Awww - back to the fluffy for a moment

A mother is a mother is a mother. 

Who can resist a little bit of Mama love?



I'm such a sucker for kittens.  And my mean husband won't let me have one.

A plea from a friend..

I'm posting this entry from a friend of mine.  She isn't comfortable having it on her own blog, so for privacy reasons, we're putting it up here. 

It's worth a read.  It has given me, personally a good insight to what my own best friend has been trying to tell me for months now.   Maybe we all have a friend going through an incredibly different time.  Could we perhaps learn something from the point of view of someone who is living it, and trying desperately to hang on to that last thread and find her balance?

NOTE: Some of you are going to immediately recognise who this blogger is.  Please be careful, don't use her name in your comments, and if you choose to contact her on FB, please do it in the form of a private message, rather than on her wall.  I'd hate for this to cause any problems for her.

Having said that, she could probably use a friendly word about now.

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It's not you.... it's me.


I know that sounds like a line. And so often - it DOES mean "It's totally you". But in the world of diabetes - where nothing is as it seems, where what's up is down, what's right is wrong, and what's left is right - it's often the things that make the least sense that are, in fact, the truth.

You see, when diabetes entered our lives, I didn't really get it. I really thought that when we got home from the hospital that sooner or later we could pick up our life where we had dropped it 4 months earlier. I thought, like everyone else, that we'd get her under control and things would go back to normal.

I mean, I knew it was going to take a little extra. I just had no idea.  I kept waiting for when I could stop checking at night. Waiting for the fear to go away. Waiting for it to start making sense. Waiting for diabetes to stop consuming my every thought.  It's been almost 3 years. I'm still waiting.

At first, it seemed like it WAS back to normal. Sort of. It just hadn't hit me yet.
In some ways, the more time we spend fighting this disease, the harder it becomes.
Especially this last year when I went through the breakdown of my marriage just to add more work & stress.

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My grief didn't start right away. Oh, I thought it did. But I was wrong. I'm still working through it. Some days are better than others.

I know you wonder what's going on with me. Why sometimes I'm so distant. Why I don't return calls or emails like I used to. Why I seem like the same person... just a little off. Or maybe you wonder what happened to me? Where I went?

I wonder, too.

It's just that sometimes it's SO HARD.
Sometimes it's so hard to be around people who DON'T live with diabetes. Sometimes it hurts to watch how easy the simplest things are for you. Like feeding your kids. Or having a date night. Or getting together with friends. Or.... well, you name it.
Sometimes I feel like I speak a different language now. One that no one else understands.

Sometimes it's just so difficult for us to do the easiest of things. Excursions take planning and packing. We can't be so spontaneous. We have to consider so many things....

And sometimes I'm just so tired.  I don't mean to pull away from you.

It's just.... I feel so very "high maintenance". And that makes me feel guilty. I feel guilty that it's hard for us all to get together because we have trouble finding a babysitter. Sometimes I think it's just easier for you to get together without me.

And did I mention that I'm just so tired?

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Sometimes I have nothing left to give. At the end of the day, I'm done. There is nothing left in the tank. I have no energy left to talk or email or hang out or anything. Perhaps because at times I only get 2-3 hours sleep a night, sometimes this can last up to 3 weeks at a time. (Due to the fact that at times I need to do 1-2 hourly obs, all night). All because a tiny little organ decided not to grow, she lives a life with a Terminal illness. But I won’t give up, never give up, unlike their pancreas that failed them, I never will.



But I know - It's been so long. We used to get together all the time. And now I can't remember the last time... And that makes me feel guilty, too.

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Sometimes I feel so empty.  Sometimes I hear you talk about your life... and it just feels so different from mine. It didn't used to be. It makes me wonder what happened to MY life. But now it is so different. And that's hard. It hurts. It stings. I don't like feeling that way.


Sometimes I feel so alone.  And I don't want to be "that" person. You know - the one that makes you feel like you have to walk on eggshells because you might say something wrong. The one who makes you feel sad or uncomfortable.
So I try to hide it. I laugh in the right places. I smile. I say I'm fine.
But you KNOW me. You know that sometimes I'm not fine. And now you know why...
But neither of us knows what to do about it.
Please don't give up on me.

What you do does not go unnoticed. And I need you now more than ever before. But sometimes I just can't express it to you.

Thank You.

Thank you, for keeping after me. Thank you for not letting me pull away. Thank you for being there for me when I have trouble being there for you. Thank you for not letting me fall off the radar. Thank you for offering to help. Thank you for caring. Thank you for checking on me. Thank you for being such a wonderful friend - even when I can't always return the favour. Thank you for putting up with the glazed eyes and the unfocused attention and constant forgetting and the fact that I've been M.I.A. so very often.

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All I can offer is this...

I'll keep fighting. I'll keep swimming and I'll keep trying to find myself. Maybe we won't get back to where we were... but maybe our new friendship will be that much better.

You - Just bear with me. And PLEASE- don't take it personally.
Because really -It's not you. It's me.
But I'm working on it.

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What I really think of Slutwalk.

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I guess that unless you've been living under a rock (or, I'm betting if you're my husband -let me check- yep, this is the first he's heard of it. Honestly, does the man never listen to the radio?), you've heard all about the movement provocatively named "Slutwalk".

For those of you that have missed it (I'm doubting there are many), earlier this year,a couple of officers in the Toronto Police force were holding an information night on Campus safety at a local university.   And one of the safety tips given by an officer was that if women didn't want to be victims of sexual assault, they shouldn't dress like sluts.

Cue a LOT of offended people.  And probably rightly so.  It's disheartening to realise it's 2011 and the police force (and let's not fool ourselves into thinking that this attitde is limited to just a)the Toronto Police force or b) just law enforcement in general) still, deep down, believe that somehow women are at least partly to blame for sexual assault.

According to organisers, the idea was to highlight a culture in which the victim rather than rapist or abuser is blamed.  Walks have been held all over the world, beginning in Canada and the United States, and in a groundswell, sweeping through other nations, ours included. 

According to organisers in Boston "The event is in protest of a culture that we think is too permissive when it comes to rape and sexual assault.


"It's to bring awareness to the shame and degradation women still face for expressing their sexuality... essentially for behaving in a healthy and sexual way,"

And why "Slutwalk"?  According the the original organisers, at http://www.slutwalktoronto.com/ -

Historically, the term ‘slut’ has carried a predominantly negative connotation. Aimed at those who are sexually promiscuous, be it for work or pleasure, it has primarily been women who have suffered under the burden of this label. And whether dished out as a serious indictment of one’s character or merely as a flippant insult, the intent behind the word is always to wound, so we’re taking it back. “Slut” is being re-appropriated.

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Here's the first part of my concern. I'm not sure that the word 'slut' can (or even should) be 'reappropriated'.  I think that there are some pejorative terms that ought to be simply retired. Not accepted, not changed. Banished forever.  Nigger.  Retard. Faggot. Kike. Slut.
(I apologise if anyone is offended by my typing out the actual words instead of resorting to "the 'N' word' but I didnt' want any confusion, and the "K" word or the "F" word might not have been as obvious).

I think that these are words that are nothing but hurtful. They are dehumanizing words  hurled at innocent people with the intent to insult and hurt.  And in my opinion, parading on the streets in a bra and your fishnets with the word "Slut" scrawled across your stomach doesn't 'reclaim' the term.  At best, it turns you into a spectacle, enabling noone to take you or your message seriously.  At worst, it perpetuates the stereotype.

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They occurred here in Brisbane and in Melbourne today, and there are walks planned in Sydney, Canberra, Darwin and Adelaide.

And depending on which one you go to, or which organiser you ask, the whole reasoning behind using the term "Slutwalk" is a little confusing, even contradictory.   Some want to claim the world as something to be proud of.  "If I want to wear clothes that show of 'the girls' and that makes me a slut, then I'm a slut. And proud of it'.  Others say that they want to "take back the word, take away the power people have over us when they use it".

According to writer and commentator Leslie Cannold "Reclaiming the word slut is going to disempower it. Gays have reclaimed the wordqueer and good on them. today the women and men of Melbourne are reclaiming the word slut."


Opinion writer and author of "The Great Feminist Denial", Monica Dux says "Enough of the judgements about our sexuality. Enough of living in a world where we do not feel safe".

 Which is it?  Are we embracing the word slut and deciding it is something to be proud of?  Or are we saying that we shouldn't be judged on our sexuality and don't deserve to be called sluts because of it?

The thing is, that last part of Monica's statement is where my heart truly lies.  "Enough of living in a world where we don't feel safe".  And I think that this is where the organisers have simply missed the point.

Do I care that a woman can't wear whatever skimpy outfit she wants to a club and be subjected to crude comments and uninvited sexual advances?  Sure.  While I don't know that it's necessarily advisable to dress that way , I believe a woman deserves the right to wear whatever she wants and be safe.

Do I care that there is still a prevailing attitude that a woman dressed that way who is raped in some way 'had it coming'?  More than I can tell you.  I believe with every fibre of my being that it is NEVER the woman's fault.  I believe that not only does "No mean no".  But anything other than a loud, clear and sober "Yes" means no too.

But do I think that this is what feminism really means? No. I don't.  I think that the feminism movements and women's rights were about equal rights for women, an end to sex-based discrimination and (in theory at least) an end to exploitation and trafficking of women.  It is about promoting women's rights, rights and issues. The right to vote. the right to hold public office. The right to purchase a home. The right to an education. The right to have a voice. The right to apply for and be paid equally for the same job as anyone else and not be discriminated against based upon gender.

From here

The feminist movement (also known as the Women's Movement, Women's Liberation, or Women's Lib) refers to a series of campaigns for reforms on issues such as reproductive rights, domestic violence, maternity leave, equal pay, women's suffrage, sexual harassment and sexual violence. The movement's priorities vary among nations and communities and range from opposition to female genital cutting in one country or to the glass ceiling in another.

Now, of course, I think that the issue of sexual objectification comes well and truly under the umbrella of the women's movement, or feminism. And of course, I believe it to be a genuinely important, and currently relevant part of it. We are really no closer to winning the fight against the objectification of women, the trafficking and exploitation of women and girls into prostitution than we were 50 years ago. Sometimes I think we're further away than ever.
But it infuriates me a little that it took a dozen or so offended university students being offended (and rightly so) to start this movement.  That this is all about what we can and can't wear and who we can and can't sleep with.  That those things don't invite sexual assault.

And they don't.  And good on you for standing up for what you believe in.  The safety of young women in a modern metropolis to safely wear next to nothing and get drunk off her face, safely.

But why is it so hard to get people this passionate* about how women are treated elsewhere?  Where in Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Iran, a woman (or a boy) can be (and usually is) brutally punished as an 'adulteress' if she reports a rape.

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Why can't you get this worked up about the "corrective rapes" now rampant in South Africa and Zimbabwe, where  gays and lesbians are raped (and often murdered)  to 'cure' them of their sexual orientation.  The latest reported victim is a 13 year old little girl. It is reported that at least 10 women a week are subjected to 'corrective rape' in Cape Town alone. It is said that this practice is now growing more common in schools.

Did you know that the Democratic Republic of the Congo is considered the 'rape capital of the world'?  That the prevelance of rape and butchery is so high that it's been said “Sexual violence in Congo reaches a level never reached anywhere else. It is even worse than in Rwanda during the genocide.” Women and children (as young as 5 months old) are raped for months on end and butchered. Those that survive are usually shunned by their families and villages, and so incredibly physically injured that they can never have children again, and need colostomy bags as their reproductive and digestive systems are so badly damaged.

(This video isn't necessarily easy to watch, it is heartbreaking rather than graphic, but these women deserve, if nothing else, our attention and 3 or 4 minutes of our time).
 

A few months ago, I blogged about my heartbreak at a 4 day mass rape of over 300 women and children in Eastern Congo, just a few kms away from a UN mission.

An article published in the Journal of the American Medical Association estimated at that around 30 percent of women in the eastern Congo are survivors of conflict-related rape.

From http://www.thedailybeast.com/galleries/1717/

Maombi, 26 years old, lives in an IDP camp with her husband and four children. At the time of the attack against their village, she, her husband, and their youngest child were in their tent. Six men wearing military uniforms and speaking the Rwandan language Kinyarwanda tore into the tent with knives. Her husband ran away, but Maombi couldn’t get away fast enough with the child.

Inside, one attacker held a gun to her 4-year-old’s head, one pointed a gun at her, and the third raped her. They each took their turn, and said that she and her child would die if she cried. The child saw the entire sex attack.

Sometime during the attack Maombi lost consciousness. When the third of the men finished the rape, they set the tent on fire with Maombi and her child inside. Maombi survived, but with severe burns. The young child died.

“When my mind comes back, it is two weeks later," she says. "It was the time they informed me the baby died in the fire. It felt like a death I couldn’t imagine.”

Twenty-two-year old Basemae Maombi's eyes were cut out when she recognized one of the men raping her.

Honorata, is an 18 year old girl who was kidnapped and held captive as a sex slave for 3 months. Most of the time she was tied to a tree, unchained every day to be gang raped.

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So sure. March for your right to safety from sexual violence. Blog about the prevailing derision rape victims receive from those who snigger and whisper that they 'had it coming' or shouldn't have 'dressed like a slut'.


But please. Open your eyes. Look at the world around you and how horrific it is to be a woman in Africa or the Middle East or the Sub Continent.


Don't march for me. Don't dress in costume and turn this issue into a mockery, declaring it a march for human rights if you can't see the big picture.

March for them.

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Fight for them.  They need it more than any of us.

 

 

Adding this to this week's FYBF. Head over to The Glowess for details.

Weekend Rewind - Lessons

This week Alison over at Life in a Pink Fibro has set another Weekend Rewind Challenge.  I think I've missed the last week or two, so this was a good one for me to get back into.

From Allison:

I learnt three things today:
*things don't always go to plan,
*family is a wonderful support,
*it all works out in the end.


To that end, the theme for this week's Weekend Rewind is... Lessons. I don't mind if they're lessons learned, lessons taught, lessons attended, lessons ignored. The drill remains the same as always: become a friend of the Fibro if we are not already acquainted, link up an old post for some new comment love, visit as many other links as possible to share the comment love around.

I was fortunate enough that I wrote a blog post about this a couple of years ago, that won the Blog This (which I might add, has shut down this week!) Weekly Challenge, the first one I'd ever entered (it's ok to say that, I dont' think I won any others,lol). 


It was timely for me, it reminded me of something I so desperately needed to hear (and write) at that time.  I was battling crippling depression and anxiety, and was so very, very close to ending it all.

But a conversation I'd had with my Mother came to mind, and the rest of the post just came flowing from my fingertips, as the tears streamed from my eyes.

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So.  Here it is.  Pearls of Wisdom.

Polly Dolly - High Flyer

We're pretending it's still Thursday, and that Dani wasn't gallavanting off to Townsville and making me crave Mexican food. 

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Therefore, it's time for Polly to break out the imaginary credit card and go shopping - for a quick plane ride.  I think she's headed down to Sydney for a party night with some other fun bloggers!

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This outfit is strictly for the plane though.  Comfortable, but fairly typically 'my' Dolly.  A good, light book to read on the plane (the BEST thing about air travel), an iPhone or iPod for music, a bottle of water, some good moisturiser and this bag I fell in love with.  Polly has no restraint, she simply had to have it.

Polly Dolly - A Flying Visit by Melissa4444 featuring summer tops

Issa summer top
99 GBP - theoutnet.com

Seven For All Mankind distressed jeans
185 GBP - harveynichols.com

Dorothy Perkins green flat
18 GBP - dorothyperkins.com

Louis Vuitton cross body bag
$2,390 - louisvuitton.com

Wheeled travel luggage
$430 - macys.com

Forzieri Murano leaf necklace
$159 - forzieri.com

Turquoise jewelry
$47 - fantasyjewelrybox.com

H M beaded jewelry
1.99 GBP - hm.com

H m jewelry
hm.com

Elizabeth Arden Pure Finish tinted moisturiser SPF15
24 GBP - houseoffraser.co.uk

Lancome JUICY TUBES JELLY Ultra Shiny Lip Gloss
$18 - macys.com

FLIRT! BIG FLIRT Thickening Mascara
$12 - kohls.com

Apple iPod touch 32 GB (4th Generation)
$365 - amazon.com

Gaiam Bouquet Aluminum Water Bottle - Blue (750 ml) : Target
$13 - target.com

Feel like joining in? It's easy.  Go to Polyvore and start creating the set of your dreams.  Then pop over to Danimezza and join in the linkup.

Let's see if, true to form, Thea and I end up with remarkably similar Polly's.  Our girls seem to have the same feminine, girly taste. :)

Seeing Red..

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Tape, that is.  There are times that mindless, senseless bureaucracy makes me stabby.  Today is one of those days.  This morning, Mrs Woog over at Woogsworld linked to this article on Twitter

This little man's name is Saiman Hussaini and he is 14 months old.  As you can see, he is ill.  He was born with Muscular Dystrophy.  And even worse, his Mama died while giving birth to him. 

So his Daddy,  Mr Hussaini, a Pakistani refugee, now an Australian citizen who has been here a decade,  is left to raise his little man on his own.

From http://www.abc.net.au/

The Federal Government is refusing to grant visas to the Pakistani family of a seriously ill boy in Adelaide.


The relatives of Saiman Hussaini have appealed to the Prime Minister to visit the 14-month-old boy, who was born with muscular dystrophy in Adelaide's Women's and Children's Hospital.

But the Government has rejected the requests because of concerns the family would not return to Pakistan.

Saiman's mother died while giving birth to him and now his father, Fareed Hussaini, is trying to raise him alone.  Mr Hussaini, an Australian citizen who arrived 10 years ago as a refugee from Quetta in Pakistan, has made his life in Adelaide.

"It is very, very hard. If anyone loses a family, loses a wife or husband, they know what I'm feeling," Mr Hussaini said.
His wife Saima also came from Quetta. Her family was excitedly waiting for the birth of Saiman in March last year.

Instead, her mother Zakia Assa Khan and her brother Mohammad Atif Ali received the news that Saima had died.  Ms Khan says the moment she found out her daughter had died felt like "the sky and earth" had fallen on her.  Saima's brother, Mr Ali, says he was in total shock.  "It was almost unbelievable. I [did] not [believe] that my sister was dead," he said.

Saima's family wants to come to Australia to find out why she died and to see baby Saiman, who is too ill and disabled to travel to them.

Saiman's grandmother and uncle applied for visas to visit Australia in November last year, but they were rejected by the Department of Immigration.

Department spokesman Sandi Logan says the decision was based on several factors.

But human rights advocate and registered migration agent Marion Le believes the outcome is inhumane and tragic for Saiman and his father.
"This is clearly a compassionate case. You've got an Australian citizen here in Australia with an Australian citizen child and they are both suffering," she said.
Saiman's family received a notice saying their visas were rejected because immigration officials believe the situation is so dangerous in Quetta, the family may refuse to return from Australia.

The notice says: "Since the year 2003, more than 260 people belonging to the Hazaran community in Quetta have been killed in targeted shootings and more than 1,000 injured".

Saiman's relatives are members of the Hazara ethnic group, of which, a large number settled in Quetta because of sectarian killings and discrimination in Afghanistan.

Ms Le says the frank assessment by the department is remarkable and could be "solid gold" for anyone in the area wanting to seek refugee status in Australia.

But baby Saiman's uncle, Mr Ali, says the family is not seeking asylum in Australia, just a visit.

"We want justice from the Australian Government that our family see the baby," he said.

The family has written to Julia Gillard and Immigration Minister Chris Bowen pleading for permission to visit Australia, but Mr Logan says the decision may not be any different.

"This is not a visa application that has been rejected that can be appealed, so there'll be no reconsideration," he said.

Baby Saiman's grandmother says she still dreams that one day she will be able to come to Australia and hold her grandson.

By South Asia correspondent Sally Sara

I know that immigration laws are a sticky subject in this country.  I know that people are heavily divided on the matter.  And I confess to being a 'bleeding heart leftie" who thinks our immigrations laws are far to stringent and that we can afford to open our shores to more people.

I also am a realist and understand the other side of the story, where people say we have to think more long term, about sustainablility.  And that others still worry about security risks.

To that last one, I say Pfft. Can we really not see ourselves clear to take each family on a case-by-case basis and see that in this one, at least, it is simply a matter of compassion?  This man needs his family around him.  He needs familiar people, who understand his loss and his grief and who can love Saiman like he does.

Personally, I think they should be allowed to move here, should they wish to do so to suppport him.  But they aren't even asking for that.  They just want to see him.

But no.  There's too much chance they'll actually like it here.  Prefer it to the dangerous conditions they are living in.  Want to stay with their son and brother-in-law and grandson.

I say let them.  I say, Ms Gillard and Chris Bown, let them.  Show some humanity for heaven's sake. Forget the polls, for just a moment (oh! The horror!) and let this baby meet his family.

My first double FYBF entry!  Glowess is hosting Flog Your Blog Friday at the moment, so hop on over and join in.