Through the eyes of my child

I'm sitting there, watching my children play, in the front yard. I must of told them both a hundred times "put your hats on guys", "be careful with what you're doing", "slow down". Neither of them with a care in the world.  I sit there watching my 5 year old use a swing set, not the way in which it was intended.  "just swinging is for babies mum!" she proclaims to me as she climbs up the top of the A frame and hangs upside down, before finally finishes doing a back flip off the thing. Every dam time, my heart skips a beat. She's a wild child. Always has been. I constantly say to her father "how we have not ended up in the Emergency room with her and some broken bone, is totally beyond me!". I mean sure we've had scrapes and bruises etc but nothing too serious *touch wood*.  As I watch her doing her backwards mickey flips, and running down the slide - as opposed to just sliding down on her bum! I get to thinking. Wouldn't it be so awesome to live a day without fear. To be a total free spirit like a child. Not constantly thinking of the consequences. "what if" this or "what if" that. Just living in the now, doing flips off an A frame. She doesn't sit there analysing every little thing that could go wrong with what she's doing. She doesn't think to the future. She just *does* it.  Last week whilst performing one of her swing stunts, she fell face first into the dirt. Landed pretty awkwardly on her neck and grazed her nose. I was absolutely mortified. She of course was beside herself crying hysterically (more because I think she gave herself a bit of a fright). But after cuddles from mum and reassurance that she was fine, she dusted herself off and went straight back to those swings, doing her crazy acrobatics that she does.  For most people, they would find nothing interesting about this. But for someone who suffers from an Anxiety Disorder ... It's something to envy!  Anxiety feeds off instances like that. Someone suffering with anxiety would of fallen off that swing, and then for the foreseeable future avoided anywhere with swings and the possibility that the same thing could happen again!

Even though my Anxiety is the best it's been in a while - I still have the over thinking part that comes with it. Over analysing every situation. Trying to predict what *could* happen. It's a bloody hard habit to break! As any sufferer knows. But wouldn't it be fabulous just for one day to just get on that swing and hang up side down without even thinking twice?

Verbal Vomit

This is one of those times where I definitely need to blog to stop the noise in my head! Might even get some sleep rather than being awake all night pissed off about it!

So, past few weeks, mum has been getting a shit load of tests done.  We're now waiting for confirmation of whether or not she has Leukemia. It's shitty as hell.    While I love my mother, we have a long long history and at many times it has been very unpleasant between us.  We've put alot of that aside, in the past couple of years but she still really really bloody gets to me. And I let her just walk over me and annoy the hell out of me because frankly, I can't be bothered with the drama of confronting her AND she doesn't own her behaviour. So in the end I end up getting more upset because of it.  So why has it come to a head, now?

I've started my Diploma of Early Education and Care. I am sooo excited about it. Have been for weeks and was counting down the hours to when I could actually start on Monday! My sister was so supportive and just as excited I was. Which was just how she is! .... My mother on the other hand? Not.one.word.  She can't say she didn't know, because the woman is on facebook all the time, I can't even fart without her knowing and then ringing me straight away to ask me about something she's seen on facebook.  So I knew that she knew, but she didn't say a word! When she would call up, nothing.  But yet, my brother (the apple of mummy and daddy's eye. The baby. The angel) goes to college, and I hear ALLLL about how proud of him she is and how fucking fabulous he is. Blergh.     After about a week, she finally brings it up on the phone and this is how the conversation goes (I shit you not):

Her: So. You're studying
Me: Yes, I'm so excited about it. I started this week
Her: So it's childcare then?
Me: Um yeah it's a Diploma of Early Education and care
Her: Oh. So it's childcare. And you're doing it to be a better mother?
Me: Um.... no? I'm doing it so I can work. It's not just childcare- I can work in child services, be a director of a child care centre.
Her: Oh, I figured you were just doing it to be a better mother, cause you're always complaining about what a hard time the girls give you. The course will help you with that, yeah?
Me: Uh, yeah I guess so? (meanwhile I'm thinking, who the fuck are you to talk about being a better mother when your track record is very long and very sordid)
Her: Oh no not a director.. that's alot of study
Me: Um, no mum that's the course I am doing. It's 3 years.
Her: Oh yeah but being a director is hard. You should just do the childcare bit.

Wow. Thanks for that vote of fucking confidence. I get it. Aim low.  

What upsets me the most is all I ever want from mum and him (my father, who hasn't spoken to me since Christmas) is their support and love and for them to tell me they're proud of me. How bloody hard is that?! You're my parents FFS!  But I never ever get it. And for the life of me, I can't understand why I still let it affect me. Why do I keep expecting anything different? Like I keep waiting for just once they would say they are proud of me. What more do I need to do? I own my own house, I have two children, I'm in a long term relationship, I'm studying, I'm a good person.  Why do I still let it get to me. I shouldn't care whether or not I get their acceptance.  And if it was anyone else, I wouldn't. But it's my parents. And after ALL the bullshit they have put me through, you would think they might just be parents for once.  And I want to say all this to my mother but now she's going through all this testing and shit. I can't.  And tbh, I have said stuff like this before and she manipulates it to make me feel shit for saying. So there's no point. Maybe it's just going to be something that comes with age? I dunno.

Ramblings ....

Yep, it's been a while between posts. You know the drill, life gets in the way- blogging sometimes takes a back seat. Although, I do like to hope that maybe this year I will try to do it more. Even if no one reads it, I think it will be good for me to get my thoughts out.

I had all these plans today, of what I would write about when I sat down tonight.  My weightloss journey, the fact I start my study this week, moving back to Brisbane. All of which, have of course, been marred by the passing of one of the most well known women in Australia, Miss Charlotte Dawson.  I don't even know where to begin to be perfectly honest. I don't know what is more sad. The fact her depression got to the point where she felt no other option but to take her life, or that she had these disgusting *trolls* online, telling her to do it, who lets face it, probably wouldn't even care that she did actually do it.

It did get me thinking though, about people's views on things like suicide and mental illness.  And how opinions vary and change.  Today while I sipped on my coffee staring blankly out into the backyard, watching the rain, I remembered how there was a time in my life when I was quite young (probably 14 or 15) where I didn't seem to have my own opinion. My opinion was basically anything that my parents said. Their opinion was what I thought. I guess, kids are sponges right?  I had all these views about things I had really no idea about. My father is probably one of the most bigoted human beings around. So alot of his views were drilled into me. He's always been very vocal of his views. And the minute you disagreed with them, you were a stupid c*** (sad to say, things have not changed in this instance - and as a result we have not spoken in months).  So in my young mind I couldn't wrap my head why anyone would ever commit suicide. Why they would be so selfish- and hurt everyone around them.

Turns out, leaving home at 17 would of been the best thing that could ever happen to me. I finally learnt the words empathy and compassion.  Growing up and dealing with my sexual abuse and other delightful facets of my life, I began to self medicate with drugs and alcohol. To me, that was what worked. I was fine! I didn't ever let my problems get to me. Lots of people have bad things happen to them and just move on. Right?  How wrong was I.  The moment I was first diagnosed with Anxiety and Depression- I knew. I knew why people got to the point where they couldn't go on.  I learnt why people cut themselves, not to end it, but just to be able to *feel* something other than the thoughts inside their heads. I was one of the *lucky* ones (and i use that term so very loosely. For lack of a better word) I clawed my way back. I worked dam fucking hard to get my way back from a very dark and scary place.

I know that there, sadly will be people like my father, out there today who don't give a fuck about Charlotte Dawson, her struggles or her decision to end her own life.  There will be those that say she is a coward for what she has done. I don't doubt that.  Although I obviously didn't know her personally, I know that out of her death there will be something positive to come. We hear of children/teenagers all the time ending their lives because of the struggles of life or the horrible trolls that we come across daily but now it's someone out in the public eye. An adult. Who had the world at her feet. I know that out of this, people will stand up and say enough is enough. Enough Stigma about mental illness. Enough calling people horrible names. Enough fucking bullying. And more than just ONE day a year where we say to the people we know and love, R U OK?  People of the world- stop being so god dam rude to one another.