Monthly Archives: May 2016

Riding The Sympathy Train. – RRSAHM

Riding The Sympathy Train.

by Lori Dwyer on April 12, 2011 · 65 comments

Some days, I wonder how I became the bad guy in all of this.

Other days, I don’t wonder. I fucking know. It started with this post. And continued with this one.

That’s fact, as far I know- I’ve been told it to my face. I blogged, I wrote the truth. And then I told everyone who didn’t like it to fuck off.

So they did.

And this is the part where I whine- but I was just telling the truth.

Do I regret writing that post…? I ask myself that a lot. I’ve toyed with the idea of deleting it.. but I won’t. It’s my story, it’s my truth. It’s real, and it’s fucked.

Again, sometimes I wonder why that pissed people off so much. And, other times, I don’t need to wonder.

It’s pretty obvious. No one wants to read that stuff. No one wants to know what someone was like at what was possibly the worst time of their life.

But hatred… people turning away… that wasn’t what I expected, ever. It actually took me weeks to realise that was what happened. Naivety is a strong point of mine.

But.. seriously. I’ve lost the love of my life. I’ve lost the father to my children. i have to live with what he said to me, in the last minutes of his life, for the rest of mine.

Isn’t that enough? No matter what I did, while he was alive, what I’ve done, since he’s been dead, isn’t that enough punishment?

I know the people in Tony’s life have talked and discussed, how Tony’s only problem in life was with me.

I can’t believe everyone is convinced that that was enough to make him hang himself. As I keep saying, I know I’m no angel- but I no matter what I did, what I’ve done…. could I have really driven to do that?

The last remaining support I had from people’s in Tony’s life (relatives pretty much excluded here)disappeared when I made the mistake of telling him I’d pashed some random guy a few weeks after Tony died. Boo, hiss, Lori, you terrible slut.

And, of course… there’s the judgments on the sleeping pills, how much time I spend with my kids, even right down to how I treat my dog.

Fuck. Is it any wonder I’m losing my fucking mind here?

A dozen times, tony said to me “If anything ever happened to me, I’d like to think my mates would support you and the kids. No matter what. Even if we divorce, you’ll always be the mother of my kids, my best mate.”

Sometimes,I wonder what his so-called mates think he must be saying to himself now…

“Good work, boys, give that bitch of a wife of mine hell, she deserves it..”

Really?

After the pain I’ve already been through.. do you think he’d want anyone to be doing that to me?

One of the many things I was accused of by anonymous commenters who were, apparently, my husband’s good friends, and all seemed to know exactly what they would do if they were in my shoes, was ‘riding the sympathy train‘.

That one still baffles me.

A woman’s husband is dead. She had tiny children. Her husband’s friends have turned against her. And the only support she has is online.

What is it about that situation that doesn’t deserve sympathy?

What was I supposed to be doing, at that point? Putting up a public announcement on my blog saying “I am a total bitch who drive my husband to suicide. Please don’t feel sorry for me or be nice to me.”

Sometimes- all the time, in fact- I know what I should have done, if I wanted to keep Tony’s friends around me.

Shut up, sit down.. and behave, I guess. Sit at home, mourn, still wear my ring.. and don’t dare move on. Fix all the things that Tony said were wrong with me, to honour his memory.

Fuck that.

Surviving… literally resisting the urge to slip an orange nylon rope around my neck and jump from my back verandah… it takes all my energy.

Pleasing people, that’s just too much to ask.

post signature

Leave a Comment

CommentLuv badge

{ 65 comments… read them below or add one }

Miss M April 16, 2011 at 7:52 pm

Lori, I read this post the other day, and its been playing on my mind, I didnt know what to say, and I still dont. But you are strong, and those fucks are weak, weak because they are putting their grief onto you.

You've taken the hardest blow that was dealt and its all on your shoulders, take the weight off from everyone else.

Reply

Brooke Farmer April 15, 2011 at 5:58 pm

Sympathy isn't something you take. It is given.

It is given to you because you are deserving. And whatever these self important pricks have to say is clearly not worth listening to.

I cannot imagine the pain you have been through. And I say that as someone who has been up close and personal with suicide before. But not my husband. Not in front of me.

I cannot imagine.

And no one knows what they would do in your situation. The mind is a funny thing. Every single time in my life that I have said, "what *I* would have done is…" I have eventually found myself in that situation and not reacted at all the way I thought I would.

I don't say that anymore.

Reply

Suzy April 14, 2011 at 11:24 pm

Oh fuck that.

I havent been around for months and have missed this whole episode unfolding, but seriously? People can go fuck themselves. I am so sorry that you do not have the support that you need. You have lived through hell, you are still in hell, and I wish there were people around you to hold you up, help you keep your head above water.

Sharing what happened took guts. Courage. And I understand why you felt like you had to do it. I am glad you did. I hope someone can read it and understand. If nothing else, understand how quick their life will be over. No second chances.

I lost two friends to suicide in 4 months. People's reactions to suicide can be downright bizarre.

You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.

Write on baby. Dont let the turkeys get you down.

Reply

Cate April 14, 2011 at 5:16 pm

What Mrs Woog said…

xx

Reply

Leanne April 14, 2011 at 10:42 am

I don't think you were riding the sympathy train. You were communicating. The quality of our life is only ever as good as the quality of our communication. You were communicating and that in turn helped you get through and that in turn actually helped hundreds of people understand what it is like to be in your situation. You helped people Lori. You helped people with their own grief and their own decision making processes when it comes to the choices they make. You helped people. That is not a sympathy train. That is communication.
Well done to you.
And thank you.
Leanne

Reply

Sarah April 14, 2011 at 9:28 am

I think you need to hop on that train and ride it – very very far away from those people with poisonous intentions. We'll all ride by your side Lori, all aboard…

Reply

Ðéví April 14, 2011 at 6:44 pm

I agree with the scapegoat theory. He's not here for them to vent their anger upon.

They forget that they are not the only people who are desperately angry to be abandoned by Tony, as well as grieving for him. It would be easier for them to be able to let you do some of their suffering. They should be making it easier for you. Or at least sharing.

You are doing so many positive things to get through this, I have been so impressed with your courage and determination to focus on what is right for your family, as I read your blog.

Reply

marketingtomilk April 14, 2011 at 4:27 am

I don't know if you know but i wrote a post about this inspired by your experiences.

http://marketingtomilk.wordpress.com/2011/02/18/if-i-was-in-your-position/

Noone can say what they would do in any "extreme" situation – it's utter bollocks. They are speaking from a position of comfortable ignorance.

M2Mx

Reply

Squiggly Rainbow April 13, 2011 at 9:28 pm

Lori, you amaze me. I cannot fathom how these last few months have been for you. Raising children is difficult enough, let alone what you have been through. Obviously these moron's have no idea. Your children are blessed to have you, you are all safe in your cottage – keep on going. Sending lots of love to you and your babies xoxox
Rach

Reply

Sarah April 13, 2011 at 8:58 pm

You are awesome & I love you & everyone else can just go to hell. But I have to say Michael, you are spot on the money, awesome comment :)

Reply

frog ponds rock… April 13, 2011 at 8:49 pm

Oh Sweety. Love to you. xoxox

Reply

Veronica April 13, 2011 at 8:31 pm

I read that comment linked and it made me realise just how many people don't 'get' blogging and why we blog. You can bet that if something happened, I would be writing about it and asking for support and love. The internet has my friends in it, why the hell wouldn't you ask for support?

Breathe honey. Breathe. Living is hard, especially when things hurt so much.

xx

Reply

River April 13, 2011 at 8:17 pm

You're not the bad guy, there's no way you're the bad guy.
Those friends of Tony's have no understanding of the way you feel. They never will, unless their spouses also inexplicably suicide.
You just keep on doing what you're doing, be the best you can be right now, things will eventually smooth out.
The others are right too. If Tony's mates were so close why did they not notice he was hurting and try to help him?

Reply

deardarl April 13, 2011 at 6:21 pm

Widowhood is punishment enough for anything.

This is in spite of the fact that neither you, nor I ever deserved this punishment.

Reply

Sam-O April 13, 2011 at 4:04 pm

Guilt is a terrible thing…

I have seen people react the way Tony's friends and family are. They need to blame the easiest target so they don't face what they have inside which is the guilt that they didn't do anything. The truth neither them nor your good self could have done anything. But you are by far the easiest target.

Tony just left you all and you are all coping, some better than others no doubt. Of course there's the shitty days but you are moving and working on getting through for yourself and your kids sakes. If they are not then they will be consumed by their guilt and I truly believe it will eat them up.

I know its much harder to do than to say, but, just keep moving and put them out of your mind. They can only hinder your little family's recovery(for want of a better word).

{{Hugs}} to you and the kids.

Sx

Reply

Wanderlust April 13, 2011 at 3:30 pm

Small-minded, small-hearted — the worst of small-town thinking. Let go and move on. You are so much bigger than them. The loss is theirs, on so many levels. Let them stew in their own poison. Your job is to heal. I'm just sorry you have had to deal with this on top of everything else. x

Reply

Queensland Girl April 13, 2011 at 2:47 pm

As has been said many times before…FUCK THEM!!! You know the truth, do not let these people poison your life. You are trying to move on, loving your kids, doing the best you can. This is not your fault, none of it. You did not cause this, at all. I, and I'm sure I am not the only one, am in awe of your strength and courage.

Reply

Lisa Tait April 13, 2011 at 2:43 pm

Not that I want to excuse, the fuckers, but they are grieving too. You are probably a reminder of what they have lost.
Yes it is all about them – fuckers.

Reply

Toushka Lee April 13, 2011 at 2:42 pm

fuck them Lori. they need someone to blame, you're convenient. They are wrong. so wrong and completely fucked.

Reply

Kimberley April 13, 2011 at 2:31 pm

Dear Lori

I haven't commented since I wrote an "I'm so sorry this has happened" comment immediately after reading of Tony's death. I check your blog every day and read each post (even though they usually make me feel quite anxious but this is more an indication of my own personality and the power of your writing) because that is the only way I can support you. Everything I want to say has been said much more eloquently by others (especially Michael) but I didn't want to just read this post and log off. I always read through the comments and begin to construct one but I never know what to say so I just linger for a bit and then log off and think about what you wrote for a long time afterwards.

Unfortunately some people in society seem to like to categorise people (especially women) into neat little labels that are ridiculously simplistic, inaccurate and downright offensive. And of course, many people love a scapegoat. It makes my blood boil!

If only those people could muster a tiny bit of the bravery and thoughtfulness that you show despite the fact that you are experiencing extreme trauma and grief. I realise Tony's suicide was a result of mental illness but in more general terms Tony did have options and the one he chose was breathtakingly cruel to you and the kids.

You deserve compassion and support and it really is shameful that you are not getting that from everyone. I am pleased that you realise that this is their problem and that their behaviour is unfair.

I think of you often Lori and wish you peace and love.

Kim

Reply

CourtneyB April 13, 2011 at 11:34 pm

Sending hugs. <3 Courtney

Reply

whiterabbit April 13, 2011 at 10:44 am

wow. sounds like your husband's mates are as useful to him in death as they were in life.

i hope you can cut those useless shits out of your life. they don't deserve to be near your children or you. they don't deserve to call themselves your husband's friends either.

i'm an atheist so i don't pray, but i think of you often and wish you the best from the bottom of my heart.

Reply

Draft Queen April 13, 2011 at 10:08 am

Sweetie, Fuck them. I'm emailing a more verbose comment to you separately, but I wanted to publicly say FUCK OFF to the shit heads who think they are so much better than you.

Reply

Pandora April 13, 2011 at 8:12 am

As someone with more than one severe mental illness, I think that – horrible as it is to read, and obviously how much more horrible it is for you to live through – your candid discussions around Tony's death and the psychosis that precipitated it will save lives. It's certainly made me think long and hard about how unbearably traumatic it would be for my loved ones if I killed myself.

You lose rationality when you're severely depressed, or in the midst of a psychosis. This can be the result, and it's tragic, and usually avoidable. I have made a promise to myself that if I find myself there again, I will remember your post(s). I think I'll succeed, because what you have written is not easily forgettable.

People need to talk honestly about mental illness, and I applaud you for writing what you have – especially when you've been in such unbelievable turmoil. It'll never bring Tony back – fuck knows I wish it could – but it may save others.

And even if it doesn't, this is your fucking blog to write on as you see fit. I find it very sad that Tony's friends seem to think you're speaking ill of him somehow. You're not! The poor man was ill – as you've said a number of times, he was not himself at all before his death (and, going back through your archives, this should be obvious to readers) -and you're describing what happened during that awful period. On your blog. You need somewhere to 'get it all out', and if that is here, that's how it should be.

You're entitled after all you've been through, and that others could even consider condemning you for it says a lot more about them than it ever will about you.

Sorry, Lori, brevity is not my strong point. Just – keep writing what you're writing, for as long as you want to write it. And you deserve better from Tony's friends.

Sending love and hugs to you and the two kids, for what it's worth.

Pan xxx

Reply

Mrs J April 13, 2011 at 7:48 am

"Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

Surround yourself with the people who matter; who appreciate you for who you are and don't judge you for someone else's behaviour.

Tony's so-called mates are selfish, senseless pricks if they blame you for Tony's death. They feel a sense of guilt for not spotting the signs sooner and trying to help him and rather than owning that they are using you as the scapegoat.

Reply

Andrea April 13, 2011 at 7:15 am

Most people hide from the pain of reality. Raw emotion is hard to handle. It's easier for them to create their own more comfortable version, and sometimes to digest stuff – they need a 'bad guy'.

I think maybe some of those that have shown their ugly/uncompassionate side maybe just can't handle the fact that you didn't hide, you didn't behave how they wanted you to – you tackled it head on and the only way you knew how at the time.

Meanwhile, while the odd few are being retarded, the rest of us are applauding you for being so brave and open and honest, and goodness knows how many lessons people are learning from you (although of course that is a by product, not the main reason people are here). And I'm pretty sure that all those that care for you in blog world are glad you could turn to them for support, and by the same token, equally happy to give it.

hug

Reply

{Crafty Girls} April 13, 2011 at 5:10 pm

Please excuse my poor excuse for comment writing, I just don't know how to express myself very well – so bare with me.
In my eyes, everything you write is beautiful and poetic (to me), even the 'bad stuff'. Anything you've written about Tony has not tarnished my thoughts or 'memories' of him, I still remember him the way you blogged about him >before< it all happened.

From what I've read, "those" people in Tony's life – his so called friends. If anyone was bad for Tony, it was them. Poisonous.
I just I hate to see these cunt*s taking up your precious head space. I know you're not looking for advice and I'm certainly not giving it – I'm merely 'placing' some quotes that have helped me in the past, stuck them up on my fridge and my computer. *smiles sheepishly*
Awesome quotes:

"I would rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not." – Author unknown
>**< Hell yeah!

"Hanging onto resentment is letting someone you despise live rent-free in your head."- Ann Landers

>**< Oh yeah, my ex-husband lived rent free in my head, for a long time! Like I said, I'm not good at expressing myself, and this quoteis a poor choice for your situation, but it can apply in so many ways. We can just change the wording for you?

"Being hurt by some unforgiveable, shitty, things some penisless, cunt-faced, people did to you and your family is letting someone you despise live rent-free in your head." – I'm certain you could word that better than I, but you get where I'm going with it.

"News Flash: I'm not perfect! :D Yay for me! I think it would suck royal arse being perfect!!!!" – by ME, Chryssie!

< **> Because I’m awesome and so are you, because we’re not perfect, and we’re cool with that!

"Anyone that would treat another human being like that, never deserved my friendship or especially my thoughts" – Author unknown, something along those lines anyway…

< **> Oh , so true! I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire, let alone think about what low-life shitty scumbag ‘human-beings’ they are (I use the term Human-beings loosely in regards to them).

Despite what 'they' say, I know Tony loved you, warts and all – And I believe he never intended it this way, but you know that already…

Thinking of you

Reply

Fox in the City April 13, 2011 at 5:41 am

Wow, Michael and Glowless, well said both of you. Lori ~hugs~ to you and your two babies. Jenn

Reply

Janet NZ April 13, 2011 at 4:36 am

The other people here have said it so well, particularly Michael… and The Glowess. It seems to me that Tony's 'friends' were as damn useless to him when he was alive, as they are to his family now. One day, I hope they have the Grace to feel ashamed of themselves. xxx

Reply

Watercolor April 13, 2011 at 4:17 am

Hugs. Those people don't deserve you. Sounds like they didn't deserve Tony. NO ONE knows what they would do in tragedy. NO ONE. You think you do. But when it happens to you, you find out you were soooo wrong. Their judgement of you is so awful it is breathtaking. I am so sorry. Know you are in the prayers of many who don't even know you yet want the best for you and your precious children. Hugs.

Reply

Annicles April 13, 2011 at 4:08 am

They were hardly good mates if Tony couldn't turn to even one of them when he was feeling so bad. I hope they feel guilty for not helping him when he needed them. You should not. You are the one who bore the brunt of his psychosis and was trying to work it out. Not them. Fuck them.

Reply

tigerlily20 April 13, 2011 at 2:51 am

Lori,

I have supported you from the beginning and I support you now, but as a fellow SOS (survivor of suicide), I have to say this:

I think you will find, as you progress through your grieving process, that there are going to be some things you will want to keep private. If you don't choose to, there will be people who judge you. And you have to learn to be ok with one or the other – putting it all out there and saying, "fuck you" to those who judge, OR understanding the reality of having to keep some things private in order to not be judged.

Now before everyone jumps on my ass, is this ideal? No. Is it reality? Yes. I'm not talking about anything to do with Tony. His death and his issues. I'm talking about your actions and feelings and what you choose to disclose, and to whom. You do have a choice – speak every bit of your truth and to hell with those who don't understand your decisions and abandon you…or know that you will receive judgment and be ok with it.

I have walked in your shoes. I AM walking in your shoes. If not exactly yours, a pair from the very same line.

This will come easier in time – unfortunately, the early days is when we do a bunch of crazy things that probably don't bear sharing with those who aren't going to understand, no matter what you do.

Best,
Betsy

Reply

taniaramsey April 13, 2011 at 2:05 am

Mental illness is no joke, nor can it be blamed on another person. You did not put the rope around your husband’s neck. He was a very sick man who must have felt like he could not turn to those so called “mates” and share his deepest darkest feelings. Let’s hope they feel guilty for not seeing that Tony needed help and just maybe they are taking that guilt out on you. Otherwise they are just assholes and like Glowless said “fuck ‘em!”

You are surviving even if it's only one moment at a time. At some point you will look at a photo of Tony and smile. It will surprise you. But only time eases grief. Lots and lots of time. So cliche but so true.

Hugs from America.

Reply

flask April 13, 2011 at 2:00 am

you know what? a lot of people came in here for the sensationalist moments just after. and mostly those people will fall away, and good riddance.

i came in because someone asked for prayers and to tell you the whole truth a lot of THOSE people will fall away as they go to pray for other things.

and people who cared for tony will fall into two categories: people who don't mind at all you telling your truth, and people who will want to cover up anything that isn't shiny and noble in memories of him.

the thing about telling YOUR truth, though, is that yours is the only one you can tell.

and tony forfeited his right to speak when he died.

hard things happen when people are grieving. people do what they can and sometimes that means going on a meaningless night of fun to make the horror stop for a few hours and sometimes that means blaming someone, anyone for the Horrible Thing.

i'm going to ask you not to take it personal when some people go through their grieving by blaming you; i've seen it happen too often to think that it's unique or even unusual.

just keep on keeping on the best you can. take pleasure where you find it, the precious little you can. you have a life and kids and you're no good to anyone if you have to worry about what other people think.

you go on living. you go on writing.

i'll keep reading.

and i'll continue to pray.

Reply

Miss Tiffany G April 13, 2011 at 1:59 am

I so badly want to hug you. And get drunk with you. And be there for you. You, more than anyone, deserve it. Do what helps YOU and don't worry about anyone else!

Reply

Ashley April 13, 2011 at 1:32 am

Lori,

I'm nobody- Just someone who followed along after one of my followers asked for prayers for what you were going through.

But I *am* someone who lives with a spouse who, in the past, has had violent, almost psychotic, reactions when their mental illness has been horribly out of control. I have been the one standing there, face stinging, unable to process that Oh my God, my "Man who would never hurt a fly" has hauled off and hit me. I too have been blamed for it all…

And I shared these posts with my other half, and we saw ourselves, and we got more help. Hopefully, our learning is one of the good things that can come out of your tragedy. But it's still your tragedy.

And as for Tony's "Mates"- Fuck 'em.

Reply

juststopspeaking April 13, 2011 at 1:28 am

Michael, Woogs and Glowless have got it going on….

Please stop thinking you have to justify your actions to ANYONE other than yourself.

FUCK THEM

Reply

Karen April 13, 2011 at 12:55 am

Oh, and they are displacing their frustration, blame and anger onto you, thereby using you as a scapegoat.

Scapegoats, incidentally, are some of the strongest people out there. They are used in that manner precisely because of their innate strength to withstand the brutality of people's projected feelings… :)

Reply

Karen April 13, 2011 at 12:49 am

People love to love an underdog.

You are not one.

Neither am I. And that, for some reason, riles people and brings out the worst in them.

Patience….they will realize the error of their ways even if it won't happen overnight. They may never admit that to you, but they will to themselves if they have a conscience.

xx

Reply

Cassondra April 13, 2011 at 12:45 am

I don't think you're riding the sympathy train (though you deserve all the sympathy we can offer), you're telling your truth. And I'm glad you have, and are, telling your truth. Not only will it help you to grieve to get it out, but it will help others who hear it. It helps us to think, to work on our lives, to talk to our family. Still praying for healing for you, and for enlightenment for those idiot guys.

Reply

Crystal Cheverie April 13, 2011 at 10:18 am

Well, not much I can add to what's already been said. I'm only sorry that a truly horrific situation was made even worse by the cruelty of those people. Good for you for not letting it stop you from blogging and just being your raw, honest, no-bullshit self.

*HUG*

Reply

searching April 12, 2011 at 11:59 pm

Girl….you are spot on with this blog entry. You certainly have it figured right.

Never doubt yourself. You are a smart women with your head on straight despite what has happened. Never let "them" hurt you!!

Hugs, Judi

Reply

Dazee Dreamer April 12, 2011 at 11:51 pm

I really truly want to take Tony's so-called-friends and beat the living shit out of them. STupid fuckers. Can't wait for the big ole karma bus to come around and pick them all up and show them whose boss.

You are doing what you need to do. You are doing it well. You are still only months away from the trauma. They make me sick to my stomach.

Just know that you are constantly in my thoughts and prayers.

Reply

kateypie35 April 12, 2011 at 11:43 pm

I never know what to say – I am useless. I wish I could give you a big squishy tight hug.

Reply

rageagainsttheblackdog April 12, 2011 at 11:27 pm

I third what Glowless said…

Reply

Maree April 12, 2011 at 11:11 pm

Lori I first started reading your blog after a friend of mine asked me for prayers for you, your kids and Tony. Sweetheart what you have been through no one should have to go through. I admire your up front style and if people cant deal with that it is their problem.

Girl you need to do what is best for Lori and your kids….nobody else. If people cant deal with what you write then as you would say "FU*K THEM.

As adults we all have the power to make choices. Tony made his. You choose to tell it how it is.

The so called mates weren't there for all your moments good and bad, your ups and downs so how dare they pass judgement!!!

There will always be good days and bad days but PLEASE keep blogging….your speaking out may just one day be the catalyst for someone else to seek help….

Reply

Ames April 13, 2011 at 8:56 am

How do these people sleep at night?

I'm with Mrs Woog, Glowless and Good Golly Miss Holly.

You deserve WAY better than them.

Reply

Kelloggsville April 12, 2011 at 9:52 pm

I think you are entitled to ride the sympathy train for the rest of your life if you choose to do so. Tony had the option to leave. He could have gone to stay with his mates. He could have done many things but he chose to do what he did. Anyone in marriage knows that there are things that happen and that are said that could push anyone to the edge but mostly and thankfully they pass by and the loving life continues. People on the outside of the marriage walls don't see the loving part, they aren't in that cuddle, they don't really know how that relationship was for you two. Nobody but you does but always remember you hadn't locked the doors, he could have walked away. Xxx

Reply

Mama Mogantosh April 12, 2011 at 9:49 pm

Lori, I'm with Mrs Woog above. You've kept on trucking so far. You're still here. Fuck them. You don't need them to approve of you. x

Reply

Glen April 12, 2011 at 9:46 pm

What Glowless said…

Reply

Michael April 12, 2011 at 9:26 pm

Jesus Christ.

If anyone on Earth deserves to drive the sympathy train, it is you.

As the great Howard Stern once said, everyone is hard to live with. As the great Chris Rock once said, even the most beautiful woman in the world has someone who is sick and tired of dealing with them.

It is impossible to imagine you were Tony's "only problem". Being a man of long standing, I know we tend to use complaining about the wife as a cop out- a laugh line, an easy symbol. It's not true. It's shorthand for "I'm miserable, and I'm too male to actually dig into it and find out why, so I'll just complain about my marriage."

Suicides leave us because they can't take it anymore. Because the quiet and the peace is preferable to the noise and chaos of continuing on.

Did you have issues? Of course you did. So do I, and so does every other married person reading this. You're not really married until you've contemplated homicide.

Tony couldn't take it. I don't know what was going on in his head. I won't blame him for it. He made a decision in a moment that had tragic, horrific consequences. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't even really his fault. His brain had a disease, and it killed him.

I don't understand how blaming you makes any sense or helps anyone on Earth at all.

Reply

Carol April 12, 2011 at 9:02 pm

Humans suck.
If you ARE riding the sympathy train, I'd say you paid quite a bit for your ticket. More than ANY of those a$$holes would care to pay.
I mean, really? So if you wallowed in your grief, stayed at home and mourned, then wouldn't THAT be a pity party? Getting on about your life, as YOU feel you need to? It doesn't mean you aren't still aching inside. Hell, don't any of them get it? Really?
Never be ashamed of telling your story. It's YOUR truth. Even the Ugly.
(((Hugs)))
Carol

Reply

cassey April 12, 2011 at 9:01 pm

Grrr those people are just…I have no words for how horrible they are.

Hugs

Reply

Rachel April 12, 2011 at 9:00 pm

I assume you're talking about the kind of "mates" who break into their mate's widows garage and steal from her? Those kind of mates? Because in my mind people like that are lower than the dogshit on your shoe and deserve to be wiped with extreme prejudice. And that is putting it kindly. Lori if sanctimonious horseshit was gold and the self-righteous criticism of arseholes was silver you would be able to buy yourself a castle in the south of France and live like a Queen for the rest of your life by now. Anyone whose contribution to your life is so relentlessly negative does not deserve one more second of your time, a single breath, a single firing of a single synapse. Delete them from Facebook, block them from your phone, walk away and don't leave a forwarding address. Except maybe your lawyer's.

Reply

E April 12, 2011 at 8:59 pm

Your not the bad guy. They obviously are not your friends and never were.

Reply

Hear Mum Roar April 12, 2011 at 8:57 pm

I'm just glad you're not believing their bullshit so much anymore ((HUG))

I watched those comments in astonishment. All I could think at the time was, as you've said today, 'how would Tony feel about all his so-called mates bullying his wife?'

Reply

Suz April 12, 2011 at 8:53 pm

I'm so sorry you have to deal with this on top of everything else. They ought to be ashamed of themselves.
And what Glowless said too, "Fuck 'em" xx

Reply

Brenda April 12, 2011 at 8:50 pm

Massive squishy hugs here, Lori.xxx

Reply

Melissa April 12, 2011 at 8:49 pm

when tragedy strikes – people want someone to blame. Intelligent people (or even stupid people getting some grief counselling) realize there IS no one to blame – that sometimes tragedy is a horrible accident, the result of mistakes and miscalculations. It royally sucks that you are on the receiving end of the blame.
When these people (read: horrible bastards) come to their senses it will be up to you to decide whether you can forgive them and let them back into your life. They'll realize their mistakes have cost them a relationship with the kids – and that's just tragedy on top of tragedy.
Hang in there – you don't deserve any of this, but for some unknown reason you're being asked to bear it. You can do it.

Reply

Karla April 12, 2011 at 8:47 pm

Gee Lori, how dare you not act like everyone else wants you to! Pfft.

There are no rules in grief. If they don't like it, they don't have to read it! And who are they to say where you can and can't get support and love?

Always thinking of you x

Reply

Glowless @ Where’s My Glow April 12, 2011 at 8:42 pm

Fuck 'em xxx

Reply

Madmother April 13, 2011 at 6:32 am

People love to judge, it makes their small little lives and small little minds seem better in comparison.
They like to grab onto some tiny morsel of information and whip it into a banquet of bullshit.

I could say ignore them, but it is hard to do. It compounds the devastation of what has happened and is one more betrayal to deal with.

I am so sorry these small people have hurt you with their small-mindedness. I am so glad you did not heed them and still let us do the little we can.

xx

Reply

Good Golly Miss Holly! April 12, 2011 at 9:17 pm

These people are fucked.

Deadset.

They want you, tell you to get yourself together and move on (for your children's sake, not yours of course) but when you do, you are the worst person in the world and disrespecting Tony's memory.

What. the. fuck.

You don't need to be surrounded by people like that. They sound toxic.

Reply

thatblogyoudo April 12, 2011 at 9:10 pm

I hope this gets through, blogger is blocking my comments, (maybe i have a bug, gawd no) anyways, I think you know already just how fucked up these people are. your away now, time to shake off those fools. big hugs. love Court x o

Reply

Mrs Woog April 12, 2011 at 8:59 pm

I mean no disrespect, but those people sound like assholes. Xx

Reply

Previous post:

Next post:

June 2012 – RRSAHM

June 2012

Purr

by Lori Dwyer on June 29, 2012 · 17 comments

Take me away from here for a night… I’ll tell you the basics of who I am, but other than that, I can play pretend…


(Pretend I’m OK, pretend I’m just fine. Pretend my life is secular and I need no one. Shut myself off from the screaming five year old in my mind who will, if I allow her to, burst into sobs and beg to be held…. I’m not her, we don’t even share the same name. I am separate from myself, separate from my responsibilities, separate from my life… tonight I am a painting of myself, I am a filigreed version of my nightmare… I can’t do this for long, it’s a heavy mask to wear and it feels as if it will send me insane…. but while I can hold reality at the length of a tight skirt and heels, I will).

Lay me down and make me purr. As a lover I am submissive in a way I never used to be– the effort is yours, the seduction on your part– that is why I am here. I am strength personified, sun rise to sunset, every day I live now in the After… instruct me, make me feel vulnerable and feminine, lush and objectified; and we’ll play.

Run your hands down the length of the skin I wear like a coat of steel, remind me it’s soft and it can feel sensation as light and pleasant. As a lover I am selfish… I will lay down, smile on my face, and languish in sweeping waves of pleasure for as long as you’ll allow me to. I feel no obligation toward the other psychical being I am clasped with– their pleasure is derived from mine or not at all, and I’ll admit that, gluttonous.

I will lay for hours in the warmth of touch and anonymity… I’ll be a pussy cat stretched out, limbs flayed and vulnerable, stomach warmed by bright morning sunshine and taking warmth greedily; no shadow of guilt, without the slightest inclintative thought of giving any touch, any kiss or caress of my lips, in return.

post signature

{ 17 comments }

A Thousand Words

by Lori Dwyer on June 28, 2012 · 20 comments

Please don’t underestimate the intrinsic, irreplaceable value of family photographs. And I tell you this from heart breaking experience.

One of the only photos I have of all four of us, my whole family together, is this one here– and I’ve Photoshopped it to within an inch of it’s pixelated life, because it wasn’t a great picture to begin with.

You know how it is, I’m sure– you’re always behind the lens of the camera; and if you’re not, your husband is. And you have all the time in the world– you don’t need to get a professional shoot done now, not just yet, not until your youngest grows out of that baby phase and looks a bit more like herself…

And then your husband dies, or God forbid you lose one of your children, or maybe they lose you… and you curse yourself for not investing the time and money in something so ridiculously simple that has so much lifelong potential.

Kristen Cox Photography

When Kirsten, one of my readers, offered to immortalize the new shape of my family– just the three of us– I couldn’t say no. I’ll confess my anxiety peaked at the thought of trying to control my two little darlings while they run absolutely feral (“Chop!! Do not strangle your sister!! Bump– put that studio umbrella down, now!!!”), I still couldn’t say no… because I know, now, exactly how much I may regret that choice later.

I needn’t have worried so much. My kids did run absolutely feral, as per their usual dispositions. And rather than curbing that, Kirstin worked with it. Knowing that we spend a lot of time in our garden, that’s where she led us; and then she let us do our thing. We checked on our chooks, played and chatted, patted our cats, had a tea party in our fairy garden.

The story of on our days, just an average day, what we do every day. A story of a mum an two kids and their lush green backyard, captured in frame after frame of unique photos that don’t feel posed or forced…. because they’re not. Kirsten specialises in telling stories and making whole families comfortable– as you can see, she manages to photograph the very essence of human relationships, without leaving the slightest ripple on their usual balance- you tend to forget she’s there as she snaps away, and- as you can see- you end up having fun.

I love these shots. They’re backed up on my PC, Cloud and external hard drive, and the CD is stored in the box–of–things–to–grab–in–case–of–fire; so we don’t need to worry about the Internet eating them. And I’ve added a liberal amount of op–shopped frames to the already overstocked walls of my TinyTrainHouse.

I know it’s strange, difficult to understand, but this feels like proof in full colour– proof that we are surviving, rebuilding, that you can’t spot that big hole my husband left… because we’re filling it with ourselves all the time.

In honor of family photos being one of those that are so important but not a priority when really, there’s grocery shopping and daycare and blogging to think about; Kirsten Cox Photography is giving away one family, kids or newborn photo shoot, plus ten 5 x7.5 prints from the session; to one lucky RSSAHM reader. Based in Byron, Kirstin visits Sydney every three months to do photo shoots. she focuses on telling a story and capturing natural moments; rather than posed, stiff, uncomfortable studio shots.

Due to obvious geographical constraints, the t’s and c’s here a little different than usual– look sharp.

To enter, upload your favorite picture– of you, your kids, your dog, a tree, whatever– to the RRSAHM FaceBook page, then leave a comment on this post saying you’ve done so, with a valid email address attached.


Entry is open to Australian residents who live within the Sydney, Northern Rivers or Brisbane regions. If you are outside these reasons but would like to win the package for a friend who resides within these areas, feel free to enter.


Kirsten will be given the winners details and contact will be between the winner and the photographer from that point. The shoot must be arranged within six months of winning the prize.


The photo on the FB page that amazes, amuses, bemuses or confuses me most wins. My decision is final and no discussion will be entered into.


Opens Friday 22nd June and closes midnight AEST Friday 6th July.

The winner will be announced via RRSAHM’s FaceBook page and Twitter feed, and probably in the newsletter as well. Winners will be emailed and have 48 hours to respond to that email with their postal address, or the prize will be redrawn.

post signature

{ 20 comments }

Shrunk

by Lori Dwyer on June 27, 2012 · 6 comments

Charlie the wonder shrink seems to come through with the goods every time, and this time is no exception.

After missing three scheduled appointments due to sick children with screaming temperatures and aching ears, I fall into the big white chair in Charlie’s office with a valid sense of relief. I talk for the next twenty minutes, unravelling for him what my life has become over the last six months or so.

I cry occasionally, silently, and I wipe the tears away quickly while I’m looking over into a corner of the small office, unable to look at people directly when I cry for the fear that I will see pity on their eyes; and that will break whatever strength I have remaining.

I tell the truth, that I sometimes sleep with random people purely for the thrill of it; and I can’t look him in the eyes then either.

I confess that I am afraid of myself, afraid of what I will become… whatever I seem to be manifesting into.

And I walk away feeling somewhat normal in spite of my self; somewhat reassured that I have not yet reached the limits of human endurance, of our natural capability to cope… people’s minds survive much worse than this.

It’s still the smoke alarm, explains Charlie, the same one the PSTD made faulty. It’s been shrieking at everything for a long time now. Perhaps it is something with limits, and they have been reached– the batteries drained. Desensitized, so to speak.

And, in turn, from one extremity to the other; the malfunctioning smoke alarm that is my brain no longer goes off at the mere suggestion of smoke.

It takes a whole fucking bonfire.

Small amounts of stimulation– the kind ‘regular’ people live on, thrive on, day to day; they are no longer enough to penetrate my psyche. My emotional self is a body part with the blood flow restricted– poke me with a pin, I’ll feel nothing at all except perhaps the slightest pressure, the slightest knowledge of something on my skin.

Hack at me with a machete… I’m guaranteed to feel that.

That’s why it takes so much to feel alive… why I’m walking around seeking something, something real, even in my sleep.

There’s more, of course– if only it were that simple– but I’m exhausted just writing that out, never mind thinking too hard about it.

I need a vacation from my head, just for a moment… sometime to release the pressure before I have to jump back into my own mind again.

***

There is nothing like being very, very sick and in charge of two small children to make you feel more terrifyingly vulnerable and perfectly mortal than you ever imagined possible.

Charlie the shrink tells me that, in it’s essence, the safety net that protects most people from the world has, for me, been stretched so far and hangs so loosely around reality that it’s not surprising I am hyper aware of potential consequences, potentials risks and possible flow on effects.


People can’t die like that, in front of you, right there.
Wrong.


That would never happen to me.
Yes, it would.

With those truths in place in my psyche; leave me fevered and sick, unable to move from my bed with my tiny daughter burning up beside me, and when my subconscious whispers…


“She could die..”

There is no resounding voice to say “Don’t be silly.”

It’s the inherent fragility of myself, worn down and exhausted and sicker, now, three times in the last year, than I have been in my life; that beats at the back of mine and taunts me in fevered dreams. It’s the aloneness of it, the fact that the only person I can call right now for real, psychical help is my mother, and she should be with my gran, and can’t afford to catch a virus for that very reason…

What would happen to us, without her? I have morbid visions of waking near dusk from a fever–induced coma and finding my daughter still and dehydrated beside me.

It’s not as dramatic as that, of course. But we sleep for nearly forty eight hours straight, waking only once so my mum can drive us to the local doctors, falling asleep in the waiting room with my daughter on my lap.

I hate this. I hate that the responsibility always falls on my mum, not that she ever complains, but I am continually overflowing with gratitude for her– she does so much, picks up so much of the slack that I unintentionally leave laying around, for others to trip and fall on.

I hate this constant, grinding illness my body seems to be working itself through– a grief sickness, a mourning illness, the toll that trauma has taken…

The loneliness is sharper, when I’m sick– all I want is to be wrapped up, to not be the one in charge. I spent a night at a man’s place not long ago, and the essence of it’s comfort was this– if someone came into that building, in the ink of night, with a darkness or threat in their intent; I wouldn’t be the one who would have to get up swinging, grit my teeth against the shaking fear and face that threat.

Laying there, in that dark… someone else would have done it for me.

It’s not a lot, it’s nothing at all. But the weight of responsibility is so much heavier when I can’t stand up without feeling faint, when moving my muscles hurts enough to make me cry.

* Kids and I are on the up and up… slowly. My Gran is still well and truly hanging in there– reports tell me my uncle snuck her in Macca’s for lunch on Friday, which was exceptionally well received.

post signature

{ 6 comments }

Re-writes. – RRSAHM

Re-writes.

by Lori Dwyer on January 15, 2014 · 6 comments

I’m so afraid of people dying.

Every one is, I guess.

Every parent’s worst nightmare is losing their kids.

But now I entertain the thought, where for so long I haven’t. And it cripples me.

It’s not just the thought of losing my kids. It’s the cold, pristine terror that comes with the thought of losing my Amazing Man. It’s so difficult to trust what we have between us, and not because of him.

Because I don’t trust the Universe. I want to believe that he could never possibly die. I want to believe that there’s some guarantee that I will never suddenly be without the people I love.

I can’t believe that. Simply because I know it’s not the truth. The random element of everything, the fact that really bad things happen to really good people all the time… that scares the sh*t out of me.

I keep writing and rewriting this post. Re-reading my words and deleting whole chunks of them because they are not quite right. I attempt to justify this to myself- why I’m so afraid of death now. Why it’s become so unpleasant and debilitating the last few months, when it’s always been there.

It takes me quite a few rewrites to get it, to find what I’m looking for by writing all of this out.

I’m afraid of losing people- isn’t every one?

But I’m more afraid of not being able to handle losing someone. Of cracking at the pressure points and becoming little more than a gloop of a person, with all the things that hold me in shape- all the things that make me who I am- falling away and skewing.

Which is ridiculous, really. Because if I know nothing else, I should know that I’m more than the sum of what holds me together. And if I have to rebuild, I will. I can.

Besides… what’s the point of having awesome people around if you can’t love them completely?

What’s the point of loving people at all, if you allow fear to colour everything you feel for them?

 

Leave a Comment

CommentLuv badge

{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }

Charmaine Campbell February 3, 2014 at 11:15 am

This is the thing that scares me most about being a mother, I’m terrified of losing my kids. My husband has cancer and that is hard but it’s not crippling like I imagine it would be if it was a child of mine. And it’s a totally selfish feeling on my behalf, it’s me I’m worried about really, and my ability to go on without them. I hate being that vulnerable! I try not to think about it, push the thoughts away when they come.

Reply

Miss Pink January 16, 2014 at 3:57 pm

I am going through some similar feelings. It’s hard. I’m so proud of you for still trying x

Reply

Marianne January 16, 2014 at 1:44 pm

It’s the PSTD…the seeming inability to unclench.
But recently, I have had a few very specific, very unusual things happen (they were good…very good things) that have made me realize that my anxiety and my fear have had ZERO effect on the outcome of things.
All they accomplished was wrinkles and a sore jaw from clenching my teeth.
You just need a few more good things to prove you wrong about anticipating something bad.
Marianne recently posted…Stone soupMy Profile

Reply

Tori January 16, 2014 at 9:04 am

I used to have this fear too. My parents died suddenly when i was young. I comfort myself with the logic that the universe is done with me. My bad shit has happened and now I deserve the charmed life. 20 years on – so far so good.

Reply

Whoa, Molly! January 15, 2014 at 1:05 pm

I get this fear so much – and not even because I have any experience with deep loss, but maybe because I haven’t? I don’t know. I think the concern comes if you stop yourself from loving because you are afraid of losing people.

Fuck fear, man. Me, you, so many people I know, we are all just consumed by it. I’ve heard that people don’t live their lives afraid of everything. Who are these magical creatures? How do they reach that state of grace? Jerks. Lucky jerks.

Wish I had any answers, but like always – there’s just more questions.

(And don’t get me started on the ‘it happens for a reason’ crowd. That’s such shit. Things happen for entirely no reason and it’s awful. I guess what would be more awful was if they DID happen for a reason… what kind of fucked up reasons would make people suffer so much?)
Whoa, Molly! recently posted…The Draw of the HometownMy Profile

Reply

Vanessa January 15, 2014 at 4:21 pm

Ah, yes, you’ve touched on something there that drives me crazy. “It happens for a reason.” I saw a friend post on facebook after some natural disaster that “God willed it to happen so we would all learn to work together” – and I thought, the fact that I’m not religious aside, WHY would you want to believe in a being that murders others for a pre-school lesson like “sharing”. I just can’t deal with that view on things.
Vanessa recently posted…Incompetence and Survival PreparationMy Profile

Reply

Previous post:

Next post:

So, you wanna know what's painful…? – RRSAHM

So, you wanna know what’s painful…?

by Lori Dwyer on August 9, 2010 · 41 comments

Ouchies,

The disclosure: You probably don’t want to read this post. (I say that a lot, yes?) It’s one of those posts where I over-share. Again. Surely we’re all used to that to that by now….? Whatever. Those with sensitive or *snort* anal dispositions, read at your own risk. So on and so forth. Yadda yadda yadda.

In fact, to avoid any further possible embarrassment to anyone concerned (myself especially). I am going to write the rest of this post in a teeny, tiny little voice. And maybe no one will hear it at all….


You may have noticed me bitching and whinging on Twitter last week about being in horrible, agonizing, debilitating constant pain. A bit much, you say? Surely Lori is exaggerating (again)? Yes? Well, no…


You know what’s really, really painful?


Well… *ahem*… hemorrhoids.


You know what’s even more painful…?


Infected hemorrhoids.



And you know what’s even worse than that?


Infected hemorrhoids with a thrombosis (Google it– I dare you.)


Could it get any worse…?


Well, yes, actually, it could. When, by some bizarre law of that-is-really-fucked-upedness, you could also get a boil on your butt cheek.

Not even joking.


And, why, let’s throw Aunt Flo into the ring (so to speak). Bitch. For the first time in almost two years.


And what could possible get  more embarrassing that all of that put together? More embarrassing than multiple doctors visits that required rubber gloves….?


You guessed it. An energetic, loud and undeniably cute two year old, bouncing around the packed doctor’s waiting room, singing at the top of his little lungs,

“Mummy’s got a sore bum! Mummy’s got a sore bum!”

Oh yeah. Last week kinda sucked. Things still kinda suck. And it still hurts- a lot- but on the bright side, at least now I can actually sit down and blog without bursting into tears. Just as long as I have my comfy rubber donut ring. (Stop laughing at me, OK? I can hear you all from here.)

post signature

Leave a Comment

CommentLuv badge

{ 41 comments… read them below or add one }

Bronnie and family October 5, 2010 at 1:19 pm

Haha … When I had the colonoscopy I treated myself to as a 40th birthday present (I know!) my son kept telling everyone gleefully: 'Mum's getting a camera stuck up her butt!' There are no secrets once you become a mother.

Reply

georgiabe August 15, 2010 at 4:42 am

ouch! I'm giggling on my end…but only because I get to see the doc on monday for my own sore bottom! It looks like surgery for me–OUCH!

Reply

Alex August 13, 2010 at 9:09 pm

Ba ha ha ha ha ha ha ha – sorry, but (butt!) ha ha ha ha.

:)

Reply

So Now What? August 13, 2010 at 7:11 pm

Oh dear. Bright side, those rubber rings come in handy when you are down a pool toy. Seriously though, it sucks that it all happens at once. And down there, we just have to grin and bear it.

Take care x

Reply

Michelle August 13, 2010 at 8:29 am

Thank goodness for the rubber ring! ((((Lori))) Happy FloYoBlog Friday! Mich x

Reply

Langdowns August 13, 2010 at 7:47 am

Ouch! That really sucks. I seriously feel for you. Thanks so much for sharing. No really. When it's my turn I'll know I'm not alone … L

Reply

Cynthia August 12, 2010 at 1:21 am

OMG I ALWAYS ALWAYS said – I can handle 17 hours of labour without drugs, having an emergency c-section after all that but haemorroids???? Its the WORST PAIN..sympathies….have you tried ultra sound? I swear by it..it just helped reduce the inflammation. Hang in there..a few more days and it'd be over!!

Reply

Maxabella August 10, 2010 at 12:01 pm

I confess that I laughed a little tiny bit. Just a snort here and there. I mean, could it get any worse than that? You have to laugh or you'd cry. But then, I'm having a little cry too because sob I can't imagine the pain you're in sob and that shit just ain't right. The whole arse thing at once is an arsehole for sure.

Reply

Jodie at Mummy Mayhem August 10, 2010 at 11:46 am

Sorry hon. I can't help but laugh, but I'm sure it was SO not funny an experience for you!

Hope you're on the mend. xx

Reply

In Real Life August 10, 2010 at 11:19 am

Yikes! That sounds horrible! Hope you're feeling better soon!

Reply

Draft Queen August 10, 2010 at 8:50 am

Oh man. Ouch.

Reply

Jasmine August 10, 2010 at 11:40 am

Ahahahha god. I just blogged about my postnatal experience of hemorrhoids. The whole time I was wondering if it was perhaps too much info.

My doctor not only suggested I was still "very loose down there" but also went on to poke at my hemorrhoids and tell me they were 'sentinels' that might need to be removed by surgery.

The horror. The horror!

Reply

Katie August 9, 2010 at 11:52 pm

Is it weird to say to someone you've only ever met on the internet that you are sending a great big hug to their hiney? If not, I am sending a great big hug to your hiney.
If so, to darn bad. Hiney hugs all around.

Reply

Lauren August 9, 2010 at 10:58 pm

My sister and I always analyse our "grape-shot" after birthing a baby… How come no one warned us of haemorrhoids BEFORE we got pregnant?

Reply

MultipleMum August 9, 2010 at 10:37 pm

I told you you are not alone! It will heal and the pain will go. As for the Nurofen and BF thing – I have only just weaned the twins after 19 months. I was taking Nurofen when I was BFing. Mothersafe said I could!

Reply

MultipleMum August 9, 2010 at 9:56 pm

God I hear you! Ouch central!!

Try this for size: http://cootaitlees.blogspot.com/2010/04/bum-queen.html

Reply

Kell August 9, 2010 at 7:18 pm

Oh no Lori! Hope it all gets better soon. Love the song. They are so funny when they make up songs but maybe not so funny in that situation. I did have a giggle at that part.

Reply

jo August 9, 2010 at 7:17 pm

effing hell that is bad! big love form here!!

Reply

Sarah August 9, 2010 at 7:13 pm

Ow ow ow ow!!! I hope you're feeling a bit better now *hug*

Reply

jfb57 August 9, 2010 at 6:21 pm

Brill post! You have ALL my sympathies because they are so painful & when you're asked what the problem is you are even more embarrased & that makes them even more painful! Hugs!

Reply

Mama Cass August 9, 2010 at 2:46 pm

Certainly brings new meaning to the saying 'pain in the arse'! I hear you – I had them recently… but minus the infection or the thrombosis. Nasty!

Reply

x0xJ August 9, 2010 at 1:55 pm

OUCH!
I did not laugh at all. I just sat here thinking SHIT i hope they can fix yer bum!

Reply

The Empress August 9, 2010 at 1:51 pm

Oh, that is so awful it sounds like a curse from some travelling gypsy you pissed off.

That is all kinds of horrible, on every level that exists.

I really feel for you with this one…

Reply

Jacki August 9, 2010 at 1:00 pm

Oh my goodness, you poor thing. Your funny post is testament to just how strong and hilarious you are – to be able to see the lighter side of things when you're in pain says a lot about you.

Reply

Catherine F. August 9, 2010 at 12:33 pm

ooooh the sight of rubber gloves makes me shudder. Surprisingly, the thought of rubber gloves is worse! Anything down that part of your body just sucks! I agree with Lucy though – get the good stuff down your neck to stop the thrush and another opportunity for a gloved hand!

Reply

Amy xxoo August 9, 2010 at 12:20 pm

Good gravy woman – you sure know how to have fun, dont you? Or not. My sympathies to you and your bottom.

Reply

Brenda August 9, 2010 at 12:00 pm

I feel for you, babe. I truly truly do. Hehe.

Reply

lori August 9, 2010 at 11:55 am

Oh my, I've missed alot the past couple weeks! A sore bum is nothing to laugh at. And Aunt Flo too?? Wow, you poor thing! Hope you feel better soon!

Reply

Wanderlust August 9, 2010 at 11:41 am

Owie! Not laughing (much). Hope you mend soon. xx

Reply

Lucy August 9, 2010 at 9:58 am

Ypu poor love. All those hormones leaving and arriving. You need more sleep and a lot of TLC.

Hope those kick arse AB's don't give you thrush babe….get thee some Inner Health happening…

Reply

lacochran’s evil twin August 9, 2010 at 9:41 am

I've heard that those donut thingies actually do more damage then good by creating more pressure on the critical area. I hope that's not true but that's what I've heard.

Reply

Being Me August 9, 2010 at 9:27 am

Ow-ow-ow! All sounds ghastly, you poor love.

Reply

Thea August 9, 2010 at 9:14 am

OUCH!!!

Reply

alliecat August 9, 2010 at 8:58 am

OMG trust me, I am NOT laughing. You poor thing, and for Aunt Flo to make her grand reappearance now, well surely God is a man afterall. So not funny, I hope you get it all sorted out. And soon.

Reply

Adalita August 9, 2010 at 7:31 am

I had boils as a teenager. So I sympathise with you. Hugs. I hope your "sore bum" feels better.

Reply

Mrs Woog August 9, 2010 at 12:10 pm

So, can I ask how your sex-life was last week?

Reply

CoffeeJitters (Judy Haley) August 9, 2010 at 11:48 am

I know you always sign off the end of the post with the pink jelly bean, but… ;)

having been both pregnant and through chemo, trust me, I can relate to your pain right now

Reply

Toni August 9, 2010 at 9:45 am

NOT laughing. Not even a titter. OW!

Reply

Eva Gallant August 9, 2010 at 9:04 am

Talk about a pain in the ass!

Reply

Madmother August 9, 2010 at 8:34 am

Umm, I don't own a donut thingy but saw multitudes in the hospital. Hell – gotta be an up-side to the ole C/S.

Haemorrhoids are fun, ain't they.

Punishment for all the kinky sex, lol. PMSL.

Reply

JourneyBeyondSurvival August 9, 2010 at 7:11 am

You do know MrsFatass right? She had the same thing! Her post is right there (linked on her name) It may make you feel better. Or it may just give you someone to commiserate with. :)

Reply

Previous post:

Next post:

August 2011 – RRSAHM

August 2011

Falling Into Place

by Lori Dwyer on August 31, 2011 · 65 comments

Sometimes things just fall into place, without you meaning them too.

That’s happened to me, just lately.

I’ve been stressed and sad and stuck between a few rocks and hard places.

Loving the serenity of Paradise. But being overwhelmed by the solitude on bad days.

Not wanting to move my children back to hustle bustle of the ‘burbs, but desperately needing to be closer to my family and friends.

All set up with a new house in Paradise… but the thought of moving there just making me cry.

And having money. Why does that always cause so much stress?

Wanting to buy a house, a place for my children and myself to call our own, a roof guaranteed over our heads. But not having quite enough money to do that. And knowing that, the longer I rent, the less money I have, and the further away that dream of owning our own home- being safe and stable and secure again; the further that dream floats away.

And then, without warning, things fell into place.

My mum, with all that scary latent psychic ability she seems to have, presented me with a page torn from her local paper.

A house for sale. Jaw droppingly, within my price range.

Three bedrooms, two lounge rooms. a dishwasher, a Hills Hoist clothesline, wooden floors (OK, lino that looks like wooden floors, but whatever) grassy, sunny backyard; fenced and ready for our dog.

In a tiny semi-rural location, with a train line that runs only steam trains once a month. 45 minutes from the ‘burbs, but with a population of less than 500 people.

Sadly, far away from the beach.

But closer to the people we love, the people who love us.

A little patch of land, all our own. Somewhere where I can make new holes, to hang pictures- the old ones that I took down months ago, and those I’ve taken since.

It took me less than twenty four hours to decide to purchase this little TrainStation House. And then I came home and wrote this post. And the whole time, I can hear my husband’s voice ringing in my head. He’s telling me he’s proud of me.

I’ll keep you all posted, as usual.

We move in less than two weeks.

And for the first time in months, I’m smiling.

post signature

{ 65 comments }

The View On Religion, From The After- Part Two

by Lori Dwyer on August 30, 2011 · 33 comments

This is Part Two. In case you missed it, Part One is here.

I get the feeling this one might be a disappointment and an anti-climax for some people. I apoligise. But this is truth, and truth is fluid. I’ll keep you updated.

***

To be honest, I’m really not sure about God anymore. And I’m unsure about being unsure.

If that makes no sense, go back and read this post. I firmly believed in a Something, but not in any organised religion.

I’m not even sure if I believe in a Something anymore.

While Tony was in the ICU, I prayed. I had hundreds, thousands of people praying for me and for Tony, through my blog and Twitter. I visited the hospital chapel every day, gave myself to God and Jesus, sobbed and begged and thought I felt some divine strength within me.

As I said, I’m far too angry to give any higher power credit for that strength. That was me. I was alone. If God exists, I shouldn’t have had to look so hard for him. If I was prepared to give up, give in to him…. why couldn’t he do the same for me?

It’s difficult, when you have little faith to begin with, to maintain it, when such desperate prayers go unanswered.

I remember, the day after Tony died, there was a hashtag trending on Twitter- #Godmakesnomistakes- in hindsight, it was probably something Gaga. But I can’t describe how angry I felt, how cheated I felt, glancing at thousands of Tweets, proclaiming that sentiment. God had just made a fucking huge mistake. And I was the one paying for it.

These days, God and I… we’re not on very good terms. If he exists at all-which is, in my mind, very, very much in doubt- he is laughing at me. Fucking with me.

I asked for strength, if that was all he could give me. And I got it. But that still feels like a cheat, when he could have given me so much more.

I always believed God was inherently kind.

Now, I’m not nearly so sure.

post signature

{ 33 comments }

The View On Religion, From The After- Part One.

by Lori Dwyer on August 28, 2011 · 19 comments

I’ve had quite a few people ask me how I feel about religion, now, in the After. I wrote about it in the Before.

I’ll publish the where-I’m-at-with-God bit in the next post. I just thought we needed some background first.

In the Before, I believed in… Something.

In the immediate After… I was willing to believe in anything.

one of the first things I did, the morning After, while Tony was unconscious in the ICU, was to visit our local catholic church, to arrange for a priest to come and perform Last Rites. Why…? Well, Tony was Catholic. Not practicing Catholic, but Catholic enough that our son was baptised. And I remembered, when Tony’s nan was in her last hours, he held her hand and recited the Lord’s Prayer, over and over, to bring her comfort.

I think I wanted to bring the same comfort to him.

The priest attended the hospital, only after checking that it was ‘OK’- I was not Catholic, and while our son was baptised at this church, we weren’t technically part of the parish.

That stung, and still does.. that we had to meet some official requirement,s for prayer to be given.

Despite me asking him to, the priest didn’t wait for me to perform Last Rites. Tony’s mum, and a friend of ours, where there, both baptised Catholics…. I guess that was enough.

That stings too.

I visited the hospital chapel every day while Tony was in the ICU. I have myself to God, to Jesus, to whoever. I cried and sobbed and bargained and prayed and pleaded for my husband’s life.

And, failing that… I prayed for strength, the strength to do this, the strength to walk away, if that was what I had to do.

I guess my prayers were answered, to a point. I had the strength to walk away. But I’m too angry with a higher power to give them credit for that. That was all me.

In contrast to the Catholic priest, the pastor from the church where my children and I attended play group could not have been more comforting. He spoke to me on the phone every day while Tony was in hospital. The last night of Tony’s life, he came and sat with me. Prayed with me, prayed with Tony. He was compassion and love personified when I needed it most and the feeling of that comfort, that soft but strength that emanated from him… I don’t think that will ever leave me.

In the days that followed my husband’s death, the faith I had felt in the hospital flickered and dehydrated and died. The idea of attending church lingered for a while, right until we moved to Paradise, but more for the purpose of teaching my children about the concept of Heaven, of giving them a framework to understand where there father is now.

That idea, along with any lingering scraps of faith, has been washed away by now.

And that’s that. More in the next post….

***
Every day, while my husband was in hospital, I visit the chapel.
The last time is just half an hour before my final meeting with the ICU doctors, the meeting where I will find out my husband’s fate… I already know what it will be.
He will become an organ donor.
Security walks me to the chapel, then stops at the door. I can voices from inside, ten or more, singing or softly chanting in unison.
“Better wait till they’re done” says the guard, and leaves me alone in the hall.
I wait, as long as I can. Maybe two minutes, maybe three. Time is ticking away, and I have to see the doctors soon, and if praying is doing anything then I need to do it now.
Hesitantly, I knock. An older lady, calm in her eyes, she opens the door.
I can barely speak through my tears. I explain, my husband, he is in the ICU, I have my final meeting with doctors soon… I need to pray.
Without a word I am swept into a room of people, most of them elderly, all of them holding rosary beads. They sit me on a lounge, pass me tissues, one woman puts her arms around me while I sob, uncontrolled and uncaring, into her chest.
And they pray. Together, in unison, in English then in Latin. I have no idea what they are saying,but the rising swell of words and tone and faith…. it comforts me. I close my eyes, allow salty hot tears to run from my swollen eyes, feel the exhaustion of the last few days seep in to me, run through me, just for a moment, before I get up and have to face it all again.
I’ve never been in a place of such devout faith, such selfless prayer and love as I was, that day. The power of humanity, or the power of a Higher being… whichever it was, it was divine.

post signature

{ 19 comments }

June 2013 – RRSAHM

June 2013

The Barry Manilow Effect.

by Lori Dwyer on June 28, 2013 · 8 comments

No one ever pays much attention to anyone else. Most people are entirely self–absorbed.

This can be a good thing.

When I was about twenty years old, I read a tiny article in a Readers Digest magazine that changed the way I looked at myself. It made me reassess all those stupid, inconsequential social mistakes that I’d made in the past; the social embarrassments I was sure other people remembered, that still kicked dents in my self-esteem.

It made me realise the only person who noticed them at all was me.

“Lecturer Dr Ken Savitsky asked one group (of college students) to wear t-shirts with an embarrassingly large photo of Barry Manilow to class. Students predicted that around half their classmates would notice, in reality, less than a quarter paid any attention.”

No one cares that you totally dig Barry Manilow. Or that you fell up the stairs in ninth grade. Or said something rampantly inappropriate to someone you’d just met. No one cares that you cried in the middle of Woolies, or forgot to dress your kid in mufti clothes.

In reality, I don’t spend a whole lot of time thinking about what other people do. So why would they be thinking about me?

The only person who pays that much attention to you… is you.

***

The article struck me so profoundly  I cut and pasted it into one of my notebooks. The other clipping on the page is, if I remember correctly, from a That’s Life magazine. Clippings and notebook circa 2002.

Manilow

Click to embiggen.

{ 8 comments }

Shopping Centers Make Me Anxious.

by Lori Dwyer on June 27, 2013 · 8 comments

Part two of the sponsored post where I give away lotsa gift vouchers.

***

Shopping centers make me anxious.

I’m not sure why. I’m fairly certain they’ve not always had that effect on me. Grocery shopping is tolerable (just). Braving a shopping trip to Big W… let’s just say it’s challenging.

But there’s still half a gift voucher to be spent. And these are the sacrifices that must be made.

My local Big W is currently absolutely lined with toys (almost kind of literally). Before you even get inside there’s veritable mountains of toy cars and boats, squishy animal pillows and doll-houses.

All I can think is… thank goodness I didn’t bring my kids with me today. And that I very much doubt anything is going to be out of stock.

I wander the toy aisles like the mature adult I am, oohing and ahhhing to myself and taking photos like a weirdo. There’s a whole wall full of Nerf guns and bullets and whatnot. There are many, many of the highly covetable LaLa Loopsy dolls that I can’t have because my daughter thinks they are some kind of evil monster.

Speaking of evil and monsters… This baby doll almost ate me.

 

scary

 

And, still on evil monsters, I found Peppa Pig. Damn you, Peppa. If it’s not enough that I have to watch you encouraging my children to splash in puddles six gazillion times a day…. now you’re in Big W as well.

 

peppa

 

For the sake of my own curiosity, I suss out the Layby counter which so many of you are so fond of. I even went so far as to hide behind the clothing racks and take a picture of the sign. Like a weirdo.

 

layby

 

Then I decided I’d really better just pay for my purchases and leave, before store staff politely requested I do so.

It’s comforting to arrive home from that experience find a great big cardboard delivery box waiting for me- all the toys, with none of the anxiety.

Online shopping is awesome.

 

bigw

***

Thanks to Big W’s Giant Toy Spectacular which is on right now until July 10th; I’ve got five $100 gift vouchers to give away. I’m republishing the entry form due to popularity- entries close tomorrow night (that’s midnight, Friday 28th June). For more T’s and C’s see this post.

 

viewer

 

To enter, just tell me- are you a layby kinda person? How do you manage Christmas with kids? Do you hit the toy sales, buy little bits all year round, or hit the shops two weeks before the big day?

 

No form there? Click here.

{ 8 comments }

The Thing With Cats… Again.

by Lori Dwyer on June 26, 2013 · 13 comments

I am sick of death, fed up with up with things dying.

It feels like the rain that just won’t stop falling in TinyTrainTown right now; as though it leaves a sad, restrictively dull lens-flare over the whole world.

Enough is enough. It’s time for it to stop.

***

The night of the day I write this post, there’s a knock at the door. My tiny house is full– the kidlets are still up, my brother and my friend Kristabelle are here.

My brother opens the door and it’s my neighbour. He asks me for me, and in a melt of time Kristabelle has distracted my kids, taken them into the back lounge-room so they don’t have to hear this, whatever it is, in real-time. My neighbour is saying something about about a black, fluffy cat; and I’m out in the darkness, my brother following. There are two people standing by the road, the headlights of their cars and the glow of the street lamp illuminating my fluffy black cat, stretched out the gravel. My neighbours jacket is covering him.

“Oh mate”, I say, leaning down beside my DimSum, who’s been my friend for almost thirteen years now. I stroke his silky black face and he’s still warm. I gently push his eyes closed. Ask my brother to get towels from inside the house. Ask him if he’ll bury my cat.

The woman who stopped, who knocked on my neighbours door, wasn’t the person who hit DimSum on that long, lonely black stretch of road I’ve now lost three cats and a dog to. It was the person in front of her who hit him, and they just kept going. The woman behind him considered how very difficult it would be for us, coming out in the morning to the cat splattered all over the road.

I didn’t thank her enough for that, I don’t think. It was only the next morning that it hit me how absolutely horrible that would have been.

My brother returns and wraps my big lump of a cat up in a few old bathroom towels. He takes him to the backyard, to dig him a hole. That’s when I make a snap decision that I’m still not entirely sure about.

This time, perhaps, it was only fair to let my kids say goodbye to their pet.

I find them inside, playing with Kristabelle, blissfully oblivious to any of the drama that’s unfolded.

“Guys”, I say, “I’m afraid I have some very bad, very sad news…” They both freeze, their game forgotten, and stare at me. Two identical sets of blue eyes, filled with the kind of trepidation that only children who have heard that phrase many times before could project.

“It’s Mr DimSum…” I don’t hesitate, not much– this is like ripping off a band-aid, best to do it quickly and stoically. “He got hit by a car. I’m so sorry, babies… He died.”

The Bump drops her cherubic bottom lip and it quivers. “But… Mr DimSum is my friend!”

And all I can do is hug her. It feels as though I say that so often, in regards to my kids… I guess I do.

But the Chop, his reaction is different and again it sends icy, warning fingers into my belly. “Oh.” He says, and turns away from me. “It’s okay. I’m not sad.”

“It’s alright to be sad…” I tell him. “I’m sad.”

The Chop nods, and again, he looks away.

I take a deep breath. “Would you like to see DimSum? Uncle Grog has him out the back. He looks okay… Just like he’s sleeping. You don’t have to see him. But if you would like to say goodbye, you can.”

This has never been an option before– my kids have been too young or too asleep, or the pets simply in too much of a mess, for any physical goodbyes to be experienced. I’m not sure if this is right. But it feels like the thing that should be done, and that’s all I’ve got to go on right now.

DimSum1

Neither of them hesitate in saying yes. I ask if they’re sure, and again, they don’t hesitate. I remind them gently on our way outside that the cat is dead, he won’t be moving and he can’t wake up.

DimSum is laid out on the concrete, a light blue towel covering most of him. There doesn’t seem to be much damage to him, physically, but I spot a few bright red spots of blood on the corner of the towel and pray my kids don’t notice. I think all kids freak out at the sight of blood. Mine do. My son especially.

Neither of them appear to see it. “Poor Mr DimSum”, says the Chop, and we murmur in agreeance. I give my mate one last caress on his face– he is colder now, and doesn’t feel quite like himself– and ask the kids if they’d like to do the same. The Chop says no, and that’s fine. The Bump wants to, and I sit with her while she does.

“Bye, Mr DimSum” says my Bumpy girl as we return back inside.

The house feels weighted down with what we’ve lost.

***

My daughter is devastated by the loss of her ‘special friend’. Almost a week later and she’s still telling me, six times a day, that she misses DimSum and wishes he hadn’t died. She sleeps with a picture of the two of them next to her bed, and carries it around with her during the day.

My son, though, says nothing. It’s a wall of silence that’s deceptively easy to miss completely. Any silent grief he carries is veined with the shiny golden sunshine of his personality.

***

Losing a pet is a funny thing. It’s so distressing, yet its compounded effects are few. The implications of the deaths of even much-adored pets rarely spread further than the house in which they resided.

It’s just so damn sad. I add it up, count it on my fingers…. A father. A grandmother. A dog, three cats, and two chickens.

This is the experience my children have had, at five and almost four years old, with death.

It’s too much, and it’s not fair.

I just want it to stop.

{ 13 comments }

Kidspot's Top 50- Blog Your Way To Dunk Island – RRSAHM

Kidspot’s Top 50- Blog Your Way To Dunk Island

by Lori Dwyer on August 22, 2010 · 13 comments

Aloha,

You may recall me blowing my own trumpet a week or so ago about the KidSpot Top 50 and the chance to win a holiday to Dunk Island.

Ohhhhh yeah. I my head, I’m already there.

Whatever. Between fantasies that smell of cocktails and suntan lotion, and the fact that it’s halfway through 2010 and we haven’t had a holiday since March 2009, the topic of the Annual Purple House Family Holiday came off the domestic back burner and into the crystal clear blue pool. So to speak.

The residents of the Purple House (that’s us by the way- the Man and I, the Bump and the Chop) generally take our annual vacation in March, when it’s still warm enough to be enjoyable but the teeming school holiday crowds that swarm the coastline have departed back to suburbia. We missed the ’10 vacation due to a (still-kind-of) new baby and rampant disorganisation. (Mine. *Ahem*).

So March 2011, you have been warned. The residents of the Purple house are debunking to a holiday destination near you.

Anyways. The Man and I have been arguing deliberating over what kind of family holiday to take this year.  There are a few basic varieties of family holidays to choose from, as detailed below. I’ve even listed the pros and cons of each, taking into consideration all the necessary.. erm.. considerations. Such as our budget, time constraints, two small children, our budget, my own sanity threshold, and, of course, our budget.

 Tourist attractions: Dorky.

Option one : Camping Holiday.
Pros: Experiencing the great outdoors! Site costs are relatively inexpensive, so we could stay up to two weeks. Somewhat relaxing, provided everything runs to plan.
Cons: Constant vigilance is required, with two toddlers in tow. The outdoors is great, but it may just bite you on the bum with it’s creepy crawlies. Unless you can be bothered setting up your tent again and again and again, (not likely) you’re stuck in the one place.And while site costs are cheap, purchasing allllllll the necessary camping gear will be expensive. Especially if that camping gear ends up rotting in the garage for the next 25 years. (Highly likely).
Verdict: Nuh uh. As they say, camping may be tremendous fun, but it’s not for the faint of heart. And if nothing else, I am most certainly faint of heart.


Option Two: Driving Holiday
Pros: No flying required (I freaking hate flying, have I mentioned that before? Yes, I think I have). If boredom sets in and the natives children get restless, you just move on. And if you happen to run out of funds, you come home. A driving holiday means you get to see lots of different touristy things, and explore the back roads, if you’re adventurously inclined.
Cons: Driving long distances with small children may affect parent’s mental stability. And while in-car DVD players are a God-send, there is only so much PlaySchool one can take. Living in Sydney, your driving options are either north-coastal or south-coastal unless you have really good air conditioning and a tolerance for flies. And while there is theoretically plenty to do on the coastal trails, once you’ve been to every beach and met every koala between Batemans bay and the Sunshine Coast, it all kind of looks the same.
Verdict: Again?! Seriously?

Driving holidays: Coastal.

Option Three: Luxury Holiday
Pros:Ahhh, luxury. Activities for the children. And possibly somewhere we can lock them away for a few hours daycare.Beautiful rooms, beautiful scenery. Pina coladas in the pool. Let’s stop there, shall we?  I have tears coming to my eyes. And Barry Manilow playing in my head.
Cons: Dear Lord in heaven, I would have to fly. In an real actual tin can plane. I’m not sure I’m up for that. There is always a chance of tsunamis, sunburn or death by relaxation. And really, given our current budget, we’d be able to stay all of two and a half days before turning around and (hail Mary full of grace) flying home again.
Verdict: In my wildest dreams.

Option Four: Holidaying at Home.
Pros: Relatively inexpensive. No travel required. Money that’s saved on travel and accommodation can be used to hire a cleaner for a week, do fun things every day, eat out every night and still have some pennies left over.
Cons: The photos will be very boring. And idle hands make the devils work. If you do manage to switch off from your domestic duties (not likely!) life is still there to deal with at the end of the week, but you generally don’t have a tan and that “I’ve just had a change of scenery” attitude to help you cope.
Verdict: It might be fun! But…uh… I’m not sure that counts as a holiday?

Child free holiday? Not impressed, Mum.

Option Five: The Child-Free Holiday
Pros: The kids will love staying with the grandparents for a few days! (Right…? Right!) The Man and I get relax and do adult things. Like sleep. Everything is less expensive without children involved.
Cons: Hold on, wait, I know there has to be some cons here. Ah, that’s right, I’ll miss the kids. Yes. I would miss my little angels like crazy. And explaining to them when they are fifteen why they’re conspicuously absent from that particular batch of holiday photos may be difficult. But not impossible.
Verdict: When do we leave? No, really, I don’t think I could do it. They haven’t pushed me that far. Yet.

So there you have it. Given my paranoid fear of flying and my body’s inability to tolerate Valium, we normally go for Option Two: Driving Holiday. And, yes, we have met every koala between Australia Zoo and Mogo Zoo. Here’s one I prepared earlier. To protect his anonymity, let’s call him Frank.

 Frank the koala- Sleepy.

But I have promised the Man I will try and get over that this year- the fear of flying, not the Valium intolerance or the koala obsession, I stand by those- so our horizons are far broadened. Or something. As the budget allows.

Anyways, the point here is, what do you think, faithful blog readers? Do any of these options sound even remotely appealing? Or should we just say “Stuff it all” and start the new trend of Option Four: Holidaying At Home? Any ingenious options I’ve neglected to put on my list? What do you do for your annual holidays? Is it possible to overcome a fear of flying in just six short months? Do I even want to take that risk? If I am taking that risk, should we leave the kids at home, just in case?

Or am I really just kidding myself, and the residents of the Purple House are destined to take yet another coastal driving holiday, patting koalas and being driven insane by the competing technological wills of the in-car DVD player and GPS?

Obviously, I need some input here.

post signature

Leave a Comment

CommentLuv badge

{ 13 comments… read them below or add one }

Koh lanta holiday January 31, 2012 at 1:21 pm

Thank you for sharing these pictures of your vacation.

Reply

River August 23, 2010 at 8:51 pm

Lucy and Tenille said what I was thinking. A semi-camping holiday. Find a touristy destination that has cabins for hire and kids activities available. No tent or camping gear necessary and decent shelter from any unfortunate weather. If you can get there by train that's even better. No driving, no flying.

Reply

Cate P August 23, 2010 at 2:57 pm

I don't do camping and I don't particularly like flying either. But if I HAD to fly to Dunk Island… for free… well…

Reply

Sarah August 23, 2010 at 2:15 pm

Drive away from the coast! Blue Mountains is good for bushwalking etc. We're planning on going to Western Plains Zoo in a few weeks, it's like 4hrs drive I think. Otherwise head to Melbourne, it's no longer to drive than the Gold Coast. Or Canberra, lots of touristy things to do there.

Reply

Brenda August 23, 2010 at 12:39 pm

I am not a camping person. At all. So there.; )

Reply

x0xJ August 23, 2010 at 11:22 am

Pop a tent out in the backyard and make the hubby and kids have a "camp out" whilst mummy has a glass of wine and long hot bubble bath?…

Reply

Thea August 23, 2010 at 11:11 am

I love flying.
I hate camping.
Does that help?? hehe

Reply

Tenille August 23, 2010 at 9:28 am

I don't camp. I have strict guidelines; if I am required to wear thongs in the shower, it's camping.

My suggestion is to jump on Google Maps, find somewhere within reasonable driving distance that has one of those holiday cabin set-ups, and spend some time there. Or look up a farm-stay in the southern highlands?

Reply

Lucy August 23, 2010 at 7:49 am

Is there one of those caravan park type places within a close drive? Comfort campaing in a "chalet"?

Reply

The Frantic Mother. August 23, 2010 at 1:33 pm

I haven't been on a holiday in years. I may just have to take me one. LOL. Wait I have to have the green stuff called money that used to rain on me. Yea no holiday for me. What ever you decide good luck,

Reply

lacochran’s evil twin August 23, 2010 at 12:26 am

Any train options?

If you are going to tackle your fear of flying, why not start with a short flight with just the husband and see how it goes? Maybe a long romantic weekend while the kids visit the grandparents?

Reply

Jodie at Mummy Mayhem August 22, 2010 at 10:39 pm

Lori – pardon me, but are you, ah, scratching that poor koala's bum?!

I'm not a huge fan of flying either. A bit better about it these days, but i get it!

Good luck, hon. xxx

Reply

Eva Gallant August 22, 2010 at 11:02 pm

I hate to fly, so I would opt for the driving holiday. But then my kids are in their 30s and wouldn't be coming along.

Reply

Previous post:

Next post:

The House, Part Two. – RRSAHM

The House, Part Two.

by Lori Dwyer on January 27, 2012 · 21 comments

Continued from yesterday. Come on in… this place is eerie.

Enter the house and it’s almost enough to jarr your brain. One room is newspapers, stacks and stacks of them piled neatly and orderly– or once, they were, before the weather and the rats and time itself took to them.

Weather, and rats, and time. There is no graffiti on the walls, no fires set, no coke cans and chip packets to give squatters away. It feels as if no one has breathed the air of this house in, quite literally, years.

The newspapers go back for years. I find one dated 1940.

In the front hall is a drift of unopened mail– five hundred letters, maybe more. I open one and the date is 1971 and I feel like an intruder for the first time, a thief of memories and a breaker of sealed tombs.

This house is unsettling, strange and quite crew and so fascinating. The light is fading, but that is not the source of my frustration– I wish my eyes were bigger, to take more in.

The kitchens still holds a refrigerator, a stove, pots and pans and cooking utensils on the walls. There are jars with labels still attached, and I want one to take home with me but the roof has fallen in across the entry to the kitchen, long splintered wooden boards creating a huge diagonal gate across the doorway.

Another room is art supplies. There are shelves all around the walls, stacked with canvases and paint and brushes and palettes and easels. The floor is knee deep in paper– journals and diaries and notebooks with nothing special in them I can see, just names and dates and the occasional phone number. There is paperwork here of all kinds– loan statements with tiny paper stubs filled in by hand when a payment was made, letters to and from various organizations, dockets and shopping lists. A calendar on the wall has been frozen still in the 1960′s. The only thing I don’t see is artwork.

*Ahem* Obviously, the yellow is added by me.

In fact, the only artwork in the house I miss entirely the first time I am there– is it too dark to see the room, once, I think, a living room, that he stands in.

It’s when I come back a second time I discover him, and then only by the flash of my camera, the day is so overcast. He stands in the lounge room, along with a piano that was literally terrifying when I tried it, the sound of untuned keys that hadn’t been touched in years echoing in this strange house.

This house– that standing statue man in particular– are all kinds of weird and, to be honest, so fucking strange.

Clothes seem out of date with utensils, which seem out of date with all that paperwork, which is out of date to the letters in the hallway. It’s as if some massive, silent clock has stopped ticking… But in different rooms, at different times.

Yesterdays orb, close up… quite possibly a raindrop. And not nearly as impressive as the last orb.

I went back only once, to take photos, and felt unsafe without my dog. In fact, I felt damn unwelcome… call me all the crazy you want, but that house has a very stale, very bad vibe.

And I know where I’m not wanted. I try not to tempt fate, when it’s already bitten me once.

post signature

Leave a Comment

CommentLuv badge

{ 21 comments… read them below or add one }

Mrs BC February 3, 2012 at 9:08 pm

Lori this is Freaky Deaky! I love it! That sculpture must have given you a fright, looming up in the camera flash. I think the reason everything is so undisturbed is because whatever is causing the bad vibe wants it undisturbed. Perhaps when he died, his only rellos lived so far away they didn't do anything, & then just sort of forgot?
Please find out more!
x

Reply

Katinka Smith January 30, 2012 at 10:24 pm

This has spiked my interest! I wonder if this was the artist's home? If so, perhaps his daughter can help?

http://www.aavikartand.com/australian_artist_leene.htm

Katinka

Reply

Anonymous January 30, 2012 at 9:56 pm

Lori, I'm the same nationality as the name on the name on that page. Edgar Eduard Aavik is an estonian, who studied religion and legal studies. In 1944 he fled to Germany and in 1949 he came to Australia. As mentioned above, he was also an art teacher and a sculptor. Let me know if I can help in any other way!

Reply

SameliasMum January 30, 2012 at 1:28 pm

Super creepy!
You need to speak to the neighbours. Find out the goss… and then come back and tell us.

Waiting with bated breath.

Reply

Anonymous January 29, 2012 at 2:42 pm

Lori,
I have just googled Edgar Aadvik.
Art Teacher, sculptor. b. 1913 – d.1998
Wonder if this is the same as the name on the poster?
Hmmmm . . . .
Mrs. C

Reply

Karen January 29, 2012 at 2:43 am

I pick up those kinds of vibes- presences- very easily (not able to understand what I pick up, just very sensitive to it) and in full honesty, I sped through reading House I and House II just because looking at the pictures is giving me a very heavy, thick, not exactly unsafe but more like despair kind of vibe. As soon as I saw your first posted photo of House I, I said, 'ooh that place is haunted!' and wondered if you would mention anything about it!

Reply

Anonymous January 28, 2012 at 5:54 pm

Lori, I echo everything Belinda said.
Who just leaves a house and possessions without a war chasing them?
Did they really not have ANYONE who knew them or their home?
This is just begging serious investigation – or maybe let sleeping ghosts lie?
(So glad you came out the other side of Tony's anniversary. I could hardly bear to read your pain.)
Mrs. C

Reply

Cassondra January 28, 2012 at 9:10 am

Oh, and P.S. I showed my mom your blog and she read this post about the house and said it sounds like my grandpa's house. He was in a nursing home for over 10 years, and wouldn't allow folks into his house cause he was afraid we'd mess it up (kill the rats).

Reply

Cassondra January 28, 2012 at 9:08 am

I just found out last night that my third cousin (I didn't know him, just hearing through the grape vine after getting the funeral announcement) committed suicide on Monday. His wife found him when she came home from work. I hope you don't mind if I point her to your blog. I think she would find comfort here and it would be good for her to know she's not alone.

Reply

Anonymous January 27, 2012 at 10:01 pm

I would love to have a look, will be in the next tiny train town next week, what say we pick up Emma and go explore…. Donna…..

Reply

Miss Pink January 27, 2012 at 10:01 pm

Do you think that if you had of returned with Violet that you would have felt less unwelcome?
Gosh, I am so damn curious about this house now. It's story. Why was it so frozen? What happened to the people living there?

Reply

A Daft Scots Lass January 27, 2012 at 8:31 pm

I love creepy but I wouldn't stay there if there was a bad vibe. I love the fact that the clutter lying around has an intriguing interest. I'd spend hours poking around…

Reply

Anonymous January 27, 2012 at 2:48 pm

Lori, You really really need to find out the story behind that house.It's a fucking miracle nobody has touched it.Loved the orbs as well.I love a good abandoned house. My dream is to buy one.I wonder if your house is able to be purchased.Belinda.

Reply

Shelley @ My Shoebox Life January 27, 2012 at 12:25 pm

Wow, that has my head in a real spin. Would love to hear the tales from locals about it.

Reply

Steph(anie) January 27, 2012 at 11:56 am

Holy shit.

Reply

Good Golly Miss Holly! January 27, 2012 at 9:41 pm

Wowsers. That shit made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up!

Reply

OurGangof7 January 27, 2012 at 9:40 am

I love this stuff. This is so fascinating. You just have to dig a little for us and try to find out what happened in that house lol. A house with so many signs of life but it seems to have been just walked out on and no one seems to have ever gone back to it, some one in that town must know the story that goes with it.
I'm intrigued can you tell lol

Reply

Elizabeth @ wobblywibby January 27, 2012 at 8:59 am

Fascinating. Makes you wonder what happened…
p.s. You would be great to do a ghost tour with :P

Reply

Sarah Mac January 27, 2012 at 8:55 am

This is gripping – I just can't get my head around the fact that nothings been touched!

Reply

Kelloggsville January 27, 2012 at 8:48 am

Very creepy (and incredibly well written, gripping) I wonder what why who….blimey.

Reply

Erin January 27, 2012 at 4:05 pm

Wow would love to know the story of it all And Shelley is right the locals would have some great stories ,it seems to me as if something bad happened there .

Reply

Previous post:

Next post:

Lucid Dreaming. – RRSAHM

Lucid Dreaming.

by Lori Dwyer on October 14, 2013 · 3 comments

My mind has taken to producing the most bizarre, gothic dreams.

I don’t remember a lot of dreams, usually. I wake from foggy dead-sleep most mornings, aware that something has been happening in my sub-conscious. Some mornings- especially back when sleep was my own relief from the ongoing pain of being awake– I’d rise feeling as though I had run an emotional marathon in my sleep, the synapses that string across my brain taut and tight.

Now that I wake remembering what I’ve dreamt of, I understand why.

There’s rarely lightness in these dreams, rarely glittering sunlight or pretty gloamings. It’s always dark- even when my mind is projecting a scene that occurs in the daytime, I only know that because I know it, not because it’s light. I’m always in a dark, gloomy building. Sometimes I find myself underground, in a basement, crawling through tunnels.

I dream of my friends. I’m urban exploring with Auntie Mickey and my cat, Dim Sum, who’s been dead for months now but is alive and well and following us like a well-trained dog. We’re in the basement of an old, rotting building, which we’ve accessed from a tunnel outside. Two men, who’s faces I didn’t see or don’t remember, scare us and we begin to run. No, no, they say- they’re not security, just fellow explorers. But the building is starting to come down and we’d better run before we all get squashed.

And that’s when that all-too-common sense of hot dream anxiety begins and we’re running, calling for the cat as pieces of rotten floor and dirt crumble down upon us. Auntie Mickey is laughing and, logically, that tells me everything is fine, we are only metres from the day-lit entrance and we’re going to be okay. This is just a dream, after all.

I still wake, fretful, my jaw sore from clenching and my diaphragm clenched with anxiety, just before we break into the daylight.

The strange feeling of underground anxiety sits nervously on a ledge in the back of my mind for hours after I wake, clouding the first few hours of my day with a sick sense of panic. The shadowy visuals of the darkness, the warmth of my cat’s fur against my hand… they float at the corners of my consciousness.

I’ve been reading about lucid dreaming- the skill of being able to apply logic to your dream-state; of allowing yourself to control your actions in your dreams. I’m working on it. I check with myself at various points of waking to see- is this real? Am I awake here, or dreaming? I repeat to myself before I sleep “I am dreaming, I am dreaming, I am dreaming…” in the hope my mind will continue the phrase into my sleep. Already, things feel more tactile. The sleepy panic is more manageable- there’s a level of separate reality there. It’s more like watching a vivid, nail-biting movie scene than feeling the devastation, the irrational agony of those events actually happening and having no control over how my dream-self reacts to them.

Dreams are illogical, interesting places to immerse yourself in. The thought of controlling them is tantalising.

I’ll let you know how I get on.

 

Leave a Comment

CommentLuv badge

{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }

Marianne October 15, 2013 at 1:37 am

I have a re-occurring chase dream…and I’m always in multi-story buildings: high-rises, hotels, that sort of thing….I’m always rapidly changing directions…up this elevator, down those stairs, across that walk-over. Sometimes, usually, something is chasing me, intent on harm…I have had a few where I’m trying to get to someone who needs my help. Either way, it is incredibly exhausting. I’d love to know if you find a way to influence the pace of these sorts of dreams.
Marianne recently posted…My friend “Jane”My Profile

Reply

Hilary October 14, 2013 at 11:31 pm

Was that a Rat Cat reference in there? (Or am I just giving away my dodgy music history here)

Reply

Tanya October 14, 2013 at 11:05 am

Remembering my dreams is hit and miss but I definitely have a reoccuring thing happening where bad things happen. Devastating things and in my dreams I say to myself ‘oh god, this can’t be happening, this has to be a dream, this has to be a dream’ and sure enough I wake up right before the ‘reality’ of the devastating really takes hold on my emotions. Over time this has even started to be applied to my dreams where I seem to get my wallet stolen (I am dreaming of my wallet being stolen far more frequently than I think is normal btw).
This whole thing of telling myself I have to be dreaming is actually quite a relief since I haven’t had a ‘bad’ dream for years now…always wake myself with reality just in time.

Reply

Previous post:

Next post: