It’s all relative

•April 19, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Today at work I met a lovely patient. He was kind, funny and spoke of his 40 years with his wonderful wife. He is so full of joy. After he left, we developed his X-rays and found spots on his lungs. It’s the first time I’ve had this happen. The first of many I guess.

It made me think. Why spend so much time looking for things to be different when you can be happy with what you have?

It also makes me think why I am writing this post whilst smoking a cigarette? How can I stand there and look at this lovely man who next week will get some terrible, life changing news and feel so sad that this is how his life will end, only to go home and light up?

How do I even kid myself that it won’t happen to me?

I need to be the change that I want to see in the world. I need to start by stopping smoking.


The radio is a bastard this morning

•April 19, 2012 • Leave a Comment

So after a night where I had the most anxiety inducing dreams, these are the two songs the bastard radio has dished up today:

Been watching so much TV
I’m thinner than I should be
I’m like a waterlogged ball
That no-one wants to kick around anymore
An all day morning hair-do
That no comb can get through
It’s all granola and beer
A calling card and a silk cut souvenir
I miss you like sleep
And there’s nothing romantic about the hours I keep
The morning’s when it starts
I don’t look so sharp
Now I got a heavy heart

I talk a lot about football
And girls I kissed in Grade 4
I piss off my friends
I’m digging a hole just staring at the floor
Now every t-shirt’s got a wine stain
I’m loving cigarettes again
I know every tune about guys and girls
and hurts and hearts and moans

I miss you like sleep
And there’s nothing romantic about the hours I keep
The morning’s when it starts
I don’t look so good
Now I’ve got a heavy heart

It’s just a low rent paying, palpitating pulp inside my shirt
But there’s a weight that’s sitting
So hard oh God it hurts
Oh God it hurts

Been watching so much TV
I’m thinner than I should be
I’m like a waterlogged ball
That no-one wants to kick around anymore

I miss you like sleep
And there’s nothing romantic about the hours I keep
The morning when it starts
Oh my heavy heart

And this song that had always reminded me of our relationship:

I think we’re heading in the same direction
When you go bit insane
I try to reason it’s too easy to give up on it
But I don’t wanna play this blame game again

We cover over all the things that bring us closer
And before you know it it’s goodbye
So now you’ve said your piece
And I try to find a way to organize my mind
Stay on course, straight and true
And you, you think we’re heading in the right direction
but I don’t know if I do too

Cos I try to send a message
But you don’t wanna hear it
You’re so obsessed with all the things they said and how they see us
I try to draw the anchor but you just cast another down
Don’t wanna go down with this ship

Don’t wanna go down (with this ship)
No I don’t wanna go down (with this ship)
I don’t wanna go down (with this ship)
No I don’t wanna go down (with this ship)

Cos I try to send a message but you don’t wanna hear it
You’re so obsessed with all the things they said and how they see us
I try to draw the anchor but you just cast another
And I don’t wanna go down with this ship

I fly this flag forever but you don’t wanna see it
The way it was it’s how it is for you and you can’t leave it
We’re only treading water, but slowly sinking deeper
And I don’t wanna go down with this ship

I don’t wanna go down with this ship
I don’t wanna go down with this ship

So shit! It is not helping me to keep a lid on my heartache at all.

Funny memories

•April 18, 2012 • Leave a Comment

I think one of the many lingering effects of a drug addiction is the way memories get fuzzy and lost. After au years you would think I’d have more crystal clear moments I could look back on. I can recall so many fights in graphic detail and yet some of the happy memories are blurred around the edges.

There was so much good in our relationship that complemented the bad. We were perfect mirrors of each other. So alike in so many ways – both good and bad. We lacked the strength and insight to pull each other onto the straight and narrow because we were so busy trying to lead each other off it. Some of the situations we got ourselves into make me laugh so much.

There was a night in Thailand where, after a lot of alcohol was consumed, we jumped on the back of complete strangers’ mopeds and joined off to a party in the back streets of Phuket. It was a wonderful night but who knows what we were thinking. After we got back to our hotel in the very early hours, we sat on pool lounges and talked until the sun came up. That is a wonderful memory that makes me smile.

There was a day when he had chucked a sickie from work (we did those irresponsible things quite often) and we spent it in bed. Actually there were a lot of these days – this one in particular stands out in my mind. We were living in our new house and we were so happy with each other. I remember him holding my hand gently and looking into his blue eyes. It felt like nothing would ever come between us.

Another day (more recently) the three of us went to the aquatic centre. It was so lovely being able to go somewhere and feel like a little family. We took my son swimming for ages and he had a wonderful time. Afterwards we had lunch together. It was a warm summer day and the memory glows golden with the feeling of happiness.

I’m lying in bed and tonight is a good night. I’m not hysterically crying, instead I am reminiscing about happy times. It is inevitable that I will feel sad at what has been lost. But it is important that whilst grieving I allow myself time to enjoy these beautiful memories.

If only we had another chance. Knowing what we know now – surely we wouldn’t make the same mistakes?

Who knows – maybe we would. Maybe we were destined to be each other’s life lesson and nothing more.

Fucked in the head

•April 18, 2012 • Leave a Comment

I wonder if I will always be so fucked in the head.  I have spent the last three days failing in my resolve to cut Cam out of my life.  I feel like if I do then it is like shutting the door on him forever.  Yet that is precisely what I need to do.  He has made it abundantly clear that he is done with our relationship and yet a part of me keeps longing for him to change his mind.  What kind of a masochist intentionally puts herself through the torture of trying to recapture a relationship that is already dead?  This kind.


Inside of me I refuse to believe it is over.  I can’t let it end like this.


Why can’t I just let it go??

All I can think of s the day I first said “I am going to marry this guy”.  It was something I knew deep inside of me.  That something still hasn’t changed.  How can that feeling be wrong?  How can  have failed so badly?


Fuck Fuck Fuckety Fuck.

Drugs are bad m’kay

•April 18, 2012 • Leave a Comment

On Monday i bought a packet of cigarettes.


I hear you saying “BFD people buy packets of cigarettes every day”


The problem with this purchase is that I gave up smoking almost two years ago.


Last night I was standing in the rain smoking a cigarette and feeling very disappointed in myself and I got to thinking about how far my life has come that I am cross at the act of smoking a cigarette.  Six years ago cigarettes were part and parcel of my day to day life.  I needed cigarettes to “pin” my marijuana with.  I would get out the shotglass, add two big buds, chop them to a tobacco consistency, add the contents of a cigarette and chop it all up to a nice mix.  Then into the cone piece it when and I would smoke it up royal.

It is nothing to be proud of – but I was a pretty fast at chopping up.  I had that much practise.


If you look at it, my ex and I smoked $400 worth of weed a week.  Multiply that by 52 weeks of the year and four years and you get $83 000.  That is a sizeable deposit on a house.  I don’t understand how we justified that kind of expense every week.  We both had jobs that paid a fair wage – but imagine what we could have done with that cash?!?  How does anyone justify it? I know that our abuse is small scale compared to some – but to me it was way too much.  The hours spent waiting for our dealer, the nights spent stoned in front of the Tv, the weekends spent in a stupor, the brain cells that have permanently gone on vacation.  All of it for no gain whatsoever.


I hope I can educate my son on everything I have learned about using drugs.  It is understandable that he will probably be as curious as me.  I would be idealistic to think he will never try them.  But I hope he is able to talk to me about it so he can avoid going down the path I went.


•April 15, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Today my son turns 11 months old. It is amazing how quickly a little life races along. 11 months ago I was sitting at work impatiently waiting for the thing in my gigantic belly to come on out. Now that thing is a walking and sometimes talking entity who has changed my life for the better in so many ways. I sit here in bed on a cold autumn morning and I am so proud that I am his mother. We make a great pair and I love him more than anything.

Today also marks the first day of my life without a certain man in it. We shall call him Cam (because I think he would be offended if I used his real name). I have know him for twenty years. We grew up together as part of the cast of a theatre group. We dated as teenagers and then there was a gap where we lost touch for a while. At 24 he came back into my life through the wonder of MySpace (haha). We decided a catch up was long overdue and arranged to go out on the town. One thing led to another an I found myself in a nightclub in the city taking my first ecstasy tablet. I was no stranger to drugs in that I had always had a weakness for smoking pot, but up until that night I had never even wanted to try anything else. It was like something inside me broke and I decided it was time to give it a go. Can was a more experienced drug user (in that he went out regularly and had been doing so for years). He looked out for me as I experienced the awesomeness of my first high and that night we found ourselves in bed making love. It was the start of six crazy years where we both experienced the highs and lows of drug taking and the highs and lows of what was sometimes a very unhealthy relationship. I am not going to go through a blow by blow account of our life together (at least not today) but I did need to get some background info out there.

Eight months before he came into my life, I had been sexually assaulted by a much older man. It is a terrible thing to happen to anyone. At the time was running my own business which was successful in its own right. I was working sixty hours a week and absolutely loving life. The assault ruined me. I let it ruin me. By the time Cam came back into my life I was so scared and angry with the world that some irresponsible drug taking was what I felt needed. I through myself into the relationship head first. He had been sexually assaulted as a teenager by his stepfather and I felt he alone understood the pain I felt every day about what had happened to me. I didn’t see that we both so caught up in our own emotional turmoil that we couldn’t be the rock the other needed to get through the other side. We just kept clinging on and dragging each other down until we were so deep in an ocean of blame and anger that it took years to get out.

We were out on the town every weekend taking pills and smoking pot every single day – all day. I was going to work high as a kite and I just didn’t care. I don’t know how I thought this was the answer to my problems but at the time it seemed so right. I loved (and still love) Cam so deeply that I was blind to how destructive we were to each other. Neither of us had the strength to take a step back from the situation and say “dude we are so fucked up all the time. Eventually this is going to end badly”. I thought we could go on like this for years.

What goes up must come down. It happened to me first. I started to become really anxious everytime I took a pill. I had one night where I to too many and found myself in the toilet of a nightclub alone sweating and delirious. That was so dangerous. I am lucky that it didn’t end very differently. I had to stop taking ecstasy because I was freaking out all over the place. Cam was disappointed that our great night’s out clubbing were curtailed. Instead of dealing with the anxiety, I increased my pot consumption. I smoked in the morning, after breakfast, all day and then, because I worked at night, I’d have a huge session in the afternoon. After work all I could think of was chopping up and smoking a huge bowl. Sounds gross when I read that back but it was exactly how I felt. I’ve we’re jay and silent bob, cheech and chong. As I write that I laugh but really it is not funny. Apparently marijuana is classed as a non addictive drug. I don’t agree at all. If I didn’t smoke I couldn’t sleep or eat. The withdrawals were horrible. My solution to that was to just keep smoking.

Psychologists and medical professionals will tell you that smoking too much marijuana will a crazy person make. Once again, the first person to crack was me. Can and I were a year and a half into our relationship. We had moved in together out in the west. It was a crappy house but we were happy because we had each other and we could smoke as much as we wanted. It took a while for me to admit something was seriously wrong. When we had been clubbing a lot I’d lost a fair amount of weight. I was a size 14 at the beginning and by then was a size ten. All of a sudden, stoned or not, I couldn’t eat. Everything I did eat came back up. I shrank away to a size six. I looked like a skull on a stick. You could count my ribs. Depression descended upon me like a thick black fog. I can’t identify when it started, but I do know that one day I couldn’t remember what it felt like to be happy. I thought I’d never be happy again. I slid from tearful, to hysterical, to angry, to downright aggressive all in the space of an hour. I hit out at everyone and everything around me and kept smoking smoking smoking. Being stoned was the only way I knew I block out the pain I felt from not dealing with the assault. I blamed myself for letting it happen. I won’t delve into that more today. That is a whole other topic! But suffice to say that I was trying to self medicate and it was failing miserably. Poor Cam was hideously unprepared for what was happening. Having never dealt with his own feelings of blame and inadequacy related to his sexual assault, he was in no way ready to help me with mine. We would fight like wounded animals. Every blow was intended to cut to the bone. Things said and done in the heat of the moment left scars that are still raw four and a half years on. I said I wanted to kill myself but I didn’t have the guts. Really I just wanted him to know that I felt like I had nothing to live for and I was screaming out for him to save me. He couldn’t do it. His own pain made it impossible for him to be who I needed him to be. He failed me and deep inside I hated him for it. With his background there is no way he could have been my savior – but I felt he let me down all the same.

Any normal human being would have walked away from such a terrible mess. Our friends were up in arms at how much damage we were doing to each other. Even now I am so grateful to the ones that stood by the both of us as they watched it all unfold. There was judgement of course but there was also acceptance that we had to work it out or ourselves.

The culmination of this melting pot of depression, anger, drug abuse and blame came on Australia Day 2009. Two and a half years after it all began we had the biggest fight that ended with him moving out, police being called and apprehended violence orders being filed on both sides. You’d think that this would be enough to tell us to stop and walk away. Everyone told us to – friends, families, workmates. But no – we both liked flogging a dead horse. The day of our court case we ran back into each others arms and off we went again. I’m sounding so blasé about the court case but it really was the scariest thing. I have grown up in a middle class family where nothing like that ever happened before. So had Cam. It was so far removed from how we should have been behaving and yet we still couldn’t see how bad we were being for each other. I panicked about being alone and didn’t really think about whether coming back to him was the right decision (i know him well enough to say that did exactly the same thing). If ever there was a moment where I can say that we should have walked away, that was it. After that it was another three years of pain before he finally called it quits for good.

My fingers hurt from typing this on the iPhone. There is much more to get out but mummy duties call.

Until next time I am going to leave with a quote from eat pray love that absolutely applies to my relationship with Cam who was without a doubt my soulmate. The best and the worst thing that ever happened to me:

People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it.

And so it begins

•April 15, 2012 • 1 Comment

It’s interesting how, when you are young, you have an idea about where your life will end up.

Mine was fairly simple: finish school, go to uni, get a good job, find a wonderful man, get married, have kids, live happily ever after (real fairy tale complex).

Now, at the age of thirty years old, it is time to take stock of just how different things turned out: finished school (but not with the high marks I had always assumed would come my way), dropped out of uni, ran a business that went belly up, was sexually assaulted which caused an epic depression that took care of my mid twenties and led to a terrible spiral of drug abuse, had a man who I loved dearly and we were very unhealthy for each other, tried to leave said man and wandered fruitlessly around whilst still holding on to the tattered remains of a broken relationship, conquered my depression, conquered my drug abuse, got involved with another guy who was not right for me, found myself pregnant, became a single mother, kept clinging to relationship with my old boyfriend, after eleven months of my son’s life he gave up on us. Now I am trying to work my shit out.

Kind of crazy when you look at it like that. There are so many more little details that fit around that summary of my last 12 years of life but that is it in a nutshell. I’ve had one hell of a bumpy ride to get where I am but I am here now and that is what is important.

This blog is an attempt for me to work through all that had happened and record my thoughts and feelings. I am changing names so people aren’t offended however I am fairly sure those that know me will see through that one. I’m not sure what I hope to achieve by writing this. Perhaps some perspective on how I got here and how I can move forward. It might be interesting for you, it might be boring as batshit, you may find some of what I have to say helpful, you might see this whole exercise as narcissistic. I can’t foresee where this will lead but I need a cathartic way to deal with life (who doesn’t).

Here starts something new. Wonder where this journey will take me?