Archive for August, 2013



One thing I really miss about Greg is that, when I had a rough day, he would let me download to him and he would make things OK.

…and yesterday, I really needed to blurt out what an incredibly crappy day I had* and have someone tell me that it was done and that I was OK and that tomorrow was a new day.

But I didn’t have anyone I could blather on to about the really shitty day I had, so I tossed and turned and worried all night, before metaphorically girding my loins and throwing myself into the lion’s den again today (and thank goodness today was so much better than yesterday).

I know I could have phoned a friend, but this was not a rational conversation that I could inflict on anyone other than Greg who knew me so well he knew exactly how I was feeling and what I needed.

A man I knew so well I could download all of the angst in my brain without fear of offense, or  misunderstanding, or over-sharing, or overwhelming  him, or being judged.
Knowing that he would take my scattered thoughts and help me to reorganise them into something I could carry again.
Knowing he would help me see things in a new light and to gain a bit of perspective.

…and then he’d give me a hug and rub my back and tell me everything would be OK tomorrow….

* Yesterday involved: a day of party food (ie heavily artificially flavoured and coloured, sugary, fatty  food) from the tuckshop at first break; a whole bunch of kids who reacted badly to all those flavours, colours and additives; an anaphylactic reaction to a food additive which was not checked thoroughly enough by the tuckshop lady; and lots of anxiety and other related behavioural problems in my bunch of challenging-but-charming kids.Oh … and I still had to teach them and make sure they were learning – that’s the easy part.


Why this is your fault

If you hadn’t died. I wouldn’t have had to fight for insurance money to help care for our children.

If I hadn’t had to fight for insurance money, I would not have been sent the forms that had to be witnessed by a JP.

If I hadn’t had to have my signature witnessed by a JP I would never have been bitten (“mouthed”) by his dog.

If his gumby dog hadn’t clipped my thumb with his tooth when I bent down to pat it, I wouldn’t have got an infected hand.

If I didn’t have an infected hand, I wouldn’t have had a fever.

If I didn’t have a fever, I wouldn’t have taken a day off work.

If I hadn’t taken the day off work, I would have been rushing to get ready instead of going  outside with the rubbish that morning and sprained my ankle (badly) falling down a single step.

If I hadn’t sprained my ankle, I wouldn’t have gone to the doctor.

If I hadn’t gone to the doctor, she wouldn’t have asked about my infected hand.

If she didn’t ask about my infected hand, she wouldn’t have given me antibiotics.

If she hadn’t given me antibiotics, I wouldn’t be sitting here with nausea, intermittent diarrhea and expecting the third side effect to be hitting me any time soon.

So that’s why being beached on the couch with a buggered ankle, vomit bucket and intermittent mad, limping dashes to the toilet is YOUR FAULT.

At least my hand is not infected anymore.

I miss you.

I love you.



You found me

I opened my facebook today.  This is what I read:

Amanda, The Moon And Me

In Uncategorized on August 7, 2013 at 12:21 pm

Amanda, I saw the man you’re going to marry
Just hours before you
He was laying his head down
To sleep

(he said)

“Moon, tell Amanda I saw you and remind her that when she sees you,
she must remember that our eyes saw the same light,
(no matter how far apart
we are,
the light,

Amanda, the man you’re going to marry
feeds the dogs and the cat
and he doesn’t mind
because he spends his time

(he said)

“Moon, tell Amanda that time passes differently, it goes slower when we’re far
and too fast when we’re not,
things are always changing,
(but at least,
the moon,

Amanda, the man you’re going to marry
hates how quiet the house is
and the animals crowd around
when your voice

(he said)

“Moon, tell Amanda, the man who’s going to marry her
loves her,
he misses her
(and he knows
you feel,



Iain S. Thomas


I was meant to see this today.  I know it is from you.  Thank you.

I love you.

I miss you.



The fury

The fury

After three-and-a-half years, I can cope with most days.
Some days are sad.
Some days are just part of the grey melange I seem to be constantly wading through.
Some days are good (not great – nothing is great).
And some days I am Just Furious.

But I don’t know where to direct this fury…

I am furious that my life is not what I worked so hard for.
I am furious at God….. on the days I choose to believe he exists.
I am furious that I have lost my faith.
I am furious at Greg for dying.
I am furious that I haven’t even had the stability of a job to go to each day….. I am furious that I have had to fight to keep the job I love and am good at (at least this year I have a boss who is actively working to keep me and who argues with the staffing officer on my behalf).

I am furious with myself for not coping like I want to.

I know this is not ideal.
I should be calmer, and for the most part, I am.
For the most part I am a kind, functional, rational human being.

But some days, the anger at How This Happened To Me is so strong that I want to scream and shout at the Universe.
…and then the feeling passes and I go back to this new normal.