Love It

 Monday 10th October 1983 at 7am, I got on an Ansett flight to Kalgoorlie with 3 suitcases. Alone. Age 17. Not knowing what I was going to, but knowing I didn't couldn't stay where I was. One parent was trying to instill fear of the flight; her fear of being alone, of having a child fail at life, of where the child would be.  She even had a fear of my address being in a street called Nemesis. One parent told me I would always be ok, to go and live my life, and that I was loved. One grandma smiling silently and nodding as I was now in a career path she had followed over 60 years earlier in the Post Office. I never rose to the dizzying heights of Post Mistress that she reached, but she was proud. My first plane flight. My first room in a house not with my parents. My first experience living with others. So many firsts all hit in that one day and the weeks ahead. I tried to work out who I was as all I had done was care for others from the youngest age, and to people please to kee...

 For the first time this year on Mother's Day I'm the top of the food chain. I'm no longer a daughter, but I am a mother and a grandmother. What a shift in dynamics!  All my life I dreaded Mother's Day. It was Judgement Day in my mind. The day where no matter what I did, had done, or promised to do was not going to be good enough. My faults would be identified and glorified and my redeeming qualities paled into insignificance. The stress levels would rise to obscene levels and I felt physically ill. When I was younger I would attempt to outdo my previous years efforts in generosity. No point. I would over-organise and plan and create. No point.  The years between when my grandmother died and this year were the hardest. Grandma was the most appreciative woman and any efforts were highly rewarded and acknowledged. Her loss was huge not just to me, but I think to everyone who knew her. Even three decades later, people still say she was a star. So this year, I'm the old...

I guess you could say I'm an International Woman. I'm the product of two grandmothers who lived on opposite sides of the world. They were opposites in almost every way, and they shaped who I am from within. Firstly, the smiling, bead wearing, white haired energetic one. She saw little of the world. Her whole 96 years were lived in a very small part of the world. She never travelled on a plane. Her train rides were never more than 200 kilometres. Her car rides the same. A couple of bus rides did take her almost 400 kilometres. She worked, she married, and she had 3 children. Her sisters and brothers were her best friends and always lived nearby.  Her first son was stillborn, but she always talked of him with love and never bitterness. She was so loved by her family, friends, and it seemed sometimes by people she had just met. There was only ever a bright side, and an attitude of get up and go. Wise, funny, stylish and cheeky. I spoke to her at least once a week until she was on ...

 How many people do you need around you to feel safe? Interesting question? I was told by someone once that they hated being alone. They would go to the shopping centre and walk around rather than be alone in their house. They didn't want to ever be alone. I  struggled with that theory. I wondered what was in their head that they constantly wanted to flee and what was their magic number of people they felt safe with? Being an only child I was literally alone but never alone. I had nobody to share my lifestyle with. Everyone jumped in and said that I was lucky, spoiled, had everything. That idea is the fairystory version of being an only child. In my case, one parent who had issues, and one who created them.  I couldn't hide in my room because that would be invaded constantly. The sound of the door scraping on the 70's shag pile carpet is still in my head. The quiet "What are you doing?" with no answer ever being acceptable or appropriate, or to be honest even hear...

 Today marks a year in a very special relationship in my life.  While it's normal to celebrate a birthday, and I am very much celebrating that birthday; this has been a year of a new relationship with myself. I'm celebrating that too. A year ago I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to love this person because of one single 3 letter word. How incredibly stupid is that? But I was absolutely terrified. I'll explain. That 3 letter word represented, and to a certain extent still does represent a truck load of negative emotions. That word belongs to a relationship that was based entirely on transactional love not unconditional love. I wanted unconditional, but I got transactional. And by it's nature that is not love. I've learned that this past year where I have processed so much of my past and laid the groundwork for my future. That 3 letter word represented pain, frustration, anger, distrust, failure, fear, hurt, shame, and in varying degrees every other negative...

 I have been asked to do something I don't want to do. It's because of what's in my head. I don't know how to show someone what's inside my head. That's what trauma is you see. It's inside the head. Nobody can see it. A physical injury or trauma leaves a scar which tells a story which in turn needs no explanation. You see a bent and twisted, scarred and marred leg and if the person is quite jovial and engaged you can even make a joke. We've all seen it done.  "Bet there's a story behind that one mate!" "Well yes my friend there is, want to hear about it?" The ensuing conversation can take different pathways. The scarred one could make up a brilliant story of a shark wearing a beanie carrying a golf stick and chances are that because the wound is so visible, the listener will believe it! The answer is often "You should see the other bloke". Why? Because a visible scar is just that. Visible.  No explanation needed, we can ...

 I was thinking recently of childhood memories of the Fremantle area in Western Australia. It was so normal to see older European women wearing black. In all seasons of the year. I asked about it once of my Grandmother who was Australian and of English descent. She explained to me that they wore black because they had lost someone dear to them. A death of a loved one bought out the black clothing for a year. I heard others say that they should stop doing it because it was old fashioned, and even because they smelled bad wearing black in the heat. That was the most ridiculous reason ever in my mind even as a child.  After the year I had in 2020 on a personal level I began to question why they would wear black for a year to show the world they were mourning. We have become so used to mourning being a private affair that we have lost sight of how helpful it is to show it publicly. These women weren't proud of it, they didn't wear it as a badge of honour, or to get sympathy. It wa...

 So I've been thinking about feelings. Or maybe feeling about thinking? It came about when someone said "But you know I love you".  What an interesting statement! It assumes so much. Way too much in fact.  Let's call the speaker Person 1 "Feeler" as they have already stated they feel something.  Let's call Person 2 "Thinker" as they have obviously thought and questioned the validity of the feelings. Let's break down the short sentence from Feelers perspective.   But - Sounds like an argument really, they are disputing what Thinker has said, and they have a different view point. It's a positive one in this case, the feeling being one of love.  But is in a small way counteracting that as it's giving a positive emotion in a negative form. What does a child say when you make their favourite cookie and they're not in the mood "BUT I don't like it today!"  How do you feel when you hear the word But? I've heard it too...

 Such a simple phrase that just does not do justice to the amazing man the world lost yesterday. When I was little my Dad talked about his family in Slovakia to me. They didn't have names, he just said "my sisters", "my brother" and "my parents" and so I didn't gain a connection to them, they weren't mine, they were his. He never spoke of my uncle, aunts or grandparents. I find that sad now.  At the same time I understand why he claimed them as his. He  missed them and missed them terribly.   Dad left home as a child really to be a Partisan fighter during World War 2. The family were in a situation that movies are made of and books are written about. Life was so challenging. One of my aunts died just after that war, and for most of it both Dad and my Uncle were presumed dead. I feel my Grandmother's pain to this day. It's called inherited grief. So, my Uncle was a prisoner in the Mauthausen Concentration Camp. He survived that - somehow...

So it begins as all others. Feed the cat, fill the cats water bowl, clean the cats litter tray, jump in the shower. Get dressed, clean the kitchen have breakfast, check social media. Yep same old same old. Then realisation of Mothers Day. The offspring live in other places, and are busy with their lives and work, and that's OK. Then the following realisation that there is an older generation. One I haven't seen in over 4 months now through choice and through isolation. One I have not had positive feelings for in 50 years. One I have had a duty to my whole life, and one I no longer wish to have a duty for. To put it simply I hate Mothers Day. Every feeling of inadequacy that was instilled into me as a child, teenager and adult woman about every aspect of my life just bubbles to the top.  It's also something m men don't understand and having 4 of them in the family makes it an interesting situation every year. It's so hit and miss. Some years a beautiful gift,...

So last week's dread turned to excitement, joy, and some more dread. The message received for the joyous occasion also had the name I despise in it, but I have managed to separate the new person from the old. Just. I think. The usual public announcement was made, and I want to acknowledge with every bit of gratitude and love and respect and appreciation to those granting that name that they omitted it from the public announcement. To just see one beautiful, cherished name was more relief than joy and excitement. I cried with the sheer relief that it wasn't in the public realm. That dread of public joy and praise while I felt such incredibly negative feelings was huge I can tell you. And that dread of something was paralysing me for a while too. I also used the "it's your news" to get out of telling the original name holder the new one had arrived.  Call it what you want, but for me it had to happen. Not that it actually crossed my mind to pick the phone up. ...

So today is a day I should be extremely excited. Today is an incredibly special day. And I'm struggling. Why? I should be just plain happy. I should be putting all negative thoughts out of my mind. I should be constructive and joyous. Instead all the feelings I had a few months ago when I found out a special persons name have flooded in.  That name will go out in the public arena for the first time. All the great things that others think of that name will be blazing around me like flames around Joan of Arc.  My anxiety about that person with that name are in full glorious overdrive right now. And my balanced mind says that they are not important. My anxiety says I'm not important, therefore I have two sides of my brain agreeing for all the wrong reasons.  The person who gains that name I already love. I will do anything for that person. Literally anything.  I cry with the love I have for them and I haven't even seen or held them. And yet the original holder...

We have a few friends and family who have died. Yes, everyone has.  Our special ones don't have their final resting places near us so we can go and spend time there though. Some don't have any physical monument to their existence. Or they are in another country.  So we made our own. It's the Chopping Board Wall of Fame!  Seriously.  Each one has a quote on a Chopping Board hung on the wall near our patio in the garden. We can raise a glass to them and sit and look at their board just as we would sit and perhaps look at their headstone. So what do we have? One of our best friends boards says "Is this how you want to live your life?"  It was directed at a young man who hadn't washed his bathroom floor!  Hardly poignant or pivotal. Or was it?  That dirty floor was a sign of accepting being the victim of something grotty. Wading through dead skin cells, fur, hair and unspeakables to do the daily ablutions was not how anyone would actually choose to...

Totally and utterly GROSS! Right?  Who starts a blog with a kitty litter tray?  Me! Why? Because it's the definitive smile in tough times. I have no idea why I took that photo. I really don't. But sometimes when faced with a challenging situation, a gross situation, or to be blunt a shitty situation, you just have to smile. Surely in today's reality of the world's health crisis, this is what we need.  Perhaps a Tilly Turd is the ultimate representation of life as we know it. So this has been my solution to dealing with the behind the scenes challenges of life pretty much since I can remember.  I lived in a household as a child where it was no bed of roses. If you have read earlier posts then you have an idea.  If you're currently not feeling bright and chirpy, then now is not the time to go and read them. We are constantly told by the community that a trouble shared is a trouble halved, that we can rely on our friends.  I wasn't raised like th...

I always knew that this change I'm undergoing would be a roller coaster, but I'm not sure I was prepared. Not sure I had my crash helmet & leathers on for this bike. At the same time it's going OK. Change is healthy, but I had always anticipated that like all changes I've had this would be a reactive one. It would happen when someone near to me died and I no longer had to endure the face to face contact. Somehow I thought it would be this butterfly out of the cocoon style change that I wouldn't feel.  Bah Bong! Wrong!  Instead I made a conscious decision based on information I received that showed me I had been hiding so much of a pained past from the people who I loved more than anything in the world. Who loved me. Actually loved me even when I didn't feel it or see it for myself. And then the ride started. I admit the ride is slowing down the past few weeks as the changes become the normality of life. The highs are getting higher and the lows not so ...

What's your bridge?  I know I have had a few to get over. The old saying "build a bridge" has such huge connotations.  Firstly, it's us who need to build our bridges, nobody can do that for us. Then we have to decide where and when to build it and why we want to. We have to decide how strong it has to be - does it need to be used regularly? Or is it a once off and burn the bastard at the other side type of bridge? One of my biggest bridges was my weight. I used the bridge of food to build a bond with a toxic person in my life. It was what we did when we celebrated, commiserated and consoled. It was incredibly unhealthy - the food and the relationship. The weight issue that resulted from that food was another source of bonding, or creating a similarity, and having common struggles.  I believe now that I had a fear that if I lost weight, stopped eating the bad foods and regained my health - actually make that gained health as I'd never really had it - that I w...

Yesterday I walked to the end. I've been to the end of my rope a few times, so yesterday walking to the end of a lovely jetty was really a great experience. I'd done it before, but just felt like I wanted to yesterday. I saw where I lived from a different perspective, from a direction not many bother to go and investigate. It's not far, about a kilometre to the end. There's seats there too and it's really a beautiful spot to go and have a think.  Lots of birds of all different kinds too. I met 2 couples walking dogs, one little one, and one big one called Troppo who was so excited about life. I guess because it's been a few weeks of very rapid growth. Speed dating my demons I called it one day. Putting the feelings I have about someone with a particular name into perspective before I meet a new person who may share that name. I needed to reorganise my mind so that I didn't connect the two. So lots of introspection and lots of thinking, along...

I wonder how many times I've said those words. Probably the best way to describe that would be the good old "If I had a dollar..........."  For these words, I'd be living in a riverside mansion I reckon. This morning I was wondering why. The scenario that came to me was that of helping my kids. I've tried to as much for them as I can without making them into needy dependants. I've succeeded in that I think. There are three kind, considerate, caring and extremely capable individuals walking the earth. I'm so proud of them. Yet I still offer to help with tasks that I know they are more capable than I am of achieving. It must drive them mental. They must think to themselves "Oh crap! Why does she do this?"  So I thought about why I do it. Their reaction is theirs to own, but why do I do it? So here's an example of where I wanted my parent to parent-up and do the damned job. To ask if they could help. Damn it. I just wanted them to help. To...

Today the day of love and romance. Of flowers, treats and special moments.  I love Valentines Day. I really do. It’s rare I haven’t been treated like a queen on this day by the most amazing man in the world. In my current introspection state of 2020, it is making me think deeper.  In the shower of course. Most of my deepest thoughts are there because it was one of the few places I could think as a live at home junior adult/child. Not for long, but there were moments. So unconditional love.  I’ve heard it said by people who leave their partners within a relatively short time. I’ve heard it said followed by the word “but” which always negates everything before it. I’ve heard it said by someone I know didn’t mean it, thankfully not to me. I have loved unconditionally and I do love unconditionally. I often say to my kids I love them totally. I like that word better.  It says it all.  There is no part of them I don’t love.  I love their tempers, their faul...

I must be getting older! My recovery times both physical and mental are getting slower. A car crash has left me with some painful areas that I never thought I would have. It's limited my activities and busy-ness of life to a small extent.  That's a double edged sword as it's given me time to think as well. Thinking is good when you are removed from a toxic influence as you start to see things more clearly and more calmly. What I've found most interesting is my level of exhaustion.  A lovely lady I know lives in a frenetic household due to a family member with a disability. She made a comment about exhaustion levels when adrenaline and cortisol (flight or fright hormones) subside after a particularly long bout of action.  I realised that since not being in contact with my major trigger person that these levels that have been heightened for years have started to subside. So I'm feeling tired. I'm having to lower my action levels due to back pain and the tw...