Life on the hill: 2013

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Rebound

" or·bit

1. a. The path of a celestial body .... as it revolves

around another body. "

Caught in each others orbit

circling around.

Oblivious to the outside...

its noise, an annoyance.

The pull - sublime.

The elliptical spinning - thrilling

and ...

dangerous.

Caught in another star's orbit.

Our gravities - entwined.

Slowly, gently, disentangle the tendrils,

each one bouncing back to its rightful place - my heart.

Realign my celestial body

to revolve around my heart.

It deserves to be loved,

admired, praised ... adored.

I can not love another ...

until ...

I learn to love myself

... again.

Writing to still the noise in my head

I have so many thoughts and ideas swirling around in my head. It feels like it is going to burst in a kaleidoscopic mess. One thought doesn't end before it shoots off in another tangent. Another thought, another tangent.

The noise in my head is deafening.

But to look at me, you would think there was nothing going on inside. Sometimes - often - I look void of ... everything. Feelings, emotions, thoughts.

While inside my head a cacophony plays.

To still the noise in my mind I realised that I need to write. It doesn't matter what I write. I just need to write. I haven't been writing. I haven't been doing anything. I have been in a form of stasis.

Is this how a caterpillar feels? When it slows down, spins its cocoon around itself and disappears within? Does some innate sense signal that the change is complete, that the only way to still the noise is to break free of the safe haven it created for itself, stretch its new butterfly wings, dry them in the sunlight and take flight?

********************************************************

I saw my therapist today. She reminded me of something that I had forgotten.

I am responsible for my happiness.

I think its time to start nibbling my way out of my cocoon.

Image credit

Closed for business

For reasons that are too painful to write about at the moment, I have decided to step away from the online world.

I wanted to say thank you to all the people in cyber space who have supported me on my journey. Whatever way I have interacted with you online, thank you for your encouragement and kind words. They have always come when I needed them most.

What the future holds for me and mine is anyone's guess. I just know that for right now this is the best decision for me and my family.

Until our paths cross again, remember -

“Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle” J M Barrie

Soul sisters and silver linings

In case you haven't noticed, things have been pretty full on for this single mumma of late.

For the last 3 months, I have been a fire fighter. Since March, when I was notified of the parole hearing, the universe has continued to light fires directly in front of me to attempt to extinguish.

My relationship with the man I gave my heart to (reading that post makes me cry) broke down. In reality, it started breaking down the moment we began residing together. Truth be told, I'm not surprised. Hurt. Sad. Surprised - no. The reality is that I really moved to Brisbane in order to give my daughter a home again, and the opportunity for her finish school. I knowingly took the risk that my relationship with M had every chance of not succeeding. But life is all about taking risks. I had hoped that the outcome would be different.

I truly couldn't have gotten through the last few months without the championing and support of my soul sisters. Without their belief in me to come through the other side, I would have probably fulfilled the underlying burning desire to jump into my car and drive far far away - leaving all it, my children included, behind.

Every single day I reminded myself of the silver linings that happened because I moved in with M. I had a job that I loved, I started connecting with other bloggers in real life. Opportunities to use my voice presented themselves on more then one occasion. Both Nathan and Aston were at better schools, that were going to give them both opportunities that they wouldn't have received if we had stayed on the Sunshine Coast. And lastly, but so not least, I have been able to connect to services that are essential for my daughter, and for our family.

Recently, I have been accused that it's not enough to have positive affirmations, profound quotes and sayings, if you're not practising them. I believe that I do. I falter and fall over. But pick myself up and keep going. Faltering, floundering and falling over, are not signs of not practising what I believe in my heart. For me they are signs that I need to stop, breathe, look and listen.

For the last few months I have worn around my neck a necklace made and given to me by the beautiful Naomi from Seven Cherubs, a fellow warrior woman and soul sister.

never never give up!

It's been this mantra that has gotten me through. Because I. Don't. Give. Up.

While the universe has always put fires in my life, and there have been times I have wanted to lie down and surrender to the darkness that I have been fighting, or to run away from my life, it has also put beside me beautiful people to help me through the battle.

Silver linings. They are always there. Just sometimes we have to blow away the smoke, wipe away the burnt and look again.

Messages for me done by another beautiful soul sister

Fragmented

I can feel myself fragmenting

Piece by shattered piece.

To be put back together

Like a puzzle, battered and chipped in places,

The picture still beautiful when complete.

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Too little... Too late...

I looked down at my phone. There was a text from him.

"I miss you so much!!! I'm sorry for everything vicky. LYC "

I pressed the lock button on the phone and threw it in my bag, momentarily thankful, after it hit my bag on the floor, that I'd spent that $90 on a case. It allowed for me take my second of frustration out on an inanimate object.

Too little ... Too late.

That was the thought in my head.
Not sadness. Not anger. Irritation ...
Hurt...

I gave you my heart. And you didn't honour, respect or care for it like you promised you would. I know, that just like me, you are only human and make mistakes. But a fundamental difference between my humanity, and yours... I treat people with kindness, and care, and love. And that doesn't make me weak or stupid. It makes me compassionate. Forgiving. Loving. Caring.

My view of the world won't be dimmed by someone else's negativity. If they are on a mission of self destruction, and choose to slap the hand of kindness and love away, that is their choice. Mine is to remove myself away from the slap, forgive but not forget.

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Disconnected

Going through the motions,

Doing the best I can.

Feeling disconnected,

From my body. From the land.

A thousand pictures shows

Keep running through my mind.

I don't want this track to keep playing,

I thought you were of my kind.

I tremble, not with ecstasy

Not like I once did.

I tremble with the unknown

Of things that I have hid.

There is a weariness in my body

That I haven't felt in the longest time.

Don't surrender to it Vicky,

Don't walk that dangerous line.

Tales from my table: Mum what's an alcoholic

Lots of conversations happen around my table between myself and my two teens. A lot of them I have to put my mother hat away, and put on my "I'm just having a conversation with two teenagers" hat. The difference is I have to emotionally detach from being their mother.

Recently one such conversation involved a discussion around alcohol and alcoholism. Laura declared that she thought her father was an alcoholic. I was surprised, as when he and I were together that's not a label I would have given him. I asked her why she thought that. "Because when he gets home from work he will have a couple of cans of JD, or bottles of beer."

When my teens father and I were together, he was more in the habit of binge drinking. You know, go out, get smashed, not drink until the next time. We met when I was 19, so it was clubbing, socialising, dancing, and general misbehaving. By the time we had Laura and Nathan, he would have the occasional beer after work.

Later Nathan asked me, "Mum, what is an alcoholic? Because I don't agree with Laura. I don't think Dad is!" I told him to look it up. I felt a written explanation would give him better information then I, and also information that was less emotive on my part.

So he did.

al·co·hol·ism

noun \ˈal-kə-ˌhȯ-ˌli-zəm, -kə-hə-\

Definition of ALCOHOLISM

: continued excessive or compulsive use of alcoholic drinks

a : poisoning by alcohol

b : a chronic disorder marked by excessive and usually compulsive drinking of alcohol leading to psychological and physical dependence or addiction

I asked him if after reading that whether he thought his father was an alcoholic or not. Nathan decided that he wasn't. And I agreed.

I looked at him and asked, "Do you know anyone who is like that?"

He looked at me, our eyes connected in collective recognition, "Yes."

My reply. "Yes. Yes he is."

Pretty much what my recycle bin looks like on a bi-weekly basis

Boy to Man

He is always going to be my first born son. I just have to get my head wrapped around that he is now a young man....

Playing along with Trish at My Little Drummer Boys

A Rack of ... wait... what? Chicken?

(Product Review - this is not a sponsored post. I was gifted a $30 voucher and 'Rack of Chicken' to try. Opinions are my own. Authentic and with integrity.)

Working both at home and at the art and craft store, means that dinner at my house is, on some days, complete madness. I'm exhausted and the last thing I feel like doing is cooking.

Ever since I went to the Lenards function in February I have been trying out their tasty morsels. Because I have liked their Facebook page, I get regular notifications of any specials and new and upcoming products. A item always in my freezer now is the chicken jumbos, a great alternative to a meat patty on a burger, and so easy to cook!

My two teens regularly cook in my house. Getting chicken from Lenards decreases the time and effot required to prepare dinner. I can confidently ask either Laura or Nathan to cook, knowing that it isn't going to require any supervision from me. That way I can sit down quietly with a cup of tea and recoup from the day .... Yeh, right! I wish!!

On Monday 10 June, Lenards are launching a new product - ‘Rack of Chicken’ in Tomato Chilli and Maple Pecan. My family was recently sent one of each of these to try ...oh, ok, if I must! :) Regular BBQers in this house, (we have five - don't ask) and cooked the 'Rack of Chicken' on the weber.

They were delicious - moist, tender and tasty. I will be definitely getting them again. One 'Rack of Chicken' would comfortably feed 2-3 adults. The kids found the Tomato Chilli a little too hot for their liking, but the adults enjoyed both flavours. I can see myself standing at the counter unable to decide which one to get!

Am I the only one who is so exhausted that come dinner time all you want to do is cook toast? How do you make dinner time easy at your house?

I spoke the truth

The truth will set you free.
The irony of this statement is that it was the only good advice my father, my abuser, gave me.
Today I will speak on the radio about how important it is to educate your children about sexual abuse and how to keep themselves safe. I'm free

From about the age of two, every now and then Laura and I would read a story book called Yummy touches, Yukky Touches. It was a book that had been given to me from my counsellor when I asked her how I could teach my children about sexual abuse and how to take care of themselves. It was a simplistic book, with simple drawings, and simple concepts. Themes easy to recognise for a young child. It talked about how you feel on a lovely sunny day compared to how you felt sitting in a hot car on a sunny day. One, you feel yummy inside, the other makes you feel yukky inside. It talked about five people, like your five fingers, that you could tell if something was making you feel yukky inside. As a parent you would discuss with your child who those five people could be.

It was great because it gave her and I a common point to start from, in language she could identify with. There were certain people in our lives that made me feel uncomfortable - 'yukky' inside. I made the choice that I would rather err on the side of caution then not listen to that uncomfortable feeling inside because someones feelings were going to get hurt. I am her mother. Its my job to protect her and teach her to keep herself safe.

One day when Laura was five, she and I sat together playing with play dough. It was lovely to spend time with her, one on one. Having a little brother meant it didn't happen as much it used to. It also provided the opportunity to have a conversation with her that we'd had from time to time. The yummy yukky chat. We would talk about the book, and who the five people were that she could talk to. Sometimes they changed, most of the time they were the same five people. People that I had very deliberately placed in her life. Mummy, Daddy, Sam, Sharon, Granma.

We had been talking, and had moved on to other things, what could we make, what should we have for dinner, just generally playing. Then, from out of nowhere, Laura looked at me and asked, "Mummy, when you were a little girl, did someone touch you?"

I froze.

My internal dialogue argued as to what my response was going to be, screaming all at the same time OH MY GOD!!!!!

I had made a very conscious choice when I had children that I would answer their questions truthfully, age appropriately, and if felt that they didn't need to know right now then I would say that. Not Lie.

OH MY GOD!!!!!

The pause between Laura asking me the question, and my silence was long enough to prompt her to ask me again. "Mummy? ... Did someone touch you?"

I looked at my darling innocent child, torn between telling the truth and wanting her to remain in a world that was safe, full of fairies and magic and bad stuff didn't happen...

I spoke the truth.

"Yes. ... They did." (and exhale...)

She looked at me, with those beautiful blue eyes, "Why did you let them?"

I took a deep breath. "Because no one ever told me that it was OK to say no."

She got up from her chair, came and sat on my lap, wrapped her little arms around me, giving me a big cuddle. My beautiful girl, who taught me what unconditional love meant.

Last Wednesday I did something that was huge. I used my voice. I spoke my truth, in about as public arena as I have ever been in. On ABC 612 with Steve Austin.

When Naomi from Seven Cherubs contacted me asking if I wanted to do something in educating our children about how to keep themselves safe from sexual abuse my answer was a resounding YES! My own experiences led me to seek information on how I can keep my children safe from the moment I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. Its information that I passionately feel needs to be shared, over and over, and over again.

Sexual abuse is not a warm fuzzy subject people want to talk about. Because it's not, it is even more important that we are having these conversations, sharing information, educating our children. We teach our kids how to stay safe on the road, the right foods to eat to look after our bodies, how to not spread germs when you have a cold. Constantly, every day, we have opportunities to teach our children something about the amazing world we live in. Yet, so many of us balk when it comes to discussing with our children how to keep themselves safe from predators.

Do they balk because they don't know how to approach it? or have a mentality it won't happen to my child? or because they would rather not look, don't see? It could be any of these reasons, all of them, or something completely different. My plea is don't balk. Walk outside your comfort zone, and educate YOURSELF so you can educate your children.

Bravehearts is a valuable resource for parents. Want some facts? This PDF is full of them. They run an education program Ditto's Keep Safe Adventure Show and have resources available to buy through their online shop.

There is a myriad of children's picture books that can be used in a safe, healthy way to share information with your child. I have listed three below:

The Right Touch A Read Aloud Story to Help Prevent Child Sexual Abuse by Sandy Kleven
Everyone's got a bottom by Family Planning Queensland
My Body Belongs to me by Jill Starishevsky

I looked at the catalogue at my local library. Two of the above books where available to borrow. So check out your local library if you don't want to buy one.

Nathalie over at Easy Peasy Kids also has some great resources - this blog post talks about teaching your children how to say no

Seven Cherubs has also written 10 Tips to protect your children from being sexually abused.

I can't thank Namoi, Amanda and Steve enough for the opportunity to stand back in my power. I'm back from that place of fear. I'm not going anywhere. I have a voice, and I'm going to use it.

If you want to hear my debut on the radio click here to get taken to the podcast.

Please re-share this. I will never ask you to share a post of mine every again. But this one. Please.

This is as real as you can get. And because its so important to me to reach as many people as I possibly can I'm joining up with Jenni from Story of My Life May Challenge - Day 20 of Blog Every Day In May. Get real. Share something you're struggling with right now.

I'm going to tell you a secret, but if you meet me in person you are NOT allowed to do it!

There are lots of things that make me feel uncomfortable. But for the sake of brevity (and the fact that I have already posted FFS Friday I will tell you all of one thing that makes me... (oh I'm shuddering just thinking about it...) uncomfortable. No, scratch that. It makes me feel physically ill.

I loathe, detest, and despise Jelly. (For those of you reading in America, I'm referring to Jello, not Jelly, otherwise known here as Jam.)

I know. It may sound completely crazy (and lets face it, if you have read anything else on this blog of mine, its stands to reason that some of my idiosyncrasies can be considered a little crazy), but I really can not stand it. Thinking about it. Looking at pictures of it. The smell of it. The way it wobbles, glistens, all smooth surfaces.... ughhhh.

And of course, people find this fact a delightful form of torture for me. My kids, and friends (nice friends eh?) will wobble it on a spoon near me, laughing at my reaction.

When my children were small, I would make it for them - reluctantly. When it came to serving it, I would have to do it through closed eyes, gagging all the while. Now, they kids make it themselves, and gleefully chase me around with a spoonful of it, wobbling at me.

Right that's it. I can't write another word about it. It's making me feel sick.

Do you have something that makes you feel so uncomfortable that you feel like you going to throw up? Something, that to other people, is a very normal thing?

Playing along with Jenni - Story of my life Blogging every day in May. Today's prompt:

"Things that make you uncomfortable"

I often read Dear Baby G FFS Fridays. It a weird kind of way it makes me feel better that the snap shots we see of other peoples lives aren't all photoshopped in amazingness. Not because I'm glad that they are having FFS moments, but because it puts my FFS into perspective. In reality life is full of FFS and wonderful moments. And because I choose to look at the half full glass most of the time, and push the FFS moments done, they often don't get acknowledged. And sometimes that just isn't healthy. We all need the opportunity to vent and release, in the hope that by doing so the negative energy those FFS moments are causing will dissipate.

Well that's my theory and I'm sticking to it FFS

The man I live with lost his job on Monday, along with fifty other guys FFS

Which means that after 5 weeks of being at home after taking voluntary redundancy, and less then a week back at work he is at home AGAIN FFS

Which means he is going to drive me bat shit crazy FFS

I need a fucking holiday BY MYSELF FFS

It ain't gonna happen FFS

I want a massage, a pedicure, a facial, a manicure and I want someone else to organise it and pay for it FFS

That also ain't gonna happen FFS

My daughter informed me that she has changed her mind AGAIN about going to schoolies FFS

I hate the fact that I can't do anything about it FFS

I am having trouble going to sleep, staying asleep, and having horrible nightmares FFS

This makes me a cranky irritable person to be around, and if one more person asks me whats wrong I may just explode FFS

You are so right Sarah - this is cheaper the MOFO therapy!

Turn on your creativity. Its in all of us

When I lived on the house on the hill, there was a huge play room. A place for my children to play, and hang out, and a place for me to create. Its the only place I have ever lived in that allowed me easy access to the things I use to create. I had a table, and book cases, and space for my easel. It was wonderful.

When the children were at school, I would put on music - anything that my heart desired, and paint and paint and paint. I have lost count of the number of times I have heard people say 'I couldn't paint if my life depended on it'.

You see, I believe that everyone has the ability to create. In some form. Be it sewing, crafting, sculpting, writing, painting, drawing, craving... you get the idea. It is only the individual who limits their ability to create. I had a number of friends come and paint with me for the day. Armed with a canvas, and a sense of 'I can't paint', they would come to the house on the hill, and stand in front of their empty canvases, too frightened to put paint on it. To frightened to let go of the logical side of their brain and let the creative side take over.

I would be madly away in my creative world, and they would still be standing looking at their blank canvas. Covered in paint, paint brush or palette knife in hand, I would guide them over to the stack of art magazines and books I have. "Here. Look. Stop thinking so much about it, and just look for somewhere to start." This would always end up being the point of departure for them, and they would start to paint. Timidly at first, then with more abandonment. It was wonderful to observe.

For me, creating - specifically painting - is soul feeding. It helps restore my equilibrium. For many reasons, I stopped painting as much as I used to. Since I started working in an Art and Craft Supply Shop, my desire to paint has been reignited and I am creating again. And that is a wonderful thing.

Todays prompt is "Educate us on something you know alot about or are good at. Take any approach you'd like (serious and educational or funny and sarcastic)" I KNOW that everyone has the ability to be creative.

Easy Peasy Carbonara Sauce

On the days when the thought of cooking dinner makes me want to run away, instead of calling for pizza, (because seriously have you seen how much pizza delivery is these days??!), I call on the quickest, easiest meal I can make. It's so easy my teenagers make it. (Actually the gangsta teen makes it the best, but shhhh, don't tell the teen queen).

We always have bacon in our fridge, or ham. And always mushrooms, Parmesan cheese, and eggs. Pasta is a staple carbohydrate in my house. (When you have two sons that never seem to stop eating, I'm always looking for cheap filling healthy food.) More often then not, we have thickened cream as well, but sometimes this is the one item I will implore on the gangsta teen to bike to the local IGA to get for me. Good lad that he is, he always does.

Last night was one of those dinner nights. So pasta Carbonara it was. Every single time it's made it's scarfed down like there is never going to be food provided again.

The basic recipe I use is from Taste. I love that site. I love the app even more! Anyway... Where was I? Oh yes, the basic recipe. If I have left over chicken I will put that in, or sun dried tomatoes. Added bonus is that its a cheap and cheerful recipe that fills the masses.

This is the basic Carbonara sauce:

INGREDIENTS
2 teaspoons olive oil
200g sliced pancetta, roughly chopped (I always use bacon)
3 garlic cloves, crushed
2 egg yolks (at room temperature)
2 eggs (at room temperature)
1/2 cup thickened cream
75g Parmesan cheese, finely grated (I use packet grated Parmesan cheese)

METHOD
Heat oil in a large, non-stick frying pan over medium heat. Add ~~pancetta~~ bacon and garlic. Cook, stirring, for 5 minutes or until ~~pancetta~~ bacon is crisp. Drain on paper towel.

Cook pasta as per instructions - I use whatever is in the cupboard.

Whisk egg yolks, eggs, cream and three-quarters of the Parmesan together in a bowl. Season with salt and pepper.

Add egg mixture and ~~pancetta~~ bacon mixture to drained pasta. Season with salt and pepper. Toss over low heat until well combined. Serve with remaining Parmesan.

Buon appetito!

The tale of two sisters

Once upon a time there were two sisters. The elder one was born as the result of a liaison between a troubled, angry young man of 21, and a confused, lonely, vulnerable young woman of 22. After 3 months of the angry young man not leaving the lonely young woman alone, (staying in his car to sleep in the front of her home - oh my god, does anyone else see the alarm bells right now!!) they married. Within these three months the angry young man had already physically assaulted the lonely young woman once, in a drunken rage. The miraculous conception of me - I mean - the elder sister also occurred.

When the elder sister was born, the lonely young woman felt a love so strong that it birthed within her the protectiveness of a lioness, and she was able to leave the angry young man behind. Alas, that angry young man had the persistence of a wasp, and targeted the lioness, becoming an angry thorn in her side - and the confusion, loneliness and vulnerability leached in, and poisoned the courage that the birth of her daughter had instilled in her.

The angry young man wanted another child. At all costs. The lonely young woman had left and come back, left and come back - so many times already. She could not, would not, bring another child into this situation. So she discreetly applied methods to help that to not happen - but it seemed the universe had other plans, and the younger sister was conceived three years laters. Amongst chaos, drama, violence, terror and fear.

From the womb she felt these emotions ebb through her mother's blood into her own.The angry young man was a musician, and moved where ever he could get work. Home was a caravan and caravan parks - like gypsies they trawled the east coast, occasionally residing in houses. The lonely young woman fell deeper into the black hole of depression until hope of any other existence ceased to exist. The younger sister grew within the lonely young woman's body, hearing the shouting rage, feeling the violence that was going on beyond the walls of the floating world she was in. The sense of danger was so strong that she firmly entrenched herself within the lonely young woman's womb, her feet blocking the exit. Regardless of the younger sister's reluctance to enter a world that was full of anger and rage, the forces of nature took over, and she was expelled from the safety of her mother's womb.

So began the tale of two sisters, and the journey they went on as children of an angry violent young man, and a confused, lonely, vulnerable young woman.

Jenni, at Story of my life has set the challenge of blog every day in May. I would like to be able to say that of course i will, but its highly unlikely. I like the prompts she has given for each day. They appeal to me. There are prompts there that I think I will find cathartic.

The first is the story of your life, or an interpretation. This is the story of where I began.

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Sunset.. Sunrise... All the same to him

I miss this place so very very much....

But my little man taught me a valuable lesson last week. He woke early, came into my room and said "Mum have you seen the sunset? Want to come and look with me?" (Sunset... Sunrise, it's all the same to him. It involves the sun.)

Beauty is everywhere. Sometimes you just need someone to remind you to look for it.

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Like a ball in pinball machine...

I said it aloud today.

I am afraid.

The fear that has been rolling around in my head. The fear that shot out of the ball chamber, ricocheting off alarms, pinging off buzzers, like a pinball machine. Except there is no exit. The ball of fear just hits another bumper, spinning off on another tangent, hitting another alarm.

He is going to be released, and he is going to come looking for me.

I wish saying it aloud, writing it down, made the fear feel less. But it doesn't. It feels very very real. It clutches at my throat, makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, my skin crawl within.

I want to run away. Disappear. Change my name. Identity. Place.

How can he still create so much fear in me?

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Can't see the forest for the trees (and other cliches)

image credit

Even though I like to consider myself a relatively intelligent person, sometimes I can't see the forest for the trees.

For the last couple of months I have felt like the medication that I take to help keep my anxiety disorder under control, hasn't been doing its job. I've experienced this before, and have usually undergone a med change. It seems that I am one of those lucky people who a particularly type of anti depressant works effectively for 12 to 18 months, then, for whatever reason, it stops working.

After hitting the wall last week I knew I needed to make an appointment with the doctor. My reluctance to do so before now is part of the whole anxiety cycle for me: anxiety increasing because meds are working - anxiety about having to change because changing over is such a pleasant experience - anxiety that I have to take the fucking things at all!

Its wasn't until someone asked the right question that I was able to make the connection between an event, and how I have been feeling. As I spoke to the doctor, explaining how I have been feeling, he asked me what had happened in the last couple of months, what had triggered the change. I answered, thinking aloud, I've started working and juggling that has been interesting, but I love where I work.... I'm having problems in my relationship but my anxiety was spiking before that started.............

My breath caught in my throat, my chest constricted, tears tipped over my eyelids... Fear ran ice cold through my veins.

The parole hearing. That was when anxiety started shadowing my every move. When my limbric kicked. Again.

FLEE... FLEE...FLEE...

Such is the joy that is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

The demonic monster that resides within

Sometimes, no matter hard you try, the fake-it-'til-you-make-it veneer cracks, and the raw, ugly, confusion, sadness, anger, and any other damn negative emotion that you have been desperately fighting to keep in, erupts.

Slowly at first, a trickle, tears sitting on the rim of your eyelids, that you frantically blink away. Then you head starts to thump. Probably from all that gritting your teeth you have been doing for the last few weeks - a grimace that you pretend is a smile. Noise, even the tapping of the key board, starts to make your skin crawl from the inside. You rub at it frantically, but the sensation doesn't stop. Your agiatation increases. Questions from the people you love and care very nearly turn you into the scary monster that you work so hard to keep at bay.

Mum where's this? Mum can you ...? Mum, he's ... She's...

for fucks sakes just LEAVE ME ALONE

The crack widens to a gaping hole. The force of pent up emotion spews forth like water bursting through a dam. You recognise that the monster within is about to swallow you up and replace you with it's spitting venomous ugly prescence. You battle with it, running frantically to your room to let the monster bellow and spit it's poison, hissing at the people you love as you flee.

Anxiety. The demonic monster that resides within me.

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Worlds and atlases

No pretty pictures.

Just words. Words that will probably make no sense.

My veneer is rock hard. Underneath, I'm shaking. The internal dialogue is rife with questions and anguish. Punctuated with a lot of shhh... Shhh... Breathe....

I'm heart sore. Again.

I think I must be attracted to dodgey salesmen. Ones that promise the world, but deliver faulty atlases. At least if it was a decent atlas I might be able to use a map to navigate my way out of this mess!!

Being with your best friend, feeling alone, and missing them madly all in the same beating moment is soul shattering....

In a nut shell. Where I am right now.

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Thank you

Image credit

Well, this is a little embarrassing.

I was very surprised to receive an email the other night notifying me, that one of YOU, my lovely readers, nominated me for the Best Australian Blogs 2013 Competition. This is an initiative of the Australian Writers' Centre.

The People’s Choice Award is now open. Which means YOU can now vote in the competition until 5pm on Tuesday 30 April 2013. While the entrants to the competition needed to be Australian, voting is open internationally.

So, if you feeling that way inclined, click on the button below and select Life on the Hill.

Thank you to whoever nominated me. You made me feel very special.

Affirmation art doodles

Playing along with Trish for wordless Wednesday

My Little Drummer Boys

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Branded.

There are some dates that are branded into my brain. Seared into the soft tissue, a deep, dark ugly scar.
21 March is one. 18 October 2013 is another.

The first is the man that is my fathers birthday. The second - the day he is eligible for parole. It marks 9 years that he has been in prison. 9 years from when 12 complete strangers believed me and sentenced him to 12 years imprisonment for the abuse he committed against me.

How did that nine years go so fast? Why is the monster still even alive?

Today I finally contacted the victims registrar to change my address details. Something I've been meaning to do for the last six months. Something my mother has reminded me to do numerous times. Something that I kept putting off.

I called the registrar, as grown up Vicky. The woman I spoke to explained the process, but after her telling me the date of his parole hearing, 16 August, 2013, my body went into flight response. When I hung up, little Vicky had arrived. She was biting her nails, holding her breathe, trembling.

I walked out to the lounge room, M looked at me and before I could say anything, asked me what was wrong. Through my tears, I asked him for a cuddle. He came and held me and asked again. I explained what I had just done. He kissed the top of my head, "Let's go an lay down and have a cuddle," he responded.

I curled my body into his embrace and cried. "How has it been 9 years? How is he still alive? He was supposed to die ... I want him to die..."

As I lay there in the safety of his arms, I wrapped my own around that small child within. She is not alone. I am not alone.

Naomi over at Seven Cherubs talks about being a victim, a Survivor, a thriver. Most of the time, I'm thriving. Sometimes, like today, I feel like I am only just surviving. There is a lump in my throat. One that hasn't been there for a very long time.

Fasten your seatbelts ladies and gents. We may hit some turbulence.

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Looking for fairies and unicorns, when all I can find are ogres and trolls

It's strange the things that trigger me. I'm still surprised when it happens. The come back from where the nightmares live is quicker, but the residual feeling of general irritability remains.

Aston handed me this morning a worksheet that requested information on significant events that have occurred in his life, starting from age 1 through to 5. My initial reaction was to freeze, and dive into refusal to participate. A 100 images and memories played through my head in microseconds, none of them appropriate to put down on my 6 year olds time line. My internal dialogue was screaming I don't want to fill out this fucking worksheet!... Fuck you R for being such a c..... %#&$*!!!!

I had to physically look through photos to coax memories other then trolls and ogres. My breathing stuck in my throat, as I searched for fairy and unicorn moments. I found them, eventually, as the kaleidoscope of shattered images filtered through my mind rapidly.

I'm irritable now. Annoyed that I feel like this. Annoyed that there were ogres and trolls at all. Why can't it all be fairies and unicorns?

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Doing the chicken dance while hat juggling

(Product Review - this is not a sponsored post. I was gifted a $50 voucher. Opinions are my own. Authentic and with integrity.)

When I had children I made the decision that regardless of their sex, they would be self sufficient when they left home. And that means being able to cook something other then toast! Laura can cook independently, but doesn't particularly get enjoyment out of it. Nathan needs a little supervision and guidance with some dishes. He is building up quite a repatiore of recipes now, and enjoys cooking. My returning to work has provided the perfect opportunity for my two teens to each cook once a week.

It was with this in mind that I accepted the invitation to a recent blog function with Lenards. To have a look at some products that would be easy, and delicious, for my two teens to prepare for dinner. The opportunity to meet up with some other Brisbane bloggers was also very appealing. I wasn't disappointed on either front!

It was wonderful to connect with some gorgeous Queensland bloggers, and be treated to a yummy lunch prepared by the Lenards team. I had a great day, and left with a full tummy, and lots of ideas for Laura and Nathan for future dinner preparations.

I was gifted a $50 voucher from Lenards. All the dishes I got have been delicious, easy to prepare and most importantly, enjoyed by everyone in the family. I've been back for more, and have filled up my freezer with some recent specials. Our favourites at the moment are the chicken jumbos - perfect replacement for a meat pattie in a hamburger. If you haven't already, check Lenards out. If your time short (something that I'm finding myself suffering from a lot of lately!) but want healthy, nutrious meals they are certainly worth it.