When Friends Go Weird

This is a hard post to write. It is one I have done a lot of reflecting on. At the back end of a tumultuous year like no other in my lifetime of 37 years, it seemed appropriate to post it now. As much as I'd like to believe it, I doubt when the clock clicks over to 2021 that these problems will magically disappear.

As fear of COVID-19 gripped the world, one of the repercussions has been the rise of conspiracy theories. These have always been around, but now social media, anxiety, and an increasingly unstable world have seen them gain new followers - ones who I would previously have never believed would have become entangled in things like this. I have at times felt devastated as it became glaringly obvious on Facebook that more and more friends had 'gone down the rabbit hole', and no amount of reasoning would convince them it was a terrible mistake. Suddenly anyone not with them was against them - we were 'living in fear', 'enslaved to the government', and needed to 'wake up'. COVID didn't exist, or at least was a lot less dangerous than the media was reporting. We were going to be forcibly vaccinated by Bill Gates and microchipped. The government was putting fluoride in our drinking water to damage our 'third eye' and make us docile and obedient. We shouldn't be wearing masks or staying in our homes. It was all part of a government plan to turn Australia into a dictatorship.

I was more scared of these people, my friends, than I was of the virus.

How was a longstanding friendship going to survive these bizarre beliefs? When lockdown ended and we could meet in person again, would I have to endure long-winded rants of how I was a sheep and needed to be 'woke'? Would every topic suddenly become an elephant in the room?

The scary thing was that some people were not just saying they believed these things, they were actively changing their lifestyle in accordance - in ways I could never imagined some people would have just a year earlier. This included no longer vaccinating their kids, planning to homeschool (presumably because the school wouldn't enrol their kids if they were unvaccinated), buying expensive water filters so they wouldn't have to drink tap water.

But then I started to consider how it must have looked to my non-Christian friends and family when I became a Christian. I know for a fact that many of them thought I'd become 'weird', that they were worried I'd been sucked into a cult, that I was living out my faith in big life decisions, rather than it being a passing fad. They must have been scared, they must have thought they'd lost me, they must have wondered if they could ever have a normal relationship with me again, they must have worried I'd bash them over the head with my Bible at every opportunity.

Maybe all this conspiracy theory stuff will be a fad for some friends. I truly hope so. I was talking to a good friend of mine who is a nurse in mental health, and she thinks the anxiety of being in social isolation has messed with people's minds. I'm inclined to agree. I also know that some people who are really into conspiracy theories also have bipolar disorder and, because of their beliefs regarding health, often refuse to take the proper medication for it.

I've also realised that rather than running in fear from some people because of their passion and outspokenness, I could use these opportunities to speak about Jesus. If they want a platform to speak about their great love, then they cannot refuse me the chance to respectfully speak about mine. Then I pray they will know what true freedom is, that trusting God in all things, means you are not living in fear.

2019: The Grieved Bystander

I’ve popped in to type a rare blog post as the final hours of 2019 ebb away.

This year has been hard. While nothing absolutely terrible has happened to me and my immediate family, it has been a year where my heart has been heavy. Sad circumstances and change have hit those I care about hard, and I’ve felt their pain. Sometimes I think I’ve felt more pain than they have. While I’ve grieved over the bad choices I’ve witnessed others making, they’ve seemingly skipped along, thinking that they’ve made wonderful decisions.

There have been more separations and divorces than I can count. Some have been Christian couples. The family breakdowns have hit my town hard as the wives have left with the children to (usually) head to Perth. This has meant less kids at the school and a loss of friends/acquaintances. One of Rory’s besties is one of these, but Rory has taken it pretty well. I don’t know why, but divorce really affects me emotionally (my parents have been married for 45 years, so it's not that I'm from a broken home). I think I was more desensitised to it when I was younger.

We lost Duncan’s cousin’s husband and a friend who used to go to our church – both to cancer. They both trusted the Lord and their witness in their final days was a great encouragement. I hadn’t been to a funeral for ages, yet went to two within eight days, both just before Christmas.

I’ve witnessed God’s amazing hand in bringing a couple of young adults to faith this year – one with no church background whatsoever, who literally found the pastor’s phone number and decided to come along. It is an absolute joy to see these two young women worshipping God joyfully each Sunday, and it is an enormous encouragement to see how they have already made some hard decisions in what needs to be put off in their lives in order to live for Him. Sadly, for one that comes to the Lord, another falls away. It has grieved me that several people I knew in Perth no longer follow Jesus, either that or I have some grave fears for them (judging by some of their posts on Facebook). When people say, “I’m a new person,” or “I’m not that person anymore”, or “I think differently about things now,” coupled with other things they’ve been posting, it is often a cause for alarm.

There have been some dramas with other relationships and I have put my foot down this year, no longer willing to be a door mat and pushed around. For years, it seemed people think Duncan and I will constantly adjust our plans, especially concerning kids’ routines, to suit them (and then change their plans again and again and expect us to comply) and I won’t. I don’t regret it; it’s been a year of incredible freedom in that regard, but not without friction and grief.

My writing seems to be going nowhere and, like last year, I have felt despondent over whether it is what God would have me do. My novel was sent out, but I heard nothing back. I’m currently doing another full edit to send it out again. I’ve entered this writing competition every month this year, bar one, and have failed to make the short list. I want to give up, but a small determined part of me won’t quit.

My battle with PMDD has lingered on this year with no cure in sight. I cannot take the one thing that could ‘fix’ the symptoms as it would put me at risk of a stroke. So, it seems I just have to battle on and face menopause later on with nothing (that works) to give any relief.

There have been highlights. Our family trip to Exmouth in July/August (must blog about that) was wonderful as I got to see my cousin and her family for the first time since October 2010. It was the first time she’d met my children. I joined a new Bible study group this year, made up of women from my church. It was an absolute delight meeting with women of different ages and stages and getting to know them better. We went into recess for harvest, but hopefully we can meet again in 2020. I’ve been doing Zumba every Tuesday morning and it was so good exercising in such a supportive environment. We all have coffee together afterwards and it’s organised upfront and openly by the instructor; no secret cliques sneaking away together. Everyone is invited and there is no bitching. It’s great!

Although 2019 has at times felt boring and dull, that I was just plodding along doing the day-to-day stuff, it has given me a shake up in that I’ve been forced to question who or what my security is found in. Is it when things are going smoothly, or when everyone around me is well and happy? Or is it in my great God, who holds the world in the palm of His hand. I’m praying the ‘shake-ups’ so many people have been through this year will bring to Him and not further from Him.

Welcome Lindsay

Meet the newest addition to our feathered family.....Lindsay Lohen!

Like her namesake, she needs rehab.

Lindsay is an ex-battery hen who was donated to Flynn's daycare. She was getting badly pecked by the other chooks (including other ex-battery hens), so she ended up here with us. Her rehab is in a separate area to the other chooks where she can put on some weight and hopefully grow some feathers. I ended up putting Sheba in with her as Sheba has a sore leg and has been limping, and the other chooks kept pecking her to the point where they drew blood. They look like an odd duo - scrawny little Lindsay in with busty, 'comfortable' Sheba - but they seem to be getting on quite well.

Brewster the Rooster has been stalking Lindsay, marching up and down outside her enclosure and crowing repeatedly. I have issued him with several move-on notices.

Fast Away 2018 Passes

I've revived the blog...for now.

I thought it fitting to end 2018 with a post.

This year has simply flown by. I know that is a cliche, but it's true. I'm struggling to rank 2018. Has it been good or bad...or just ordinary? I think all of the above.

2018 was the year I returned to the stage after a four year absence. We rehearsed from mid June until the first show in late October. At first, it was one rehearsal per week, then two as things cranked up. My initial disappointment and hurt over getting a small role turned out to be a great blessing. Even though I had a smallish part, I got on famously with the other cast members I had my scenes with, and I was relieved to have NOT got the part I'd so desperately wanted at the beginning. God really does know what is best for us.

My other highlights were doing Zumba each week while Flynn was at daycare, AND...drum roll.....getting to finally meet Meredith and Wendy. We had a lovely lunch together at Kings Park in Perth in November. I really miss the old days of blogging, when we all blogged regularly and had a really encouraging little community.

Another triumph was finally progressing with our garden. We've had no water supply to the garden since we moved here in December 2010, but FINALLY we have lawn, reticulation, some vegies in the garden...and a HOSE!

 

Rory has finished Pre-Primary - his first year of full-time school - and did tremendously. He is growing in confidence, loves school work, and can read simple sentences.

There were lows. One was our failed adoption (and therefore rehoming) of Shadow. Another was my diagnosis of PMDD. It all started in March and resulted in serious mood swings (white hot anger or floods of tears) and searing headaches which left me bedridden. The doctor has tried to help me, but there seems to be little to be done. 2019 will be a year of further investigation as I can't go on like this each month.

Another bitter disappointment was that I seem to be getting nowhere in my writing career. I've wanted to be a writer since I was seven years old, and now I'm seriously questioning if I have what it takes. My novel has been knocked back repeatedly and I haven't done any good in the short story competitions I've entered. The only option left seems to be self-publishing, but that will cost me and I'm not gifted at marketing my own work. The whole saga has left me quite depressed at times.

I've had several dear friends move further away from me this year. One from Perth to Broome, one from Perth to Victoria, one from the farm here to travelling around Australia, one from Albany to Alice Springs, and another is leaving Perth to move to Sydney in January. Even though I don't get to see them all the time, it's harder when they're even further away. Happy for them, sad for me.

There have also been some strained local relationships. I won't go into it, but Duncan has been having similar difficulties with the same people. It just shows that some people have issues and won't like you whatever you do.

As far as 2019 goes, our weekly routine looks like it will remain much the same - one child at full-time school, one child at home, husband working full-time and me doing a little bit of casual admin work from home. Flynn will go to daycare on Tuesdays and I'll have six precious hours to myself. It's nice to have a bit of stability.

To be honest, I haven't missed blogging. I really needed and enjoyed the break. I'll pop in from time to time, with a book review here or an opinion there. Now that Flynn is going to sleep by himself in the evenings, I may have a bit more time to write...maybe.

May 2019 be great, and may you know the one who loves us all, despite who we are, and died for you and rose again....Jesus.

5 Hopes For 2018

It's mid March already, so I'd better post this. Here goes nothin'.....

1. Press on with my dream of becoming a published author. I plan to submit short stories to competitions to hopefully build my writing 'resume', as well as not give up on getting my novel published.

2. Start riding my bike.

3. Build my fitness. I've already been swimming laps at the local pool on my childfree day once a week (man, I'm unfit). When the pool closes for winter (it's an outdoor pool), I'm going to go to Zumba once a week.

4. Go hardcore on DIY projects. I'm in the middle of fixing up my verandah railing (cutting off old wire, sanding, repainting, and putting up new wire). Then I hope to paint the verandah surface with some non-slip stuff I saw in Bunnings. Our verandah gets terribly slippery when wet, and despite my continued warnings, the little fellows run on it, slip over and hit their heads. After that, my scungy outside laundry needs repainting, as well as some of the doorframes and window frames inside the house.

5. Make a serious dent in the huge pile of unread books next to my bed, on my shelves, in my bookcase, and in the drawers of my bedside table. I love books, but I feel like I'm drowning in them (note to self: STOP BUYING BOOKS). Those that I don't like will either be sold, given away, or placed in my in-laws' Perth house (where we stay when in Perth) for other guests to read.

Clumsy

Well, the bike riding is off to a great start....not!

This whopper of a bruise is on the inside of my left thigh. How did I do it? I was coasting along on my bike...that's right...coasting...not riding, more like scooting. I stopped and tried to get off, and my dress must have got caught on the seat (I know, riding a bike, wearing a dress...stupid) and over the bike and I went. Duncan rushed over and managed to sort of catch me before I toppled over completely. I think my leg banged into the seat.

I will keep trying.

Fast Away the Old Year Passes

I blinked and 2017 was gone.

It was a year of steady progress in some areas, and stalling in others.

It was a year of adjustment for my family, as we entered the school arena.  Suddenly we could no longer take holidays at any time during the year (bar seeding and harvest) - we were confined to term times, like many of our friends.  Rory's Kindy days were Tuesdays, Thursdays and every second Monday.  This made mid-week trips to Albany impossible. I attempted a few daytrips on Wednesdays and that was exhausting.

After a difficult start, the biggest little man did very well. His teacher was very no-nonsense and he seemed to adapt well to her approach. He did things for her that I could never get him to do. He started Kindy not able to hold a pencil properly.  Due to this, his arm would become tired while trying to write. I'd been trying to correct his grip for ages, but his teacher and the occupational therapist who visits the school corrected it within weeks. He has discovered that he CAN use scissors and that craft can actually be fun. But Rory is still very much a 'minimal effort' kinda guy in this area.  He'd much rather be running around outside or doing puzzles.

Dealing with his tiredness and resulting tantrums has been a challenge.  Term 1 was the most difficult, but it did get a bit easier as the year progressed. Still, I'm kind of dreading full-time pre-primary.

Rory's Kindy 'graduation'

One of the many Kindy creations - milk bottle top elephant

One of Rory's paintings. Apparently it's a picture of Daddy haha

This may seem strange, but my surgery was the highlight of my year. That (and actually reducing my anti-depressants) have made a huge difference in my depression. No longer have I been self-conscious going down the street. After I'd had the surgery, Duncan confessed that many people in town have been asking them if I was pregnant (he quickly set them straight).  This reinforced that I'd made the right decision to have the surgery.

Flynn and I at a Melbourne Cup lunch

The other highlight has been surviving seeding and harvest on my own, without needing house-help. I've had short visits from my mum, but other than that, I had a routine happening and I managed on my own (with God's help, of course). I think if harvest didn't fall around Christmastime it would be a LOT easier, as the added stress of the million end-of-year/Christmas events (which all seem to require you to bring a plate) get a bit much.

Flynn at the playgroup Christmas party

Sadly 2017 has seen the slow demise of this blog. I seem to have lost my passion.  Whereas once my head was bursting with ideas for posts, now I'm lacking both inspiration and motivation. By the end of the day, I'm so tired, I can't be bothered starting up the computer to write a post. Plus, I have taken on a small paid admin role for Flynn's daycare, so that has taken up some of my time. I think the fact that many other blogs I have enjoyed over the years have slowed considerably or stopped has been a factor in my own lack of enthusiasm.

What will 2018 hold? Well, it has already got off to a less than ideal start with the death of Solomon, but there are still 362 days left for it to be a good one.

Sometimes You Just Have To Cry

Sometimes crying makes you feel better.

On Friday, I ended up in the emergency department in Albany hospital. The boys and I had been staying with my parents for a few days in the school holidays.  I woke up with shocking abdominal pain.  It started between my chest and my belly button, went through to my back, and then up to my chest, and I started wondering if I was having a heart attack.  The pain was second only to my labour with Flynn.  I couldn't keep still and couldn't stop crying out in agony. 

What really distressed me was not the pain...it was the reaction of my own parents.  They literally didn't care.  My dad yelled at me to stop disturbing everyone.  He told me to take Panadol, put a heat pack on and be quiet.  My mum told me I was scaring the kids (I wasn't; they were totally distracted by the TV) and that I need to learn self-control and be quiet in pain.  I yelled at her furiously, asking if she'd been quiet when she'd hurt her back nine years ago and ended up in hospital for a week.  My dad told me he'd take me to the hospital as long as it didn't make him late for work.

What the heck?!?  They are not usually this horrible and I'm still hurting from it.  I confronted them later, telling them how much their attitude hurt me, that I was in a lot of pain and couldn't just be quiet because it was inconvenient for them.  But they still don't get it.

Then today I was in tears because a friend of mine unfriended me on Facebook.  If it was someone from high school that I hadn't seen since then, and had no 'real life' relationship with, I wouldn't care.  But this friend is someone I see regularly, am on good terms with (or so I thought), can talk about all sorts of stuff with, and Rory is best friends with her son.  I asked her, via private message, why she unfriended me and said I was sorry if I'd inadvertently hurt her.  She said she didn't agree with some of the stuff I posted on Facebook, but that we could still be friends in real life.  I asked her if she could clarify what sort of things she disagreed with and she said she'd tell me in person sometime (I saw that she'd also unfriended Duncan and another mutual friend).  Then, she messaged me this evening, explaining that she finds it too overwhelming reading about friends suffering (like when I posted about my abdominal pain).  I'm glad we have sorted it out, but the whole afternoon has left me somewhat drained and emotionally fragile. (I will do another post on the nature of real life/online friendships later, as it is a subject that has often fascinated and perplexed me.)

Just when I thought I'd been doing so well recently, too.

Side note: I am fine, physically.  The hospital did tests and an ultrasound, but all were clear.  It is not related to my recent surgery.  They thought it might be my gallbladder, but it doesn't seem to be.  After some heavy duty painkillers, which left me very drowsy, I was home a few hours later, and the pain has not returned since.

Related posts:
Facebook 'Friends'

Post-Surgery Worst Nightmare

My worst nightmare post-surgery nightmare was getting gastro. A friend visited me in Perth while I was recovering, and told me how gastro had ripped through her family recently. I thought that if I were to get gastro now, it'd be beyond horrible. Throwing up with a painful stomach...gah!

Of course, that's exactly what happened.

Late Friday afternoon, I went to have a shower in preparation for going out for dinner at a friend's house in celebration of another friend's birthday. I had had my dressings changed twice by a nurse, but this was to be the first time I'd done it myself. He nurse had recommended I do it in the shower. It was a bit painful and, while I was in the shower still, my vision started to go and I felt very faint. I called out to Duncan and he caught me before I fainted. I came to on the shower floor, dressings half off, wondering what had happened. Duncan said I'd been out of it for about 20 seconds. He helped me out of the shower and onto a chair. After a little while, I felt well enough to complete the dressing change, put on my pyjamas (having decided that as much as I was looking forward to the dinner, it was just a no-go after what had happened) and sat on the couch before going to bed. I just didn't feel well.

Then the vomiting started. It finally finished at around 1am.

Surprisingly, it didn't hurt my stomach. Coughing, sneezing and laughing had been much worse. Duncan called our local hospital to check whether he should bring me in, but they said, unless I was in pain, or the vomiting was going on and on, I should be ok.

Of course, I was completely wiped out he following day and my mum arrived to help.

Then on Sunday, Flynn got it.
My mum went home on Monday morning and Bethany from our church, who's been helping me at home arrived.
In the early hours of this morning, Rory got it.
We heard from my dad that my mum had it, too.
Now, Duncan, the man with the immune system of a mallee bull when it comes to gastro, has even succumbed.

We've all been knocked over like dominoes.

May this bug leave my family and never return!

Recovery and Results

I'm now two weeks and three days post-surgery, and I'm pleased to report that everything went well.

My abdominal muscles were repaired and I had to have mesh inserted to hold them together.  The hernia has been repaired.  It's frustrating not being able to do a lot of things, but I am so, so thankful it's done.

I spent three nights in hospital in a shared room.  The first lady I shared with was lovely, although we had to talk to each other from opposite sides of a curtain for a while.  It was nice to finally put a face to the voice.  Then she was discharged and I had a room to myself for just over a day before another lady came in.  On the morning I was getting ready to be discharged, this lady was getting ready to go in for surgery.  Suddenly, she started vomiting everywhere and hearing it just made me want to be sick, too.  I felt very sorry for her, but watching/hearing other people being sick is one thing I struggle with.  This surgery was my first with wound drains.  Duncan was grossed out when I told him I had two tubes coming out of me, and blood and gunk was dripping into two containers.  It sure was awkward walking to the bathroom, having to carry them all the time.

I stayed in Perth for five days after discharge, returning to the hospital once to have my dressings changed.  My mum took care of me and it was a very peaceful week, just watching TV, resting, reading and colouring my adult colouring book - a very strange experience without the little fellows, although I talked to them every day via FaceTime.  I think Duncan has a new respect for stay-at-home mums after he took a week of personal leave to care for the boys while I was away.

Now I've been home for nine days and my peace has been shattered.  Since we couldn't find an au pair, my mum has been staying with us as I can't lift or drive for six weeks.  We managed the school/daycare routine without killing each other.  I was especially nervous about the arrangement as when the fellows were born, things did not go well between us.  But, praise God, we have a young girl from our church coming a few days a week to help me, which is a massive blessing.  It's tempting to do more than I'm supposed to, but then I remember what this surgery cost us financially and I'm determined to do what the surgeon said.  There's no way I want to have it done again.

I'm in a bit of pain and discomfort and I'm still walking a bit hunched, like a little old lady.  Thankfully I have a support garment I wear around my abdomen and it stops me feeling like my stomach is going to fall apart.

Under the Knife

In 11 days I'll finally be having surgery to repair my abdominal diastatis.

Unfortunately, although I fought hard, we will still be forking out $15,000 we don't have, thanks to my family.

I ended up getting a referral for an ultrasound and they found a small hernia near my belly button.  However, since it is only small and the main surgery is the abdominoplasty, I'll be getting peanuts back from Medicare.

Despite all of this, I'm beyond excited to finally be getting some of my life back.  I'll be able to exercise, lift heavy things, be free of abdominal discomfort and pain, be able to fit into my old clothes once I've healed and the swelling has gone down.  I'm actually looking forward to the little 'break' I'll get in hospital.  I just hope they give me good drugs!

Duncan will be taking a couple of weeks off work to care for the boys while I'm away and after I get home.  My mum will be accompanying me to Perth since I won't be able to drive for at least a few weeks after the surgery.

Now we just need to find an au pair from the end of July until the end of August as I won't be able to lift Flynn or do much at all really.  All of our attempts have been fruitless so far.  We've spoken to four different ladies and they've all decided against it (although one we're still chasing up).

Please pray we will find someone soon.

Perth Pilgrimages

Here are some photos from our two most recent Perth holidays (January and April),  I had allergy testing twice to see if I'm allergic to antibiotics I got a horrible rash while taking for mastitis in Mother Baby Unit).  The tests involved skin patches, skin pricks and then taking tablets).  So far, I'm in the clear and it seems that the rash may have been viral.

My arm after skin prick testing

In January, we visited Elizabeth Quay and Rory had his first train ride.

Rory did not want a photo with Mummy on the Carousel

At the train station

Chilling at the local park near where we stay

In April, we caught up with Duncan's brother for a barbecue and took the boys to the zoo.

Galapagos Tortoise

Some kind of monkey

Lemur

 

Orangutan

Orangutan

The male Indian elephant

Tricia the elephant

Penguins

Snake

Another creepy-looking snake

2016 Hopes: How I Went

Well....2016 wasn't a very productive year AT ALL!

1.  RECOVER!  I have a myriad of appointments to arrange and attend this year to aid my recovery - physiotherapy, chiropractic, counselling, hospital follow-ups, blood tests.  It's doing my head in already.
I don't think I recovered much at all.  There were so many moments during 2016 where I should have returned to hospital.  I enjoyed counselling (I found a Christian counsellor in Perth that did appointments via Skype), but I'm not sure it's really had much of an impact.  I guess it's just an ongoing and LONG process.  I had physio regularly, but will need surgery to repair my abdominal diastasis. 

2.  Send my book to more literary agents and publishers.
I got my submission to Fremantle Press ready with just weeks remaining in 2016.  Now, I just actually have to print and post the thing.

3.  Have regular quiet times.  We're only 15 days into the new year and I feel like I'm failing already.  But maybe if I was succeeding I'd be tempted to become proud.  Thank the Lord it's all about His grace.
My friend Amanda sent me a devotional for my birthday, which I found very helpful.  If I wasn't part of a KYB Bible study, which required weekly preparation, I think I would have sadly neglected my Bible altogether.  I think it shows where my heart is, that I don't see reading God's Word and praying enough of a priority.  It's the being still part that I find hard, just enjoying God's presence without thinking about the next thing on my to-do list.

4.  Declutter and sell things to raise money for missions or whoever the Lord places across my path in need of money.  As soon as Flynn outgrows the baby stuff, IT'S OUTTA HERE.
I've sold a fair bit of the baby stuff so far and donated some to our biannual church missions stall.  It breaks my heart to know there will be no more bubbas for us, so I try to list the stuff for sale quickly, so I don't think about it too much.

5.  Read and comment on other blogs more.  I failed dismally at this last year as I was too preoccupied in keeping my own blog afloat. 
Sorry, I don't think I did very well at this at all.

Oh well, onwards and upwards....
Stay tuned for my 2017 hopes.

Is 2016 Cursed?

So many people think so, mainly due to the number of celebrities who have died this year. But, in reality,  many celebrities die every year; what these people mean is that celebrities they particularly like have passed on.

Then there's been Brexit, ongoing horrors in Syria, and Donald Trump becoming the US president. Again, troubling things are constantly happening in the world. 2016 has been no exception.

For me personally, 2016 has been a horrible year. Much of what happened flowed on from 2015; while it is nice to draw a line in the sand and say a new year is a fresh start, one cannot always escape past events. This year, I have been so unwell with postnatal depression, I probably should have been hospitalised many times. I've wanted to walk away from my marriage and family, desperate to seek help in the city. Our closest mental health service is absolutely appalling. I am so glad to be rid of them.

I feel like I've achieved very little, apart from surviving. I love my little family dearly, and it devastates me that I must live with my mind and body shrouded by a dark cloud. It feels like I've spent much of 2016 struggling in my relationship with God, desperate for Him to remove this thorn from my side. But, in His kindness and mercy, we have had two wonderful live-in nannies - Jordie for seeding and Liz for harvest. If I'd been well, I'd never have had the privilege and joy of having met them.

In recent weeks I've received the news that three friends of mine are now separated from their husbands. This has affected me deeply. It seems that hearing about separation/divorce and babies dying is a big trigger for depression for me. I grieve and I pray for there to be reconciliation and change in those marriages. But I'm trying not to let it get me down.

I'm praying for a better 2017. I'm praying for Flynn to sleep, as sleep deprivation is a huge factor in my illness.

Do I think 2016 is cursed? No, but it hasn't been a good year for many people.

Bring on 2017. May it be a great adventure.

Jolly Expensive Dog

That was Duncan's reaction when it told him the cost of Gypsy's vet bill.

I'd better backtrack a bit to the beginning.....

Two and a half weeks ago, Duncan was doing sheep work on a Saturday and was using both of our dogs.  It was a warmish day, but not overly hot.  Duncan took the dogs to one of the dams for a drink and a swim.  Maya went in, but Gypsy refused to go in the water, or even drink (she hates swimming).

Later on, Gypsy collapsed from heat exhaustion and Duncan had to rush her to the vet.  She spent two nights at the vet on a drip and other medications, before I was able to pick her up.  She has to complete three weeks of rest before she's allowed to go back to work (not that there will be any work for her now, because it's harvest).  No running around, so she has to go for walks on a lead.  Being a farm dog, she's not used to being on a lead and nearly strangles herself on the rare occasions she's on one, but I've been impressed so far.....she can now walk on a lead as well as any suburban dog.

The grand total of this misadventure....$1000!

I love her and I'm so relieved she's ok, but that was a big, fat ouch to our bank account (bring on Duncan's overtime pay).

Gypsy after a nice bath.

Liz, our nanny, giving her a brush and
removing the dreadlocks from her bum and tail.

The Pendulum: Not Wishing It On Anyone, But Not Wanting To Be Alone

Having postnatal depression has been one of the toughest experiences of my life.  Sorry to use a cliche, but I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

However (and I feel kind of evil for saying this), I do sometimes wish someone else I know had it.  All of the friends I have that have/had postnatal depression, I have met through the Mother Baby Unit, or in groups dedicated to helping mothers recover from PND.  I only know of two people that I met in everyday life that have confessed to having had major PND (both before I met them).

Therefore, I feel kind of lonely.  The statistics say that one in seven mums will suffer from postnatal depression.  Either they hide it very well, or the stats just seem wrong.  Of course, many mums will admit to having had the baby blues or mild PND, but when it comes to being hospitalised and suffering majorly, I appear to be alone.  I've watched friends have babies recently and they appear to just be coasting on by.  Yes, they admit the sleep deprivation is tough, but otherwise they said they're doing well.

I don't want mums to suffer...I just don't want to feel alone.

12 Things You've Never Done

Rodney has created a list of 12 unusual things he's done or had happen to him in his life that most of his readers wouldn't have (at least not all 12).  Read it here on his blog.

This is my list.  I haven't done as many exciting things as Rodney has, but I'm guessing no-one reading this post has done all of them.  Let me know if you've had any of these experiences.

1.  Had a Transient Ischaemic Attack at 19
I was in my third year of uni when I woke during the night with agonising pain in my head.  Worse than a migraine, my head hurt just touching the pillow and it felt like my skull was going to blow apart.  I was so dizzy and I lost feeling in the right side of my face and down my right arm.  I was left with a pins and needles sensation in my face and arm for nearly a week afterwards.  After numerous tests and doctor's visits (including a CT scan to check for a brain tumour), ruled out a number of other possible diagnoses, the doctor decided it must have been a TIA.  My family on my dad's side has a history of stroke; my dad has had many TIAs.  I've never had one since, but I'm mindful that I need to reduce stress as much as possible and get plenty of sleep (haha why did I have kids?).

2.  Played a black cat, a farmer's wife from 1914,  and an old crone with a bucket on her head in some of the plays I've been in.
I'm willing to bet some people reading this have been on stage....but I doubt any would have played these characters.

3. Played tennis against Casey Dellacqua. 
It was 1996. She was 11, I was 13, and she was part of a group of state-level juniors who came down to Albany to play some of the local kids.  We thought we were to be playing against ordinary kids like us.  Talk about a mismatch.

Image from here

4.  Been hospitalised for postnatal depression...twice
Related posts:
Where I Am and Where I've Been
It's Happened Again

5.  Had two short stories published in creative writing magazines
My first was in Brillig (a literary journal of prose and poetry for teenagers, which existed between 1995 and 2000) when I was in Year 10 (1998).  The second was in Sitelines when I was in my first year of uni (2001)....unfortunately the older editions aren't online anymore.  I want to try to get some more published. 

6.  Been diagnosed with Ankylosing Spondylitis
I never thought I'd get arthritis.  Thankfully, I'm feeling pretty good at the moment.
Related posts:
Life with AS 

7.  Eaten crocodile
Our local butcher stocked some for a while.  It was very expensive, but delicious.  It tastes like a cross between chicken and fish.

8.  Had my photo taken with a giraffe
It was when I was doing a play at the Perth Zoo in 2003.  I wish I had a copy of the photo.  You'll just have to take my word for it.

9.  Made a chicken hat
I've made this hat several times...once for an Easter hat parade when I was in primary school, once for a friend's mad hatter themed birthday, and once for a hat competition at our local agricultural show.
Related posts:
Show Business

10.  Made a watermelon bra
Another show competition creation
Related posts:
There Are No People Like Show People

11.  Seen The Doctor Blake Mysteries being filmed
It was in Williamstown, while we were on holidays in Melbourne in 2012.
Related posts:
Williamstown

12.  Written a novel about Aussie Rules football
The big one!  Still working towards publication.

In Light of the 'Dark Day'

Today is a year since I had the 'breakdown' that ultimately landed me in the Mother Baby Unit. Tomorrow is a year since I arrived at the MBU.

I wish I could say that everything is rosy a year on, but that would be a lie. There have been many horrible moments throughout the past year. While I'm grateful for the support I received and the friendships I made, the experience continues to highlight the vast differences between city and country, and the frustration I've felt because of where I live.

Thankfully, today was nothing like that dark day.

Tummy Troubles

Another door that has been slammed shut.....but I will sure not stop fighting to kick it open.

I've mentioned before that I've been diagnosed with abdominal diastasis following Flynn's birth.  The only real fix for this issue is an abdominoplasty, but, thanks to the government, this postpartum condition, which affects many women, is now deemed 'cosmetic' and is no longer covered by Medicare.  Due to this, I cannot claim private health on hospital fees, either.  No coverage at all.  I'd be $15,000 out of pocket. 

Yes, $15,000!

The only people who qualify for Medicare benefits now are those who have lost a massive amount of weight, or if they have an abdominal hernia.  My doctor, the surgeon she referred me to, and my physio all thought there was a high likelihood that I have a hernia, and I was sent for a CT scan at the start of September.  I never thought I'd be praying to have a hernia.

Unfortunately the results said I don't have a hernia, but the area is very close to herniating.  Apparently near enough is not good enough.  When I had the scan done, something didn't feel right.  They didn't get me to lie in the positions that the physio said they would.

So, now after ruling out other options, including cheaper surgery in Thailand, selling our four wheel drive to pay for the surgery, and taking out a loan, I'm going back to my doctor to get a referral for a second opinion.

Yes, I'm desperate.

For the past year, I've been unable to exercise due to the risk of making the muscle separation worse.  I miss tennis.  Another netball team was set up this year and I wish I could play again.  My self-esteem has taken a battering because I still look pregnant.  There's always some insensitive twit who will ask.  I'm still in maternity clothes because nothing else fits.  I still get some pain in my stomach area because both of my bubbas stretched me so much and I carried all out the front. My pelvic floor is weak.

I'm sick of people who say stupid things like, "Your body carried a baby, you should be proud of it," or, "You can't expect to look like a supermodel."  I'm not wanting to look like a supermodel, I just want some of my old life back.  This makes my depression worse.

Stupid government.  Why do they reward people for losing weight by giving them tummy tucks covered by Medicare, but women who've had children are left to suffer?

Could I ask you to please do two things for me?

1.  Pray that I will somehow miraculously qualify for Medicare and that I'll be able to get a second opinion.

2.  Sign this petition.

Thank you!

Nuts

No other word could have better described my day last Thursday.

I had a scare regarding Rory's allergy to nuts. 

I felt like I was going nuts.

It started with a trip to see the child health nurse. Flynn was due for his one-year-old vaccinations, and Rory for his three and a half-year-old ones. I decided to take both boys on the same day so I'd only have to make the one trip. Rory is terrified of anything medical and I'd been talking to him about getting a needle, trying to prepare him for it. I promised him we'd go out for cake at the cafe afterwards before heading down to Albany for a couple of days. Whatever I'd said must have been having an effect, because he was almost quite excited about getting the jab!

At the nurse's office, I made my first mistake.....I got Flynn's needles done first. Rory stood and watched even though I told him to go and play with the toys. Then he screamed...and screamed...and screamed. He screamed before, during and after his needle. He continued screaming when we were in the car ready to drive away, even though I told him it was over. Finally I said we couldn't go into the cafe unless he stopped screaming. He stopped long enough to tell me he didn't want to sit in the cafe, so I got takeaway instead.

Here is where I made my second and biggest mistake. I bought Rory a piece of carrot cake without asking what was in it. It was a draining trip, during which I had to stop three times (once because Flynn wanted milk, once for Rory to use a public toilet, and once for him to do a bush wee, which he didn't end up doing).  Then, when we were about 40km from Albany, Rory started coughing and coughing. At first, I thought he was faking it; he often fake coughs, tells me he's sick, and asks for medicine (he LOVES the taste). Then he started becoming more and more distressed. By the time we arrived at my parents' house, his skin was bright red and covered in white lumps. I left Flynn with my mum and rushed Rory to hospital, which thankfully is only a two minute drive away.

At the hospital they saw him straight away, gave him cortisone and an antihistamine, and covered his torso with damp flannels. The medications zonked him out and he slept for a while in the emergency department. Eventually the rash subsided and we were allowed to leave.

The carrot cake had walnuts in it! Rory is allergic to pretty much all nuts.

He is fine and I am fine, albeit quite drained. It was a hectic end to a busy couple of weeks. We ended up having to go home early because my mum was sick.

The point of this post is not to beat myself up for making a mistake, because all parents are human and we stuff up from time to time. I'm just thankful he's not anaphylactic. Kids are forgiving, but some fellow parents tend not to be. Whereas once parents comiserated with each other when hearing about how someone else's child broke their arm climbing a tree, or got lost in a shopping centre, now it's all like, "How could you have let that happen? What kind of parent are you?" It's sad. I think it's safe to say most parents are genuinely doing their best and are not the negligent types who leave their kids in the car while they play the pokies.

This is why I haven't posted this story on Facebook.