Thoughts on life

Somebody’s son

Driving home from my dance lesson tonight I saw flashing lights at the intersection I was approaching and felt annoyed at the assumption of road works.

The closer I got the more clearer the situation became…lights became tow trucks, warning others to slow down to avoid the two twisted car wreckage’s sitting in the road.

Duty and curiosity combined as I slowed to survey what had happened…I approached the white car that was sitting conspicuously and incongruently right in the middle of the intersection

White car

Pop up head lights

P plates

(Just like my sons car…)

Time seemed to slow as I wound down my window

Searching for a number plate that had seemingly been smashed off the car I caught a brief glimpse in the dark – as I passed through the intersection – of what looked like a shark shaped scratch on the bumper…

Distinct

Recognisable

One of a kind

(Just like the one on my sons car)

My sons car

OH MY GOD

Heart racing, thoughts gone cold, panic and realisation arrived together in my throat as I looked past the wreckage and saw a young, dark haired boy sitting in pain and shock surrounded by kind hearted witnesses to the crash and in that moment I saw my son

my car threw itself into a U-turn and took me back

I wasn’t aware of anything else but my son as I got out of my car

(My son)

My son?

Oh god please no, not my son!

The next 15 seconds were silently filled…

…by the sight of a number plate I didn’t recognise…

A black soft top roof..

A different car?

(Not my sons car)

NOT MY SON

A man standing on the verge, possibly drawn from his nearby house by the commotion asked me if I was okay?

“I thought it was my sons car…” was all I could say

Relief

Relief

Relief

* * *

“But it is somebody’s son”

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Thoughts on life

The persistent apology

“I’m sorry” is my constant

I’m sorry I’m not good enough, don’t achieve enough, do it fast enough…

I’m sorry I haven’t fixed all your problems along with my own

I’m sorry I’m flawed

I’m sorry I’m so bothered by being flawed…that I feel the need to apologise

I’m just sorry

…my self sometimes gives an apology just for being me…

I work with endeavour and purpose, integrity and grit, but still sense the “not enough” at the end of the day.

So I do more

Take on more

Apologise more…

Then I get sick and take a rest, but the banging guilt somehow feels worse than the thump in my head

Fear of disappointing (I’m sorry)

Fear of letting someone down (I’m sorry)

Fear of appearing weak or imperfect (I’m seriously fucking sorry!)

(I’m sorry I swore)

Decisions made for my own good come with a ransom I issue, from those who don’t understand…pay up one million apologies to keep the peace…or just keep your needs to yourself, ok?

Hurtful words burn and cling…guilt arises and binds…(“I’m….sorry”)

Others withhold care and accountability and, though they are the ones who are guilty…

It is I who hurts

I who cry

I who doubts

I who awaits an apology…

But the “I’m sorry” only ever comes from me

Thoughts on life

The sadness of a two slice toaster

Has an electrical appliance ever made you cry…?

Or even just a tad sentimental??

Ok, just me then…

I’m relaxing in the bath with a wine, as you do on a Wednesday night, flicking absent-mindedly through a discount store catalogue (“buy NOW!” why wait when you can finance??!” when I see it…

Page 7

Right hand side

Two little boys playing, and laughing, next to a bunk bed (“King single loft also available!”)

Oh my….it seems like yesterday my two grown sons were that “niddle” (My youngest never could that word properly lol)

We couldn’t afford fancy beds back then and the boys slept in clean but second hand, hand me down or cheap as chips from China “Pipeline” beds – and my heart stretched slightly north at the memory…

What we did have though was laughter and games, niddle men made out of honky nuts (you’ll need to Google that if you’re from anywhere but Australia!) silly shenanigans involving sweat pants pulled up over shoulders (try it…and then do a jig. Honestly it’s the best!!) and sleep filled eye deep and meaningful’s about Spider-Man and today’s plans over breakfast.

Trust me…even “Home brand” bread (lovingly cooked in the cheapest 4 slice toaster you could buy) tastes awesome when it’s being jammed into tiny, tooth filled mouths that are adorably laughing at their own fart jokes!

That poor toaster got used and abused! Often refilled 2 or three times to satisfy the four of us…

The best part was watching clumsy hands layer Vegemite, butter and jam so thickly and meticulously (eyebrows furrowed, little tongues stuck firmly out!) and then crying when their uncoordinated efforts to jump down off the toddler step while clutching their masterpiece, promptly launched the toast onto the ground. “Naughty toast!!”

Did I realise the beauty and magic I was witnessing at the time? Probably not…

…my eldest son moved out 2 weeks ago and my youngest son is barely home these days…

I’m proud of them and happy to see them living their own lives but you do forget that slowly and surely it is also your own life that will have to change a bit too…

It’s so gradual you don’t see it coming

It’s takes years and tears and milestones and growing pains and morning hellos becoming weekly goodbyes

It evades you and makes you believe you’re fine…

…until that one Wednesday night, when you’re aimlessly browsing through a catalogue and find yourself wondering if you should buy that shiny, expensive and brand new 2 slice toaster…

And your heart breaks

And you cry

Thoughts on life

Surrender

Breathe in…

let it go…

Breathe in…

…and let go…

The fight is tiring

The battle hard

It is silent

…secret

and scarred

Let it go…

But what then?

Control is my fiend

And my friend…

Breathe in

Let it go…

Trust and surrender

who I know

Exposed and in view

I breathe in…

and see you

Thoughts on self

Absence

I love my husband, but I love it so much more when he goes away…

I’m really brave writing that, aren’t I??? Considering he’s pretty much the only person who reads all my blog posts (well, at least I think he does)

Don’t get me wrong, I do love him…with every ounce of my being!

But hear me out…(dearest hubby and anyone else bored/foolish/strange enough to be reading this)

Being happy when he’s not here is actually a huge thing for me…

After years of struggling with crippling, infantile behaviour inducing, (and downright inconvenient!) separation anxiety, I am finally free and it feels amazing!

It took a long time, my friends.

Hours and hours of counselling and self reflection, steps forwards, leaps back and with the help of the unwavering love and patience of said husband who was both the unwitting cause and cure to my curse…I finally relieved myself of this burden.

There’s so much more I could say on this subject, in order to accurately convey the whole mess that it (and I) was for all those years…and maybe I will one day…

But for now, I just want to share this little piece of my heart…

To learn to be at home with your thoughts and completely on your own

The old so used and comforting but now a new way’s shown…

To embrace the space that comes from holding a healed heart

To know the joy of leaving fear as you behold your own work of art

When you feel safe and saved and brave…’cause you’ve seen the other side…

Knowing you are both the victim and the victor, the lonely child still inside

Darkness cruel and unrelenting in its bid to be your end

Battles fought and dragon slain, that most feared is now your friend…

Thoughts on life

Fault lines

You can’t see me, but it’s not your fault Your eyes are closed by fear of sight

Closed to pain

Closed to grief

Closed to reason

You can’t feel me but it’s not your fault Your arms are wrapped tight around your story

Full of reasons

Full of rage

Full of blame

You can’t love me but it’s not your fault as you can’t love yourself

Can’t love

Can’t reason

Can’t apologise

I can only hold me and all my fault

As I see myself
I also see you…

I see

I rage

I apologise

I question

I reason

I grieve

I give up

I hold me tighter, I see myself more

and then, because I don’t know what else to do…

I love us both

Thoughts on life

No white pill

Even the happiest of people get anxious.

Sane people

Normal people

People who do good

It does not discriminate but it does incriminate…

It can creep up on you like an unexpected headache, without reason or cause…when you haven’t drunk too much booze and know you’ve slept well and you really should feel fine…but suddenly it’s there…

And you just can’t understand why your head is throbbing?

Annoying at worst and curable by white pills as best…most of us would choose a headache over this sneaky, consuming and isolating grey haze that can threaten to steal our peace and happiness

…suddenly and uninvited the slowly haze appears…

The walls close in, the room grows small, there’s an echo in your ears

…all alone your companion now a dread of unlived years

As panic, heart beat, races, rises, unexpected fears

Emotions drown, you swallow down a lump of unshed tears…

You still do good

You still do normal

You still try to do sane

But there’s no magic white pill

Only grey…

Until happiness decides

to find you again