 

Retreat into Myself

I have just returned from one of the most unforgettable 48 hours of my life. It so happened that my family bought me a gift voucher for my 40th birthday so that I could go on some meditation classes or a retreat. It turns out, (and I am sure it was not by accident), that the voucher was just enough for a hills retreat. I participated in a silent retreat, no phones, no books, no strict schedules. We had a cooking workshop (obviously voluntary) with an Ajurvedic chef. So I ate beautiful vegetarian food and spent time with myself, walking, feeling.

I am not new to meditation, I have done it before, and enjoyed it. I attended many sessions at the Buddhist Centre in Adelaide. I have been interested in Eastern philosophies and have taken a lot of the teachings into my life over the years.

But like everything else, I forget to do it. I get caught up in the moment, the hurrying, the hustle and bustle. And who doesn't? One of the great things about it is that I realised that I have incorporated some of the teachings into my life automatically. I wash the dishes purposefully and with awareness. I have learned to stop and say; "Can I get back to you on that ?" when I am feeling tired, rather than the shotgun; "I should say yes because he or she wants me there". I have learned to some extent to nurture aspects of myself that do not just need FOOD.

By the same token, I am somewhat frustrated by the fact that things I thought I had covered to death, I need to revisit and re-explore with more maturity, and more experience, and more depth. It just doesn't stop, and I think that is where I have gone wrong. I have managed to get my fitness regime going and have realised that it cannot be a temporary thing, but neither is the growth and development of my soul or inner being. Especially when life is not static, and my relationships and physical space shift me, toss me, and sometimes gently coax me into action. If I listen. And that is the crux of it. To listen.

But not just hear it. I am not sure if I am the only one who does this, but sometimes I hear the inner child, or the need loudly ringing in my ear, or my bed beckons, or I am starving or need to pee; and I simply choose to ignore it because it's just too inconvenient or too hard right now! So listening takes patience. And sometimes you just have to make the decision that you will ignore it temporarily but will get back to it before it is too late and the whole situation makes you sick. COUGH COUGH COUGH..... she says as she crawls back from the inner alveoli of hell...

So what I am getting to here is this:

I have decided that Facebook is slightly poisonous. And I know that the media app polarises people like Tony Abbott does. But I guess I have always kept it going because I accumulate so many people in my life and would like to keep in touch with them, as much as I can. And that is not always possible.

I find it terribly sad that recently because I have been busier than ever, I have stopped calling people and making an effort to connect. I mean REALLY connect. NOT on facebook, but on the phone, face to face, over a coffee. And I am lonelier than ever sometimes. My core people continue to be in my life and those are the ones I will continue to have real connections with, in real life.

And this is a survival tool for me. I NEED real people in my life, not pixels. Obviously, for those who live overseas or interstate, I will continue to keep in touch. I think I will slowly withdraw from this format, though. I want real connections, real warmth, real touch, real meals, real laughter, real visits, real shared times, real relationships.

And if you want my number, just ask.

Strength, vulnerability and Christmas love

It has occurred to me that there is a big difference between being strong and having feelings that make you vulnerable and make you human.
I think it was Buffy the Vampire Slayer who was the first person to ever make me think about this (;)), and recently I have experienced it first hand.
I have had to learn self reliance, yes. I have had to distance myself emotionally from my patients in order to cope with some pretty deep feelings. And maybe I spend too much time doing that. Maybe it is not a bad thing for my children to see me acting like a fishwife every now and again and losing the plot: not always calculated and measured. Maybe it's good for them to see that their mother is human, and vulnerable, and ok the next morning, like that oak tree.
I think the hardest thing is the feeling of falling in a whirlpool and losing control. Nothing a big cry and a sincere phone call to a friend does not fix.
Which brings me to my Christmas wish: I hope that this Christmas I can simply be thankful for all I have. Not the material stuff, not the stuff with price tags; but the knowledge that when I'm really in trouble, I've got at least 5 phone numbers I can try before I need to resort to kicking the punching bag. And my health, my ability to face another year with my health. reasonably intact. Thank you to all those I love, my family, my kids, my friends, my animals. Because they are what makes getting up every morning worthwhile. And if this makes me a little vulnerable and shed a few tears at Christmas, so be it. I plan to embrace my vulnerability in 2015. It's part of me. Love, Yellowfluff. ❤️fi