Mar 12 2008

Evil Judy Garland…

Tag: In a dark wood, wandering...cerebralmum @ 10:25 pm

Ever had one of those days when you’ve slogged through some of the hardest things you have to do and then, when the sun goes down, you realise that you’ve gotten exactly nowhere? That’s today. Intellectually, I know things are step by step and today’s steps count but, to mix clichéd metaphors, it still feels like a house of cards and the road ahead is long.

Ever feel as though - if you’re the puppeteer of your own life - there are too many strings to manage and while one limb is dancing to your tune, the other is flailing? Somewhere along the line, things must get easier. I liked being young and irresponsible, able to just cut strings. Now, I have no choice but to arduously untangle them all, hoping nothing breaks in the process.

Ever feel like there is an evil Judy Garland in your head singing, It never ra-ains, but what it po-ours… in her chirpy little voice just to drive you insane? So what if all your troubles come in bunches, keep sticking to your silly little hunches…

And the sun will come shining through.

Yeah, right.

I’m a child of Nirvana. I need depressive music to cheer me up. So I’m turning up Lisa Germano and listening to Cancer of Everything.

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Feb 20 2008

So goes the war…

Tag: Saffron noodlescerebralmum @ 10:33 pm

I’m stressed at the moment and it is getting in the way of me getting things done. I haven’t been meeting my own deadlines for getting the WinterWarm site finished, even though I’m so close. I’ve hardly written a thing on my other blog, and what I have published has been uptight and, well, basically pretty crappy.

And another thing is stressing me out. Feel free to stop reading now because there is nothing tackier than whining about money and that is what I’m going to do.

Basically, my income doesn’t actually cover the bills I need to pay. I put in an application a while ago to draw down some of my home equity to clear some debts and help me fix a few things at the house so I could sell it but nobody ever got back to me. Needless to say, my credit card company has had enough and I now have a month to come up with $8,500. That’s pretty hard when, after paying a home loan, a personal loan and some of your minimum cc payment, all you have left for the rest of life’s expenses (you know, like food and electricity, or replacing glasses) is less than $200 a month.

So I get on my bank’s case and ask what is going on with the loan. I get a message back simply saying, Sorry but it was not approved. Er, thanks for letting me know.

But I understand. My credit rating is screwy. It all went pear-shaped after the indecent assault by an employer, when I left my job (obviously) and went spiraling into depression.

However, the things that shits me is that I have, at a minimum, $60,000 equity in that house. There is no danger to the bank. Especially because drawing down on my home loan will actually reduce all my expenses each month making it easier for me to pay the damn home loan. Especially because drawing down on the loan would make it easier for me to sell the thing and give them all their damn money back.

Basically they’re saying, We don’t trust you to pay less than you do right now. Does that makes sense? Well, no. But banks have their little ways.

So I wrote back asking what I could do. Could I go higher up and appeal the decision? Could I reduce the figure being applied for? And so on and so on. They have said they might approve it if I can get a family member to be a guarantor. Um, yeah.

My mother lives in Sudan: I don’t think they’ll want her signature. My sister is living on income insurance because of her spinal injury and has her own home loan to pay. And she’s already stretched from paying the bills for a household of 3 because I can’t afford my fair share of the utilities.

Does trying to find a solution to this feel too hard? Yes, it does. Is sitting here whining about it going to help? No, it’s not. Right at this moment, can I think of anything better to do? In a word… No.

But c’est la guerre, right? C’est la guerre…

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Jan 08 2008

What am I thinking ?

Tag: In a dark wood, wandering...cerebralmum @ 11:58 pm

Nothing.

I’m pretty sure I’ve thought about nothing today.

Well, not nothing of course, but nothing important. It’s been another day of speeding through distractions while responsibilities which need more immediate attention are ignored. Perhaps I need to stop letting that trouble me: It only makes me bury my head deeper.

At the moment, I feel a little spaced out. I can’t remember what day it is and time is making no sense. Today I gave Caspar lunch at 3pm. I don’t normally do that. If he’d been hungry he would’ve let me know, he would’ve stood at the refrigerator pointing or opened the cupboard and brought me a box of crackers, so I don’t feel guilty about it. Or, not much. I just feel something a little bit like tension, and a little bit like floating. I am disoriented.

Because I’ve had so many things going on, at least in cyberspace, I haven’t really stopped to see where my head is at. Who has time to do that anyway? That was what the counselling appointments were supposed to be for; one hour every couple of weeks away from my responsibilities with no one to think about but myself.

Except those counselling appointments never eventuated.

The day I was supposed to have the second one someone called to say that Counsel was ill and that she would call me tomorrow to reschedule. But no one called. And no one called the day after that or the day after that. It’s been six weeks now. The obvious question, of course, is Why didn’t I just call them? I don’t have an answer.

I’ve gone through a range of emotions about it, at low volume so that it’s only background noise and not screaming: Disappointment, especially after the optimism of the first visit, and a childlike sense of betrayal. Anger too, I guess, but anger isn’t something I understand very well. I’m not good at it. I’m uncomfortable with it.

Thinking about it now (Yes, I’m thinking. Would that I weren’t.) the strongest feeling is one that has coloured much of my life; that Orphan feeling which reveals itself as either, Why does no one ever take care of me?, or, I am an island.

I am an island.

Perhaps it’s an issue of trust. It’s not that I’m not a trusting person, I mean, the kind of person who is afraid, who doesn’t put themselves out there, who protects themselves at all costs from dangers unknown. I’m not like that. I’m brave, and daring and lay everything on the line. But underneath whatever risks I take with my thoughts or with my feelings or with my Self, being open about who I am and where I’m at, I think there is an expectation of disappointment which has too often been met. An expectation that regardless of how I value myself, my value won’t be recognised, or appreciated, or even acknowledged.

After a numb day, many numb days, writing this is bringing tears to my ears. Because what I’ve written might sound like the words of a petulant teenager but it feels so very true. I am far from being a cynic. In truth, I am a humanist, an idealist. But I am not hopeful.

I dive into life on principal because I think that’s the way we should live, that losing out on experiences because of fear or missing connections because of vulnerability is too great a cost to pay. Because the attempt, if not the chance, will always be worth more than the pain. I stand by that. I believe it’s true. But right now, what am I thinking?

I’m thinking perhaps the principal isn’t enough. I’m thinking that the failing in me is a lack of hope.

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Dec 11 2007

And now back to miserable… or not…

Tag: In a dark wood, wandering...cerebralmum @ 10:47 pm

I have had hellish days this week.  Truly dreadful ones, and the worst of it seems to ebb and flow like a tide.  I am so grateful that somewhere way back in the recesses of my mind there is a tiny voice that tells me the things that I am feeling are not real, or not rational, or not forever. Or whatever.

Because there have been hours this week when I literally wished I was dead.  When I understood how people could be moved to disappear from the face of the earth. As awful as that feeling is, all the longing to just be gone, or injure myself, or…, there is a line somewhere in me that has been drawn and and I trust that those feelings do not have the power to hurt me.  To drive me to hurt me.

That’s something.

In fact, that’s a big something.  It doesn’t fix this problem, or any of the logistical problems of my life at the moment that leave me not just feeling trapped, but actually being trapped. But it’s a sign of some resilience.

And I can’t figure out what to do right now, with this blog.  I want so much to make it a good one, but I’m all over the place and I cannot give it a coherent voice. Part of me wants to remove that little blurb in the sidebar and breeze through it as though nothing is going on under the surface. If I did, though, I would immediately feel out of control.

Another part of me feels as though that blurb is belied when I write about practical or trivial or abstract things.  But I can’t help that I guess.  So it is what it is.

If where I am right now breaks what I am trying to build, I’ll just have to build it again.

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Oct 05 2007

Ten random things…

Tag: Saffron noodlescerebralmum @ 11:27 am

I’ve been meme‘d again. This time by Joh. I’m one of the chosen ones she would love to learn more about. How flattering is that?

So here they are, Ten Random Facts About ME…

  1. When I was little my Mum had really great jobs. She worked as a live-in cook in a monastery so I used to skite that I had 12 brothers. She owned a general store so I used to steal all the lollies. And she was a Play School presenter (but in New Zealand) so I got to play with Big Ted and Little Ted on set. Could your Mum have a better job than that?
  2. I hate ants. I’m not freaked out by snakes or spiders or any other creepy crawlies. Just ants. I once had a dream where I saw a little girl and as I got closer I could see her slowly turn into a doll and there were ants all over her, coming out of her mouth. Yup. I hate ants.
  3. I have had platinum blonde hair and pink hair and purple hair and black hair and no hair but never red hair. That would just highlight the freckles which I loathe.
  4. I “failed” Year 10 but never repeated it. We moved to Melbourne and my new school let me go on to Year 11. I still think the numbers didn’t add up to failure. They just didn’t like my attitude. Trying to make me repeat the year that was too easy to bother with? Way to challenge a smart kid, people!
  5. Okay, now this one is going to sound really, really bad. I’m just warning you. Once, I slept with 3 different guys all on the same day. Now, I’m pretty stingey with my sexual “favours” but I just happened to get 3 random visits from 3 different ex’s, all of whom I still love and adore. The first 2 I can discount as a consequence of residual feeling. The 3rd one was just because I thought it was funny.
  6. I like to have painted toenails at all times but hate painted fingernails. They just look tacky.
  7. I haven’t travelled much, even though I’ve always wanted to. I’ve only been to New Zealand, Cyprus and Italy. I feel envious when people talk about their travels. This really sucks when my Mum has spent the last 10 years living and working all over the world. She blogged here. Go give her a kick in the pants and tell her to start writing again.
  8. I am privately vain.
  9. I’ve just applied to get back into university to finish my history degree. This freaks me out. I am horrified by the idea that I might not get in and feel like a teenager whose life will be ruined if she can’t do want she wants. I am so freaked out I think I may have missed some forms I had to fill out. I really need to chase that up. Today.
  10. I have never had a job that utilised the best of me.

I won’t tag anyone because I don’t know that many bloggers yet but if anyone would like to be tagged, let me know and I will add your name here.

Thanks for the meme, Joh.

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Sep 10 2007

Brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous….

Tag: Opinioncerebralmum @ 10:45 pm
We ask ouselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?… Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t be insecure around you. Marianne Williamson

Bec left this quote for me today on my post, Imagine if… and it says far more succinctly and purposefully one of the things I was trying to say. It says something I have known for a long time and that knowledge has kept my head above water through some dark days.

But knowing it and living it are two different things.

There have been times in my life when I have lived it; when I’ve spoken with the courage of my convictions, when I’ve given my feelings and ideas the respect they’ve deserved, when I’ve revelled in my own existence. Memories of those times have been sustaining while living as a shadow of myself for the last few years but they have also been a temptation to regress.

You can’t go back to the girl you were because you are now so much more! Mourn her if you must, but don’t let her keep your eyes closed to a new world. Rob on Minutiae… or I am nobody…

I started this blog as a lazy way to stay in touch with the diaspora of my family and in the process I remembered the power of writing. Not just the power of writing, but the power of my writing. I remembered my ability to write myself into existence. I remembered the fullness of words and faintly heard my forgotten voice.

I changed the subtitle of this blog to thinking my way back to myself… and took my first steps on that journey. Yesterday, when I wrote Imagine if.., those first steps became a stride.

Often in life it is when someone else’s needs are greater than your own that your potential becomes your reality. Often, when you can not care enough about yourself to be fully present in the world, you can find a reason to in others.

Yesterday’s post was difficult to write but not because it was deeply personal or painful. I have been at peace with the ugliness of my history for a long time. My childhood is a part of what made me who I am. I have learned many things, things that I am proud to have learned, not because of my experience, or in spite of my experience, but through my experience. I don’t wish anyone to have to learn those things the way I did, but I would not change my history if I could.

The reason yesterday’s post was difficult to write was because it would be confronting for those reading it. I had to overcome the hurdle of that social taboo that tells us we cannot talk about politics and religion at a dinner party, that tells us we cannot discuss subjects that cause controversy, that tells us we will make people uncomfortable.

I wrote about child sexual abuse and it is very common for victims to fear speaking up. In many cases they have been living with a “behind closed doors” and “keeping up appearances” mentality for a long time. The power of that taboo keeps them silent and they minimise their experiences in order to contain them, making them mistrust themselves.

But the reason I wrote what I wrote was not just to speak out against child sexual abuse, even though that issue is of enormous importance and needs to be written about over and over until it no longer exists. The issue is broader.

It is not just victims of CSA who live under the weight of this taboo. How many things do we stay silent about in this world? How many people learn to live, like myself, as shadows for fear of offending?

Self-censorship is a social disease.

I cannot attribute my own self-censorship to that specific part of my history. It may have been one of the paths which led me to it but I am an adult and I believe that I am free. Knowing that I made myself who I am, I am able to take credit for who I am. And when who I am falls short of my own aspirations or my own principles, knowing that I am free allows me to accept the imperfection of my humanity without ever seeing it as the final measurement of my self.

Yesterday, outside events moved me to overcome that taboo which I gave power to. I am proud that I did.

And I like talking about politics and religion at dinner parties.

And I choose controversy over Let’s agree to disagree…, which is a noble sentiment only when not used as a coward’s weapon to shame others into silence.

And I like it when I make people uncomfortable. Writing Imagine if… was an uncomfortable process for me and I am closer to my aspirations and my principles because of it.

I like being brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous. And I am grateful when other people are.

Those people light the way. And I can be one of them.

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Aug 24 2007

And the suburbs came creeping…

Tag: On writing...cerebralmum @ 11:47 pm

It’s too long since I’ve written. It was never this hard. It was never this hard knot in my chest that feels like tears. I’ve have too much to say. I have forgotten how to say it.

It was never this hard when I made myself jugs of coffee and brandy and typed through the night with the city lights creeping through my apartment, knowing all the while there were people still awake, still out in the streets, still living. It was never this hard when I was sitting in a corner of the Supper Club at 3am with my notebooks and a Pedro Ximénez, surrounded by people, alone but never lonely.

I hate living in the suburbs. When did I decide to stop being? I didn’t. It just came creeping and that’s far, far worse. It’s easy to live with the consequences of decision. You have answers to all your whys; you can respect your choices even when they’re wrong. But this creeping passivity, this loss of passion, this degrading slide into conformity…

I hate living in the suburbs. I hate this lack of will in me. I hate this non-entity I’m trapped inside. I hate being surrounded by clean concrete and new bricks and people who speak in nothings. I hate my hollow voice.

I guess there are things that have happened in my life, there are people, I could blame for where I am and I see the temptation but I refuse attribute my life to others. I refuse to abdicate. So instead, I don’t like myself. I am ashamed.

And after stating so categorically that I am a writer I cannot find words. There are times when reading breaks me down, breaks through that barrier freezing my fingers at the keyboard, but today was not one of them. Today, reading Girl’s Gone Child’s past and present futures, reading that she’s on the road again with a Kerouac quote in her pocket, I saw the sad echo of myself and had to face my stasis. Even her predilection for guitarists and Henry Miller was a mirror, an accusing reflection of who I am, or who I was, or that person I’ve failed by no longer being.

But the future is tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, and life doesn’t have to creep in this petty pace from day to day. Somewhere in me there is a breath. It is a hard knot in my chest that feels like tears and I will write it until I am no longer a walking shadow.

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