Listen

Right now I am laying on my bed, with the air conditioner working away above me. I smell fresh bread rolls, straight out of the oven. I hear Samuel laughing and Alexander chatting away to his father. Occasionally, Joel's voice breaks through as he indulges them both. 

I'm here, locked away in my own room, away from all of it. I am trying not to spit my own venom at my family, trying not to let my mood ruin everyone's night. It's possible that it's too late, they've already felt the tensioni and looked at me, trying to work out where it all went wrong. 

I wish I knew. I wish I could tell them. I have no idea. I just flipped, in an instant. From happy and smiling, oking with Alexander and being hugged by Samuel. Making everyone's dinner and looking forward to my own. 

Mere seconds later, my shulders are bunched up and my foot is shaking - I can't stay still. I am inexplicably angry and I snapped. I made Samuel cry and Joel feel stressed. He's trying to pacify them, cheer them up. It sounds as though he is doing a good job of it. They sound as though they've forgotten that their mother has been a moody, horrible person for a few minutes, ruining all of their fun. 

So I sit in here, the air moving around, listening to this, trying to get my emotions back in check.

It is beautiful, and with Samuel's laughter in the background, I ought to feel entirely differently. What is wrong with me? Why is this happening? Why can I not just be stable? Why are these swings so abrupt, and so sharp? How can I feel so good for so much of the day, so happy for so many hours, and then shift so completely? How can I help him feel better if I can't keep stable myself.

I need a few more minutes. I need to listen a few more times before I try to go back out there. Before I try to keep a smile on my face, listen to the endless chatter and join in. A few more deep breaths, a little longer with my eyes closed and my door locked. Sometimes, I hate me.

It's been 20 minutes. I've listened about 6 or 7 times now. I hear them in the bath. Alexander is singing his masterpiece - "Rock Me" {They are literally the only two songs in the song. And it goes on for eleventybillion years}. Something is working. It may be the piano. It may be the sound of happy children. It may be just from writing it down. It's probably all three.

But I do so wish that this would stop happening. It's exhausting to be this kind of crazy.

Oscar and Reeva and Stella Young's theory.

You would have to have been living under a rock to not have heard about the Oscar Pistorius Case making headlines all around the world at the moment. The shocking shooting death of his girlfriend, model Reeva Steenkamp.

Oscar Pistorius is, of course famous for being a world Paralympic sprinter, and for famously being the first double-amputee to compete at the Summer Olympics in London last year {I guess you'd call them the Able-Bodied Olympics, to differentiate?}. So it's fair to say that Pistorius is known to the public because of his disability. 

Obviously, this is an incredibly high profile story. There is a media circus happening right now, with speculation and confusion.  At this point, there are few known, confirmed facts. We know that Oscar shot Reeva 4 times through a locked bathroom door. We know that there was a cricket bat with blood stains found at the scene. We know that Pistorius is claiming horrible accident, that he believed there was an intruder. We know that the prosecution is claiming premeditated murder. That is all we know for sure.  As far as I've read, everything else is speculation.

Now, as Pistorius is famous, the profile of this case was always going to be high. That a young woman, with an established career, and seemingly the world at her feet, of course this is also going to make the case even more notorious. 

But I read this morning an article written by Stella Young, a staunch advocate of the section of the population with disabilities {and their carers}. Ms Young so often speaks about disability services and rights, as well as the way that people with disabilities are treated. About looking past a disability and seeing the person for other things, not related to what perhaps they can't do. I often love to read what Stella writes, her insights and perspective are important in our landscape. 

Which I guess was why I was so disappointed to read the way that she approached this case. She wrote on ABC's The Drum that we are all "we are ill-prepared to cope with the idea of a disabled man charged with murder

She writes that Pistorius is placed upon a pedestal and that we need to believe him to be an inspirational, flawless person. And of course, no matter the inspiration found in his career, to believe him flawless {whether guilty or innocent of this crime} is ridiculous and unfair.

Pistorius was repeatedly held as a role model in media and civic discussion. We love "against the odds" stories; narratives like that of Helen Keller are lapped up by a culture hungry for "inspiration".And that's the problem with role models; they are very rarely what we think.If Pistorius is found guilty of murder, he will have committed two crimes. The first is clear. The second is failing to live up to the impossible ideal of a disabled role model.In recent days, allegations of Pistorius' complex character have emerged. And, again, I can hear a sharp intake of breath. In a world that barely accepts the idea of a disabled man who would protest a victory on the track, we are ill-prepared to cope with the idea of a disabled man charged with murder.

Stella speaks as though his disability propels him to hero status that other {not disabled} people would not reach. That the world is shocked by this because he was an 'inspirational' athlete, because of his disablility.

I could not disagree more. And I find it so odd that Stella has chosen to view it this way. In no way have I ever thought of this case in terms of his disability.  While I agree, some portions of the media have done so, for me it isn't remotely relevant in this case.

My shock is a man (any man or woman) at basically the pinnacle of his career (any career), with so much to live for, now having his entire life in the balance, probably over. A young woman with so much to live for, also at the top of her career, being shot down in her prime. 

By all accounts, Ms Steenkamp was a wealthy, beautiful, famous young woman, with not only a career before her but also a person who wanted to be a strong advocate for women, fighting the horrific levels of violence committed against women in South Africa. This {to me} makes this feel even more tragic, such a waste of a life. And by all accounts, though it was early days, She and Oscar were apparently happy together - certainly a glamour couple in South Africa.

I'm fascinated by the case, intrigued as to what on earth went wrong. Horrified at the suddenness and the horror. But I have not, at a single point thought of it in terms of a disability. 

Ms Young so often writes about wanting us to see past a disability.  So I'm really disappointed that that is the angleshe has chosen to use in this article. I feel as though it is simply perpetuating the very thing she {rightly} rails against. 

I felt annoyance that she seemed to tar everyone with the same brush. I feel that most people observing this case are managing to do so without for a moment feeling his disability (and to be honest, I think the fact that he is an incredibly strong, fit, virile man kind of makes one forget the disability except in the context of his races) is important to the case. 

I've not (in my own mind) deemed his guilty or innocent of a premeditated murder. I fear that steroid use (as I've read there were some found in his home) will play a role in this tragedy - as it so often does in cases such as these, with athletes killing themselves or their families. But again, this is simply speculation. Unconfirmed. And a bit of a stereotype (though usually, these are such for a reason and it would not be the first time that terrible violence has taken place as a result of these types of drugs}.

What do you think? Do you feel less likely to believe him guilty because of his disability? More likely? Do you think it bears any relevance at all into this case?

Clouds

It's raining here in South East Queensland. Pouring. It rained all of last week while we were up in Caloundra on our holiday and we seemed literally to bring it back with us - the rain chased us home. 

The forecast is for several more days of this - another week, it seems. I've spoken so many times about just how I love the rain. The romantic, soft rain that brings back the memory of a beautiful, magical moment. 

I've talked about cleansing rain that seemed to come just when I needed it. Rain that inspired me to write, to read poetry, to be connected to that part of me that loves words..

This doesn't seem to be that kind of rain. It's the kind of rain that wants to turn umbrellas in on themselves. Or at least, a wind that renders them nearly useless anyway. It is incessantly dark, heavy and oppressive. Or at least, my mood is.

I have noticed in the past 2 weeks that the tides are shifting. Where a couple of weeks ago I was floating - exercising, taking care of myself, dressing up and feeling happy; now I am not. A week of enforced missed exercise and then food poisoning didn't help. Perhaps not having seen the sun in more than a week is too. Is this what people mean when they talk about Seasonal Moods? This gloomy, anxious depression.

I feel desperately lonely. With just one or two exceptions, I feel almost estranged even from my online friends. And as a dear friend pointed out, I really need to start getting out again, connecting with other people. 

I walk around the school every morning and the ghosts of them are everywhere. A flash of platinum blonde, a tan - there she is! My heart skips a moment, it's P! Of course, it's not. 
I walk behind someone who must be C. It's not, it never is. Oh, how I wish it were.
This school is almost identical to the last, classroom layout, canteen, uniform shop, Admin - they are all where they used to be. My mind plays tricks with my heart and I smile - my girls! Of course it's not. They aren't my girls anymore. This isn't my school anymore. Those aren't my friends anymore. 

I'm lonely. It's hard to admit. I have a good friend or three online. Women that mean so much to me. That I wish so much I lived closer to. But there's nobody here. Nobody who smiles when they see me. No more hugs every day. Nobody to lean on, or who wants to lean on me. I'm not her anymore. Maybe I never will be again.

I don't know how to try again. I don't know how to reach out. My confidence is shot. My trust even worse. For the amazing high I felt for a year and a half, the low has lasted longer. The missing them has now lasted longer than having them. How can I do that again? Best to stay detached. 

But I know that's not good for me. I have to find a way to change my situation. But how?

For now..

Admit it

I've seen news stories just about everywhere over the past couple of days, about the confirmation that the remains found in England back in September are indeed the remains of Richard III, who was killed {rather horribly} more than 600 years ago. 

Word has it that his remains were discovered underneath a car park in Leicester, England in early September 2012. Scientists were fortunate enough to be able to access DNA of one of the last descendants of Richard III and were, by all accounts, rather lucky to do so, as the line was soon to die out. Perhaps a few years from now, this confirmation would not have been possible.

Anyway. The important part. My point.... Does he look familiar to you? Possibly not in situ, but the model that has been made?

No? Still not seeing it?  Let me help you a little...

Come on - you can see Lord Farquaad now, can't you? 

Wobb-a-lies on {Not really} Wordless Wednesday

We purchased a coupon to take the boys to Alma Park Zoo a few months ago. It expired on Saturday and of course, it wasn't until Saturday that we got around to using it. We had been saving it to use in the last weekend before school went back here in Queensland, but that was the week the Big Wet decided to get in on the Brisbane-floods-every-January-now act {3 in a row now? Really?!}. 

Then the zoo was closed down for a week as they recovered from the damage {no animals were harmed in the making of that Big Wet. But the park was trashed - trees and palm fronds galore were strewn throughout. It took them a full week to clean it up}.

Anyway, they opened up on the last day possible to use that voucher. Thank Goodness. I hate wasting money - it may have been a ridiculously good deal {It cost us $38 for the family. It would normally cost $105 to get in}. 

Samuel was really struggling at first. He wasn't familiar with the Zoo, and that was difficult with him. He struggled with the smells, the sounds - spent a lot of the day asking us to go home. Or to the cafe. I hated that cafe by 10am - he would not shut up about it. He'd seen a truck in there that he wanted and that was it. He was fixated. 

But - despite that we managed to have a lovely time together - even Sammy. He fed Kangaroos and "Wobb-a-lies", emus and deer. He held an alligator and patted a boa constrictor. He spoke to the spider monkeys and wanted desperately to be in the cage with them {"so when the peoples comes in to feed us we can ec-scape out of there"}. 

I've not been to Alma Park since I was Alexander's age. We used to go reasonably often {as a child, we lived on the same road}. I'm glad we went, though I can't wait to take the boys to see some more exotic animals at Australia Zoo also.

Linking up to Trish's Wordless Wednesday.

Giving it a Go

I have seen, over the years so many Photo-A-Day challenges. I've never felt even nearly tempted to join in. Not really my thing. And until the 1st of this year, I wasn't even on Instagram, and I knew that that was how people seemed to share their photos. 

But. I said at the beginning of the year that I was going to take more photos, share more photos and be IN more photos. And I have been - as my poor Facebook Friends can probably attest {rolling their eyes at the noob uploading dozens of photos}. So. I will attempt. I stumbled across Chantel's FMS February Photo-a-day.

I am going to try to give it a go. I may not get them all, because this is still not a habit for me. And I might not be terribly artistic or creative - at this stage I'm hoping to point-and-shoot with my new phone {Got the Galaxy S3 - still trying to work the thing out, which is embarrassing because I have come from the S2 - shouldn't I already know it?}. I will be trying to form a habit for now - creativity can come later. 

Today is February 1st and the theme for today is Fork. And seriously? Fork. How can I be creative with fork? Of course, I'll log onto Instagram later and everyone will have done just that. Still. It's a start. I might share my photos every weekend, rather than at the end of the month {if anyone knows how to make an instagram mosaic on an Android - I'd be indebted to you if you helped me find an app}. 

Have a wonderful February.  Down hill to the cooler weather from here. :)

And in the meantime, for those of you not stuck with my face on Facebook all of the last month - some of my instagrams from January.

Do you take a lot of photos? Are you in them? Do you find it hard to make yourself be in photos? I've been wanting to for a long time now - in that I want the boys to grow up and see photos of them with me. I don't have any (well, I have a wedding shot) of me with my mother. And I realised a little while ago that if I died they would not have any proof of me having been an active part of their lives.

Can't say that now, can we? :-)