I'm really getting the hang of this Anger thing.
Everytime I start feeling a little sorry for myself I remind myself that The Man hasn't rung the kids, or paid his half of the bills...and then I whip of another job application and plan how I'm going to paint my kitchen and plant my garden.
My friend 'Seamus' is going to bring me home some rich, huge, lives-along-way-away Rig Pig to sleep with and then I'll be SET!
Tell you all about it then - LOL.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Crossing the Border of Craziness
Today, I crossed the line and...picking up my things from The Man's house, found a box that wasn't mine and snooped through it.
And I found just what I deserved - a letter to his married lover, a bottle of 'Eternity' perfume. The box says 'my Angel'.
I WENT OFF MY NUT! And he called me a fat psycho and told me I was paranoid.
It's not paranoid if it's real.
I said 'tell me or I take the letters to her her husband' and he said 'you're selfish, you're willing to ruin someone else's life'.
And I breathed and thought, 'it's ok, the man I loved no longer exists, it's ok to leave now and forget about him'.
I can mourn him because he is dead. The man I loved is gone.
The man I loved would never destroy someone else's family, over and over again, different families.
He no longer exists.
He told me 'we're strangers, you don't know me anymore' and that's true.
Because I thought it would get better, I thought he would choose good things for his future and mine and that of our children.
I was told today that 'idiocy is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result'.
I'm not going to be an idiot anymore.
I am going to cry for this broken love that never quite grew up into something real and go and be happy somewhere else, someway else.
And hope my kids don't inherit the 'fuck the world' gene that their Dad runs on...or the 'love is blind' streak that kept me stuck in crazyland for so long.
And I found just what I deserved - a letter to his married lover, a bottle of 'Eternity' perfume. The box says 'my Angel'.
I WENT OFF MY NUT! And he called me a fat psycho and told me I was paranoid.
It's not paranoid if it's real.
I said 'tell me or I take the letters to her her husband' and he said 'you're selfish, you're willing to ruin someone else's life'.
And I breathed and thought, 'it's ok, the man I loved no longer exists, it's ok to leave now and forget about him'.
I can mourn him because he is dead. The man I loved is gone.
The man I loved would never destroy someone else's family, over and over again, different families.
He no longer exists.
He told me 'we're strangers, you don't know me anymore' and that's true.
Because I thought it would get better, I thought he would choose good things for his future and mine and that of our children.
I was told today that 'idiocy is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result'.
I'm not going to be an idiot anymore.
I am going to cry for this broken love that never quite grew up into something real and go and be happy somewhere else, someway else.
And hope my kids don't inherit the 'fuck the world' gene that their Dad runs on...or the 'love is blind' streak that kept me stuck in crazyland for so long.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Tired, tired, tired.
How tiring it is, to find yourself in old grooves without trying.
How tiring to find that I'm back in this town talking about the same things, being the same person.
It's true, you can reinvent yourself sometimes if you break out of an old rut.
I am trying to - but I'm still coming up against people expecting me to be one way or the other.
I'm finally talking to people again and they're telling me what to do, again...like I don't know.
I'm not lost, I'm sad. Why is it so hard for other people to watch that?
Isn't that why I made such an effort not to show anyone for so long?
I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired...isn't that how the saying goes?
I want new things in my life to talk about, new challenges, less of the old hurts.
I wish I knew how to be better at that...I get so jealous that other people have that skill and I have to work so hard at it.
Jealousy...things I can do without in my life.
I'll have to remember that another time. Another place.
How tiring to find that I'm back in this town talking about the same things, being the same person.
It's true, you can reinvent yourself sometimes if you break out of an old rut.
I am trying to - but I'm still coming up against people expecting me to be one way or the other.
I'm finally talking to people again and they're telling me what to do, again...like I don't know.
I'm not lost, I'm sad. Why is it so hard for other people to watch that?
Isn't that why I made such an effort not to show anyone for so long?
I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired...isn't that how the saying goes?
I want new things in my life to talk about, new challenges, less of the old hurts.
I wish I knew how to be better at that...I get so jealous that other people have that skill and I have to work so hard at it.
Jealousy...things I can do without in my life.
I'll have to remember that another time. Another place.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Letting Go
My daughter told me this week that she'd rather have The Man and I together, and fighting, than apart.
Her sister suggested The Boy could go live with Dad and The Girl could go live with me, which resulted in The Boy crying in the night that he didn't want to choose when The Girl wanted to come home and he was asked if he wanted to go home as well.
I keep finding drawings of me and The Man and The Girl between us, with lovehearts bluetacked on doors and walls and the fridge.
Now The Man has told the kids that he can't take them away from me, because I need them.
Oh my God!
How much damage are we doing to these kids.
If there is a God, which I doubt, I hope s/he forgives me because I don't think my children ever will.
Her sister suggested The Boy could go live with Dad and The Girl could go live with me, which resulted in The Boy crying in the night that he didn't want to choose when The Girl wanted to come home and he was asked if he wanted to go home as well.
I keep finding drawings of me and The Man and The Girl between us, with lovehearts bluetacked on doors and walls and the fridge.
Now The Man has told the kids that he can't take them away from me, because I need them.
Oh my God!
How much damage are we doing to these kids.
If there is a God, which I doubt, I hope s/he forgives me because I don't think my children ever will.
Anti-Stupidity Forcefield
I'd like to be idiot-proof.
Would it be like the cone of silence?
Would a forcefield slam down between me and the blank-eyed woman at Woolworths, or my ex-husband's workmate who spent the last six months listening to how high maintenance I am, and then put his hand up my shirt the first time I dropped into the pub for a drink after The Man left.
I am going to imagine that shield clanging down like the doors to the batcave every time I'm smiling my insipid journalist smile at some racist stranger, or every time the girl at the supermarket whines 'how was your day?' when you know she really doesn't give a shit...kaching!
I can hear it now...kaching!
Would it be like the cone of silence?
Would a forcefield slam down between me and the blank-eyed woman at Woolworths, or my ex-husband's workmate who spent the last six months listening to how high maintenance I am, and then put his hand up my shirt the first time I dropped into the pub for a drink after The Man left.
I am going to imagine that shield clanging down like the doors to the batcave every time I'm smiling my insipid journalist smile at some racist stranger, or every time the girl at the supermarket whines 'how was your day?' when you know she really doesn't give a shit...kaching!
I can hear it now...kaching!
Idiot-proofing
If germ-proofing has resulted in the rise of deadly super-germs, what will come of making things idiot-proof?
My friends and I discuss this regularly - we're living in the age of anti-Darwinism where only the idiots are still breeding.
It's true isn't it?
The people you love, the ones you think are great parents with fantastic kids, stop at two, or even three.
Then you meet people with three kids to three different arseholes. (What happened to once bitten, twice shy?)
Or the woman I met recently with 12 children, who found a new partner when her teenagers stopped being eligible for pension payments - and found herself in hospital, in labour, at the same time as her 17-year-old daughter.
It's a joy to see them down the street together with matching prams, sharing a cigarette.
It's only just occurred to my family (not to mention me) that I can still have more kids.
And I'm sure, secretly, my parents have revived their dream of my finding a nice yuppie lawyer or international doctor.
And when I think about it I'm torn between 'ohmigod, then I'd be one of THEM' and 'maybe it's my genetic DUTY to breed a few more gorgeous, incredibly-loved kids'...to balance out all the sad, pension-sucking freaks who lined up with me at CentreLink the other day.
CentreLink scares me.
I need a new job like NOW so I never have to sit next to the incredible farting woman and the tooth-picking thong-wearer ever again!
Or a nice lawyer to breed with...LOL
My friends and I discuss this regularly - we're living in the age of anti-Darwinism where only the idiots are still breeding.
It's true isn't it?
The people you love, the ones you think are great parents with fantastic kids, stop at two, or even three.
Then you meet people with three kids to three different arseholes. (What happened to once bitten, twice shy?)
Or the woman I met recently with 12 children, who found a new partner when her teenagers stopped being eligible for pension payments - and found herself in hospital, in labour, at the same time as her 17-year-old daughter.
It's a joy to see them down the street together with matching prams, sharing a cigarette.
It's only just occurred to my family (not to mention me) that I can still have more kids.
And I'm sure, secretly, my parents have revived their dream of my finding a nice yuppie lawyer or international doctor.
And when I think about it I'm torn between 'ohmigod, then I'd be one of THEM' and 'maybe it's my genetic DUTY to breed a few more gorgeous, incredibly-loved kids'...to balance out all the sad, pension-sucking freaks who lined up with me at CentreLink the other day.
CentreLink scares me.
I need a new job like NOW so I never have to sit next to the incredible farting woman and the tooth-picking thong-wearer ever again!
Or a nice lawyer to breed with...LOL
Recovery
I've been cured of two ailments this week.
Firstly, the nasty RedBack spider bite whose venom was draining through my lymphatic system and turning my whole arm into an enflamed, swollen roadmap of envenomed veins.
A round of antihistamines cured that little affliction nicely, while my second illness - love of my lousy ex-husband - has been a little harder to shake.
Why isn't there a pill for that eh? Imagine if you could patent a 'getoverit' pill?
Fuck, it would completely outstrip rohypnol in the drink spiking stakes, I'm thinking.
Imagine being able to feed one of those to your ex.
I woke up the other night and suddenly there'd been a shift in my head.
All the wonderful, lovely things about our life had been shuffled to the background, and in the front was all the reasons I DIDN'T want to see him again.
All the nasty comments, the unreliable moments, the sad, angry exchanges, the disappointments and loss of trust.
And now, watching him rewrite our life, like it stopped being good on a single day makes me want to scratch his eyeballs out and feed them to him through his rectum.
So, instead, I'm going to go back to my falling-down crapbox house on a hill - that I love, and will take YEARS to get up to dinner-party-with-new-friends standard and raise chickens (if the snakes don't get them) and vegies (if the rabbits don't get them) and my babies (if the farmers don't get them).
I'm looking forward to starting my study, that sounds cool, and I'm going to have to take writing seriously and try and get a novel published...because I can't live with an orange kitchen and an avocado green missionary brown bathroom for too long.
At the moment, I need to take my contacts out before I go for a shower so that theclashing colours don't send me spiralling down into depression again.
Only two more weeks and then school starts and my life is back on track - without money, without a partner, but without a whole lot of fucking hassles as well.
Firstly, the nasty RedBack spider bite whose venom was draining through my lymphatic system and turning my whole arm into an enflamed, swollen roadmap of envenomed veins.
A round of antihistamines cured that little affliction nicely, while my second illness - love of my lousy ex-husband - has been a little harder to shake.
Why isn't there a pill for that eh? Imagine if you could patent a 'getoverit' pill?
Fuck, it would completely outstrip rohypnol in the drink spiking stakes, I'm thinking.
Imagine being able to feed one of those to your ex.
I woke up the other night and suddenly there'd been a shift in my head.
All the wonderful, lovely things about our life had been shuffled to the background, and in the front was all the reasons I DIDN'T want to see him again.
All the nasty comments, the unreliable moments, the sad, angry exchanges, the disappointments and loss of trust.
And now, watching him rewrite our life, like it stopped being good on a single day makes me want to scratch his eyeballs out and feed them to him through his rectum.
So, instead, I'm going to go back to my falling-down crapbox house on a hill - that I love, and will take YEARS to get up to dinner-party-with-new-friends standard and raise chickens (if the snakes don't get them) and vegies (if the rabbits don't get them) and my babies (if the farmers don't get them).
I'm looking forward to starting my study, that sounds cool, and I'm going to have to take writing seriously and try and get a novel published...because I can't live with an orange kitchen and an avocado green missionary brown bathroom for too long.
At the moment, I need to take my contacts out before I go for a shower so that theclashing colours don't send me spiralling down into depression again.
Only two more weeks and then school starts and my life is back on track - without money, without a partner, but without a whole lot of fucking hassles as well.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Spiderwoman...sans lycra.
I was bitten by a spider this week.
Sadly, I haven't seen any signs of superpowers yet, and I haven't miraculously developed abs of steel - although I must say, I'm nicely tanned from all this out-of-character outdoor work.
And, it's not like the spiders at The Farm aren't mutants - they most definitely are.
I wondered why there wasn't much evidence of mice after the house has been empty of people but full of books and clothes and open cereal boxes for a year.
Understanding came when I realised the spiders had grown so big they were trapping the mice and eating them.
Which explains the six foot snake we found in the shed - The Farm has turned into our very own 'Lost World' complete with its own ecosystem and giant mutants.
And speaking of Darwinism and survival of the fittest...
I have a new man in my life.
He's strong, reliable and not afraid to get his hands dirty.
Sadly, he's also 65 with 14 children, 35 grand children, and apparently...testicular cancer and a regular pension...although how we got around to that little bit of information I'm not quite sure.
But I don't care, I love him! Because in two days he battled a snake for me, offered to give me money (for all our - well he calls it salvage, I call it big rusty pieces of CRAP) and has already pulled down two of the sheds that block my view of the gorgeous Flinders Ranges.
One of his 14 children is a Sparkie (my NEW best friend) and another is a Plumber (best friend number 2 - sorry girls, you've been bumped out of sheer necessity).
I spent today on a white-sand turquoise-ocean beach today, feeling like a Danielle Steel character in my new flirty skirt, fluttering in the breeze, and well-behaved children running around me on the sand.
I had a book in my lap and a choice view of too-young-to-touch-but-lovely-to-look-at men (God, I hope they were old enough to be called men or I'd feel REALLY dirty now) and, for the first time in months, maybe years, I wasn't rushing anywhere.
So...I immediately SMSd everyone I know to point out how relaxed and laidback I was. LOL.
Sadly, I haven't seen any signs of superpowers yet, and I haven't miraculously developed abs of steel - although I must say, I'm nicely tanned from all this out-of-character outdoor work.
And, it's not like the spiders at The Farm aren't mutants - they most definitely are.
I wondered why there wasn't much evidence of mice after the house has been empty of people but full of books and clothes and open cereal boxes for a year.
Understanding came when I realised the spiders had grown so big they were trapping the mice and eating them.
Which explains the six foot snake we found in the shed - The Farm has turned into our very own 'Lost World' complete with its own ecosystem and giant mutants.
And speaking of Darwinism and survival of the fittest...
I have a new man in my life.
He's strong, reliable and not afraid to get his hands dirty.
Sadly, he's also 65 with 14 children, 35 grand children, and apparently...testicular cancer and a regular pension...although how we got around to that little bit of information I'm not quite sure.
But I don't care, I love him! Because in two days he battled a snake for me, offered to give me money (for all our - well he calls it salvage, I call it big rusty pieces of CRAP) and has already pulled down two of the sheds that block my view of the gorgeous Flinders Ranges.
One of his 14 children is a Sparkie (my NEW best friend) and another is a Plumber (best friend number 2 - sorry girls, you've been bumped out of sheer necessity).
I spent today on a white-sand turquoise-ocean beach today, feeling like a Danielle Steel character in my new flirty skirt, fluttering in the breeze, and well-behaved children running around me on the sand.
I had a book in my lap and a choice view of too-young-to-touch-but-lovely-to-look-at men (God, I hope they were old enough to be called men or I'd feel REALLY dirty now) and, for the first time in months, maybe years, I wasn't rushing anywhere.
So...I immediately SMSd everyone I know to point out how relaxed and laidback I was. LOL.
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