Archive for June, 2011

Even when you don’t want it to.  Especially when you don’t want it to.

Life is just going too fast, and I have some big decisions to make.  Scary decisions, that will probably upset people I care about.  But I need to start looking after me and the B-man first, and I need to trust myself to know best.

I don’t want to live here anymore.  So I’m going to move.  I need to rehome some animals – hard but necessary.

I don’t know where I am going yet.  I can take either one of two easy options, or I can go where I’ve always been drawn to.  Which will be harder than it has to be, but I feel we would be happier long-term.  I feel I could build a life if I do this.

People will think I am crazy, insensitive, selfish, eccentric but I am getting used to this.

I’ll be sad to leave here.  I love the friends I’ve made, my job and I like my house and lifestyle.  But its just not working without the you and me and baby makes three fairytale.  All I see here is what could have been, and what I wanted so badly.

If there was ever a good time for me to finally get my shit together, it would be now.  So I’m going to do it.


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Craig, of course.

I feel like I’ve had my heart ripped out, all over again. Until now, I hadn’t really considered life without him as a permanent state. Except for maybe in the first week.  Since then I’ve really thought it was just a temporary thing, that we’d get back together once the dust settled a bit, that he loved me and Bailey too much to let this be a reality.  Plus, of course, casual sex is never really casual.  I didn’t really think he would keep sleeping with me if he wasn’t intending on us working stuff out. I know, stupid.

On my birthday, he acted like a cunt jerk.  Sorry.  I’m tearing up just thinking about it.  He wouldn’t even give me a hug.  I should have asked him to leave at that point, because it got worse.  It was like nothing I said got through to him.  We ended up in a huge argument and me in tears in Bailey’s bed.  To top it off I was really unwell and fainted in the shower.  Sexy.

Still tried to make things better in the morning and now I wish I hadn’t bothered.

After that I thought ‘I’ll just leave it’. So I have barely spoken to him since then, didn’t ask him to stay for dinner on the weekend, haven’t asked him to help with anything, nothing. And y’know what, I don’t think he’s even noticed.  Which drives me crazy, because ‘just leaving things’ is hard for me.

It’s been two months.  I think if he wanted me he would have shown it.  I’ve tried to talk to him.  I’ve apologised sincerely for situations I could have handled better.  I’ve told him that I am willing to compromise on more.  I’ve said I am willing to forgive a lot and let go of a lot of hurt, if we can just commit to working things out.  I’ve told him I love him and am committed to this marriage.  I wrote him a five page letter.


See what I mean?


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26 today.  Years seem to be flying.  Craig’s coming up tonight so we can dinner together and watch a movie or something, so I am really hoping that goes well.  He was supposed to come up for the day but cancelled on me, which I am not overly impressed with, but not going to bother saying much about it to him.

I know its useless to compare how people treat you, but I can’t help it.  I think we all do it to some degree.  On Saturday I did something fairly hard and 2 of my friends called to check how I was doing, and one made the effort to cook me a special dinner and held my hand for about an hour.  Craig didn’t call, didn’t text, didn’t ask when I saw him the next day, and when I reminded him about it, wasn’t apologetic at all.

Constantly cancels stuff with me, isn’t doing counseling, makes little effort to spend time with me, never suggests anything, never has a definitive answer to anything.

Seems very much like a ‘he’s just not that into you’ type of situation, but if that’s the case, why did he marry me just 5 months ago?

I still love him….


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Yeah, I need to be more positive.  Or maybe just less negative.  I’m annoying the shit out of myself, let alone everybody else.  The problem is, I feel really really desperate in a way I never have before.  And yeah I try and hide it a bit when I’m talking to people but it seeps out.  And then sometimes I think “If you can’t handle me feeling like shit, just don’t talk to me”.  Because really, sometimes its just too bloody hard to smile and say “Yeah, I know things will get better” when there is absolutely nothing to base that on.

I know I will cope with everything, and I know I could cope with more (please god don’t make me cope with any more), but is it really necessary to seem happy with it?  And I only cope because it is the only option I have.  Not because I want to.

I know I’m not nice to be around at the moment.  Picture a feral animal, scared and hurt, snarling and lunging at the hands that try to help it.  That’s me.  Because this is the third time I’ve been told I need treatment for malignant tumours, and this time I am absolutely fucking shitting myself, and so terrified scared.  It is unlikely that I will die anytime soon from this, this time.  Everytime I come out of remission, the chances of complete recovery obviously lessen, and sometimes I just think, is this what my whole life is going to be? 

I have the most beautiful child in the world, and he makes things so much better, and so much worse.  Any mum will understand what I mean.  The anxiety I feel over Bailey is profound.  I never thought my marriage would fall apart so completely, and that I’d lose my health, within weeks of each other.  But if I can keep my son, and look after him, and nurture him and parent him properly, I feel like I can keep myself a bit too.  My grip on reality.  He’s my anchor.  If he’s exactly as he should be, I can cope.

Sorry this is all over the place.  Positivity.  I don’t feel like I can make more than a token effort at this point in time but I can appreciate things.  And I do.  Such small things affect me so greatly.  Dappled light coming through trees in the afternoon.  Bailey snuggling into bed with me on a cold morning.  Seeing my goats all fluffed up and curled together.  The smell of wood fires.  Green fuzz in the paddocks.  True friends who just accept me.

Just gotta keep on keeping on I guess.



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Caution – heavy subject.


I saw him, and it was like my mind could not make sense of the shapes in front of me. The room, half lit, the couch dragged across so it blocked the entrance to the kitchen. A slight creaking sound that reverberated through my mind. The smell of whiskey and tobacco with a coppery undertone.

And him.  Standing in front of the couch, wearing a blue flannel shirt, jeans and black socks.  His head at an odd angle, a mottled colour, eyes rolled back.  Not real, not real, not real.  The beam above his head creaking, smooth blue nylon rope with red and white flecks looped around it.

I’ll always wonder, how long did it take?  What was his last thought?  Did he pray?  Did he regret putting that noose around his neck the second after he jumped off the couch?

It couldn’t be, it wouldn’t work, because his feet are touching the ground.  Because he was alive 3 days ago.  Because I was about to drive him to the hospital.  Walk carefully towards him, reach for his hand, recoil at the coldness.

Last night, lying next to him, him stroking my face, me asking him why?  Him saying what I already knew, I was sick babe.  Running my hands over his stomach, him whispering, be gentle babe, scar tissue from the post- mortem.

Is it any wonder I wake myself up crying?


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Happy Birthday to my beautiful darling boy! Bailey is 4 years old today and I almost can’t believe it.  It does not seem anywhere near 4 years ago that I was handed a squirmy sweet smelling little bundle of blanket, and told by a totally overbearing midwife ” KISS YOUR BABY!”.  I mean yes, love at first sight, but not totally blind to the bits of ick stuck to his head.  The Dr who performed my caesarian said Bailey was probably the most alert newborn he’d even seen.  Right from the start he had these intense eyes that would just bore into you.  It was quite funny in the theater because 3 out of the 6? people were called Craig.

Craig.  My husband, although I suppose I could almost call him my ex husband, or my estranged husband.  I don’t know how we got here.  He is coming up for dinner tonight and staying over so we can talk tomorrow, and I am terrified.  I don’t really know what of – he has never gotten physical with me, and to be brutally honest with myself, if one of us were to lose our temper badly enough to get to that point, it would be me.  I’m worried and hopeful we might end up having sex, that I might end up in a complete mess, that he’ll end up saying its over but I really don’t know why I am feeling so genuinely terrified.

Today a friend asked me if I thought I would compete my young horse when he comes back into work.  It feels quite strange to say the question totally blindsided me, because it just seemed so far out of my reality.  I felt like she may as well have asked if I thought I might go and live in Africa in 2035.  And then I felt so so sad because I used to have  dreams, and goals and a life.  I used to really care about stuff and wish for more than being able to stay in remission, and to be able to afford to keep my house and everyone fed.  Life was about more than keeping my head above water.

So I made an immediate goal to get back to the point where I can consider what I might want, not just what I need.  I know its going to take time – alot of it probably.  Time for the C.A.N.C.E.R. to shrink, time for Craig and I to either get our shit together, or for us to part and for me to get my shit together.  Time for me to heal emotionally and physically.  Because I have been through alot, too much really and I am starting to realize the toll it has taken.  And yes, some of it I brought on myself, I have made some bad choices, but some of it was so far beyond my control I would never have imagined it happening in my life.

My head is not a happy place to be these days.


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