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All The Reasons Why. – RRSAHM

All The Reasons Why.

by Lori Dwyer on October 3, 2013 · 16 comments

It comes up a lot here, the question of why I moved to Melbourne, instead of The Most Amazing Man moving to TinyTrainTown.

It’s a loophole in my argument, a volley to be thrown. It’s not something I’ve really addressed. So- for the point of having a complete story here, without chunks of information missing- I might as well blog how and why that decision was made. And address, I guess, that startlingly misogynistic notion that the man in this relationship should have moved to me, instead of the other way round.

First off, it wasn’t like The Most Amazing Man didn’t offer to move to Sydney. Because he did, many times, and knowing him the way I do now, I’ve no doubt he would have happily settled into the existing rhythm of life with the kidlets and I. But nothing’s ever that simple, really, is it? There’s always more to it than that.

My work is flexible– I’m tempered only by my laptop and an Internet connection. The Most Amazing Man’s job is more stationary. The biggest practical concern when you’re permanently changing locations is work, is it not? And it was easier to uproot mine than it was to shuffle his.

If you’re going to do family life in a city, you have to choose one that’s livable. Melbourne, undoubtedly, is. It’s considered one of the most liveable cities in the world. Sydney, by comparison, is expensive and crowded and choked with traffic.

I dearly love Melbourne (everything except the weather, anyway. But that’s another post for another day). It’s colourful and diverse and friendly and accepting. Why would we both move somewhere we don’t particularly like, when we could both live somewhere we love?

With all that established, there was the kidlets to think about. And I did very little but think about it, for weeks and months on end. It’s not a decision you make easily. And sometimes it bothers me, even having made the decision and being happy with it. It niggles at me that children- everyone’s children, to a point, are at the whim of their parents decisions. They get swept along in the tumultuousness of grown-up’s lives. You do your best to consider their needs, their wants, what’s best for them. You listen to them. But ultimately, it’s the parents who get to decide what’s best for their children. It’s not fair, and I remember it smiting when I was a child, the feeling of impotence that comes with being so young and having no control.

But that’s the way it is, with life, and being a kid. And sometimes parents see things their children couldn’t possibly take in.

Like being surrounded by the whisper of a death, and needing a new life. A fresh start. A clean break.

I didn’t want my children to grow up in the shadow of what happened. If I can, to a certain extent, break them away from what happened so that life is sunny, instead of defaulted to grey and gloomy, I will.

And I did.

So, to the people who have asked “If he’s so amazing, why didn’t he move to you?”, the simple answer is- he would have.

But it seemed much healthier, for everyone involved, for us to move here instead.

 

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flask October 14, 2013 at 3:15 am

people actually write in and demand to know your reasons for doing things in your life?

wow.

see, i read your blog. the fact that you write a blog gives me license to read what you write. it does not give me license to make demands on you to justify your personal life to me or to anyone else.

you want to live in melbourne? fine.

last time i heard, moving to melbourne was a thing perfectly reasonable people do for a variety of reasons, none of which are mine to evaluate.

that said, i am glad you are happy with your decision.

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Emma Joyce October 5, 2013 at 11:36 am

Its fantastic that you moved for all these valid reasons Lori , the best for you , your kids and YOUR amazing man ! Looking forward to hearing more about your wonderful new life . Em and Helen are so happy for you x

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Cynthia October 4, 2013 at 4:19 pm

Thanks for posting about it. It makes me want to hear more about the After. Only now its a good “after” not a bad one. Life is amazing, amiright?

Live it!

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jojowilks October 4, 2013 at 11:44 am

I just assumed you would move there anyway- new man or not-you loved and gushed about the place everytime you went.
It seemed the obvious, unspoken next adventure. And now you have someone to do it with. :-)

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Carol October 4, 2013 at 11:17 am

Hey, what’s wrong with Melbourne weather?? ;) It’s a gorgeous day outside…. today. After a week of wind, rain, hail, falling trees, crashing thunder and sparkling lightening, with the blossom blowing in mahossive flurries looking like snow on the wind (gale force lol). So, get the kidlets outside and enjoy this beautiful, bright, sunny and clean day… who knows what tomorrow will bring :D
Change is as good as a holiday, so they say. xx

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Renee October 4, 2013 at 11:09 am

Excuse the language but.. It really fucking pisses me off that you have to justify yourself and your decisions to anybody else! This blog post should read simply.. “It’s my life, not yours..”

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Marianne October 4, 2013 at 2:19 am

Seriously, you owe no one an explanation. I’m frankly surprised that you didn’t move somewhere for a clean break way before now. I sincerly hope that you enjoy the clean slate for you and the kiddos and ignore the nay-sayers. There are those that just have to criticize.
Marianne recently posted…Purple People: EatersMy Profile

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Carly Findlay October 3, 2013 at 10:12 pm

I love that job moved to Melbourne – hope to see you and the amazing man soon :)

I also have a request – that has been discussed here before. Can you please consider ceasing using small text for certain sentences? I come at this from a web accessibility POV – it’s so hard to read. I imagine for the visually impaired, it’s even harder. Maybe use italics or a different colour? Please?
Carly Findlay recently posted…Julia Gillard in conversation with Anne Summers: “You have a decision to make: you could have a crap rest of your life”, [or you can move on].My Profile

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Carly Findlay October 3, 2013 at 10:13 pm
Jen Hale October 3, 2013 at 8:26 pm

No need to justify anything to anyone. There’s always more to a situation than how it appears. As long as you’re happy then that’s all that matters.
Jen Hale recently posted…AuthenticityMy Profile

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Nicole October 3, 2013 at 2:19 pm

I myself am going through a divorce and trying to find the balance of what is best for myself and my girls and to be honest sometimes it’s not the same balance. I don’t think you have to justify your actions to anyone. You did what you thought was the best for all of you and I wish you all the best. It takes a gutsy women to make the leap and do what you have done. I am following in your foot steps…so to speak.

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Miss Pink October 3, 2013 at 1:51 pm

It was never a question in my mind that you would be the one who would move to him. You adore Melbourne and have said so numerous times. I see that shadow you speak of follow you, I experience it which is completely bizarre. I understand your need to escape it, even if it means distance between those people you love and who love you the most. I am sure all of those people understand it too.
You are not ruining your children or stuffing up their lives by moving, people move all the time, and children? They usually adapt quickly when young. There is no reason Melbourne can’t become their safe place, their familiar.
Miss Pink recently posted…Dust Yourself OffMy Profile

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Whoa, Molly! October 3, 2013 at 11:52 am

It’s sad that there were people out there who felt like they needed some kind of justification from you as to why you make the choices you make. It’s lame that you had to explain yourself. It’s becoming this weird phenomenon that I’m noticing a lot of people doing these days and I find myself saying it over and over to friends: “You don’t need to explain yourself, it’s okay.”

I think you made a super brave and cool choice. I’ve been feeling Sydney grip around me in that awful way it does and longed for a change. Have you noticed that heaps of folk who live in Sydney hate Sydney? What is it about this town? I’m actually kind of jealous!

But really, if anyone deserved a fresh start, it’s you and your little ones. I hope it stays this awesome for you forever and ever.
Whoa, Molly! recently posted…ChernoblehMy Profile

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Drea B October 3, 2013 at 10:54 am

It strikes me as odd that people would think that you were ‘forced’ to move to him. Any two people in an grown up relationship would have discussed the pros and cons of both options, the issues of work and schools and family etc.

My husband moved states to me, and then relocated cities on my preference as well. But it wasn’t me being demanding and saying ‘this is how it will go’, it was a long discussion of the ins and outs and ups and downs to make sure we had an outcome we were both happy with. I find it bizarre that anyone would be in a committed relationship that consists of one person making all the demands and the other person changing their whole life around to meet it.

I probably shouldnt’ say this, but I’m glad you moved away from that road. You lost too much to that road, I was dreading reading about more loss down the track.

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Sue October 3, 2013 at 10:45 am

Beautifully written…. It takes a brave soul to make such a leap of faith.
I hope Melbourne removes the shadows from all of your lives, despite our weather :)

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Michelle Holland October 3, 2013 at 8:13 am

I think it is fine that you declared the reasons for moving here Lori, but I hope you don’t feel the need to justify yourself (if you know what i mean). I imagine it would have been a very difficult decision to move interstate, leaving your Mum, ‘uprooting’ the kids and taking the plunge into a new life. You are a brave woman. It was good to read your thought process and reasons….but at the end of the day it is your decision to make and your life to live. Anyone who wants to be all judgey about it after everything you have been through, can fuck off in my opinion.

I hope you are settling in well to Melbourne town and don’t worry about the kids – they are much more resilient than we are :-)

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The Bump Does Children Of The Corn – RRSAHM

The Bump Does Children Of The Corn

by Lori Dwyer on May 4, 2012 · 9 comments

I’m sure it’s not just me.

You know how some days you take photos of your kids, and in one frame they are just gorgeous, edible, cute enough to squeeze?

And then the next frame they show their true colors have that full on creepy evil child look about them, more like they will eat you in your sleep, given half the chance?

***
Do you remember back when you first turned eighteen and filling in surveys was enjoyable and made you feel like an adult…? No? Just me…?
Whatever. Virgin has a survey for Aussie mums running here. You could win five grand. It- honestly- only takes about 150 seconds and the bonus is that it will make you ask yourself the big questions- like what you want for the future of your kids. Again, maybe it’s me, but I seem to get so caught up in lunches and washing and bedtime stories, I forget about the Big Picture. Being asked to think hard about it refreshing, if nothing else.

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Kevin Westerman May 9, 2012 at 12:10 am

Too cute!

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loulouloves.me May 6, 2012 at 8:01 pm

Ha! Chucky! too cute…

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Suzi Bowles May 6, 2012 at 7:16 pm

He he, I love it!

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Danielle May 5, 2012 at 1:09 pm

Definitely hatching a plan for world domination… And cute enough to get away with it! She obviously knows girls with tiaras go far ….

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Karen at MomAgain@40 May 4, 2012 at 9:58 pm

Scary…!

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Melissa May 4, 2012 at 9:06 pm

BAHAHAH!! Children of the corn!! Hilarious! Thanks for the laugh this morning

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theshiremum May 4, 2012 at 6:53 pm

The Children of the Corn was so scary!! A creepy photo? No. Cheeky? Most definitely :)

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Fiona May 4, 2012 at 10:58 am

Evil! ;)

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Karen May 4, 2012 at 10:44 am

BWAA HAHAHA. The pic sequence is EXCELLENT! LOL

Also, I used to LOVE questionnaires. My sister and I used to make up questionnaires for each other… LOL

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Liar. – RRSAHM

Liar.

by Lori Dwyer on April 7, 2011 · 43 comments

Sometimes, I lie about the way Tony died.

Not when it feels consequential- not to people I know I will have to tell the truth to eventually anyway, although i suppose I will be caught out eventually, in some sticky social situation that will make me blush and feel like a liar.

But to causal people. A shopkeeper here, a nice old lady walking her dog there.

I know, I know. The irony, hey? The irony of the woman who proclaims that you should ‘speak‘ lieing to people, not mentioning them the full truth.

But sometimes it really is just… easier.

A small part of me, it doesn’t want to scare people, doesn’t to expose them to the shock of my what has become of my life. That little old lady, walking her dog… she didn’t need to know.

And other times, I just can’t be bothered. I’m brave when I have to be. When I don’t have to be.. I won’t.

Because I get sick of the look on people’s faces, as if I’ve slapped them. I get sick of the sympathy in their eyes becoming pity. I hate the thought that I know they would be thinking, because I used to think it too. In fact, most days, I still do.

What did you do?

Lori, what did you do?

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Poison April 9, 2011 at 10:38 am

I wrote you in an email but this is my first comment on the blog. As I told you in the email, my husband committed suicide 3-1/2 years ago. Five years prior he had a stroke and that is what makes sense to tell certain people that I really don't know. If I get to know the person better then I eventually tell them the truth and so far all have understood my reasons for doing so.

My sister said to me the other day that I shouldn't be embarrassed with the truth. It's really not so much embarrassed as it is some days it's enough just having to live with it without having to speak of it yet again. Some times it's just too exhausting.

In regards to your vlog, your house is adorable and girl you look great in your natural state… awesome eyes!

J.

P.S. Sorry if this posted twice?

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Andrea April 8, 2011 at 5:12 pm

What Kristy said.

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Cinda April 8, 2011 at 12:37 pm

It's your story and only you can tell it when you are ready. You shouldn't have to explain yourself to everyone, only the people you chose to at your time. You have the right to safe guard your family and to do and say what is right for you on your own time. Whatever you chose it's going to be okay for you.

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Kristy April 8, 2011 at 11:15 am

It is not you or anything you did. You probably "rationally" know that but you subconsciously wonder it. Besides all that, not laying it all out there for the people you describe sounds fine to me. It's your life and it's your right to protect it or open it up depending on the trust and relationship of who is in front of you. Just keep following your heart, even if it's broken.

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suburp April 8, 2011 at 10:44 am

Lori, it's your damn right to lie if it's better for YOU and everyone. this will continue throughout the rest of your life. people don't know (and some are just dumb or incredibly nosy) and your kids may stand right there. it's not easy to manoeuvre through perfectly innocent situations (for them) sometimes knowing that it could cause further damage and stress.. all the best with that.

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SawHole April 8, 2011 at 8:16 am

I am always being asked when I am having another baby. I can't because my bipolar disorder puts me at risk of psychosis. I just say I can't have any more. If I am feeling stroppy I say not with this husband.
You could just say Tony had a sudden illness. If pressed, then say it was a mood disorder.
xxx

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Marianna Annadanna April 8, 2011 at 8:11 am

You just do and say whatever feels comfortable for YOU.

I guess I can understand a stranger's look of shock, or sadness, or even pity. But I somehow doubt that they wonder what YOU did. I doubt they jump straight to blame.

In my recent struggle with Depression, some people have reminded me that I wouldn't be as hard on others as I am on myself – ease up on the self-judgement. Good advice, I think. For me at least.

Love, strength, and peace,
xo Marianna

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Veronica April 8, 2011 at 7:36 am

I can understand this. Sometimes you just need things to be easy and really, what business of theirs is it? It's like people who ask if you used fertility treatments to acheive pregnancy: WAY too much personal detail to give to someone you don't know well.

(((hugs)))

Be kind to yourself. xx

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Mena April 8, 2011 at 5:06 am

I found myself doing the same thing. I lost someone I love dearly the same way. My first thought when a person asks how he died is always: How am I going to explain that he took his own life? I just tell people he drowned. :(

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Watercolor April 8, 2011 at 4:31 am

WHY are people asking you how he died??? Just say your husband passed away recently. And if they ask how, just say "it really doesn't matter, does it." You don't have to lie because you don't have to answer. Hugs!!!!

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Heidi April 8, 2011 at 4:18 am

Say what you need to say to make your day easier. In the end, someone who would think, even fleetingly, that what Tony did was in any way your fault has clearly never suffered from depression – at all the points in my life where my chronic depression has reared its head, the one thing I can guarantee you is that it is in no way the behavior of my loved ones that is at fault. Some monster in my head, sure…but not the people who love me.

I've lurked, reading your posts and moved by your journey, for some time but I wanted to come out of the shadows long enough to say that it isn't your fault and it's entirely okay for you to tell someone else what you need to tell them in order to keep going.

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Lillian2611 April 8, 2011 at 2:50 am

Ironic though it may be, Lori, that information is private.

Using your blog to vent and explain and think out loud is one thing and it's in your control. But we're choosing to come here because we're like you. You can't be sure of that in these ordinary day-to-day situations.

Say what you like. Be you. And if that changes tomorrow or in an hour, so be it.

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In Real Life April 8, 2011 at 1:18 am

I moved to a new city, from a small town, shortly after my mom died (from breast cancer), and it was such a relief that not everyone knew that my mom had passed away, I often didn't tell people at all. I was only 19 then, and I hated that awful, sympathetic, pitying look…and the inevitable blurt out that "your so young to lose your mother." – HATED IT. I understand that you don't want to tell everyone you meet your whole story, and you don't have to. *HUGS*

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Cassondra April 8, 2011 at 12:09 am

It's not you. It's not something you did. And if they can't recognize it then it's only because they don't understand or know what it's like. I know, it's shocking. It was a shocking thing for him to do, so let them be shocked. It's not your fault, and you shouldn't blame yourself, or let them blame you with the pity in their eyes.

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ForeverRhonda April 8, 2011 at 12:03 am

I would probably lie to those inconsequential people. The lady at the grocery store does not need to hear your story. You don't need the looks that people tend to give in those situations. Don't feel like a liar. You are just doing what you need to do right now.

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Jodie at Mummy Mayhem April 7, 2011 at 9:59 pm

I'm with Glowless…it's an omission, not a lie. Do whatchya gotta do, hon. xxx

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Alienne April 8, 2011 at 7:36 am

I generally just say my husband died these days – family and friends know he committed suicide but it is no business of strangers, and more likely to upset them anyway. I don't think my younger daughter has ever told any of her friends what happened; she just said he had died and left it at that.

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Melissa April 7, 2011 at 8:58 pm

Oh I don't think it's a lie, not really. Survival. We do what we have to. I remember after I had my miscarriages and before I had my chilren, when people would ask, "Do you have any children?" I would respond, "No." even though I felt I was betraying my babies in heaven. Spare yourself when you need to – whatever you need to do – it's okay.

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cassey April 7, 2011 at 8:39 pm

You don't owe anyone your story. Omitt away, I say.

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River April 7, 2011 at 8:17 pm

I understand about the lying which isn't really lying, but more an omission, like Glowless said. I lied too, well, omitted the truth when I told my mum why hubby and I separated. It's a normal thing to do, don't beat yourself up over it.

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Sophie April 7, 2011 at 8:11 pm

I tell the truth. And then I wait for that 'slapped' look and then see what happens. Most people will shy away… they don't really want to know about death. Some will ask questions and connect with you. I have gotten to the point where i think those people are brave.

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Kristina Hughes April 7, 2011 at 7:53 pm

I also totally agree with what Toni said – people's view of others tends to be clouded by their own experience and how things affect them. Not many people really "listen" without a little private conversation going on in their own head.
There's no point in telling every man, woman and dog your story unless you need or want to. None of their business. Not lying at all.
Have a lovely day in Paradise, Lori xx

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Carly Findlay April 7, 2011 at 7:45 pm

It is not really the same, but I hate explaining my appearance to strangers.
If only we could just answer 'because'.

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liz April 7, 2011 at 7:44 pm

Dear Lori, I have been lurking on here for some time now, following you daily. I cannot even find the words to convey what I want to say about what you are going through. So, I will just say this: I understand.

My Mum took her own life 11 years ago, in a pretty horrific way, and I still find, all these years later, that I don't tell the exact story, or I greatly bend the truth, just so that I don't have to tell them what she did. You too don't need to share this information Lori, unless you want to. You're not lying, you're just choosing to withhold information, that's all. It's ok.

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Sharnanigans April 7, 2011 at 7:37 pm

what Toni said

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mel April 7, 2011 at 6:23 pm

mel_mc@iinet.net.au

What Toni said… Thankyou for sharing everything.

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Ms Styling You April 7, 2011 at 5:31 pm

I often find it difficult to even say that my mum or mum in law died … it's opening a can of worms with people you may not want to open anything with. Just stick with those who you want to talk to and suit yourself who that is.

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Leanne Scrapper April 7, 2011 at 5:29 pm

Hear hear to all of the above! It's your story to tell as and when you see fit to the people you choose to share it with.

Not really relevant but we had an 8 yr gap between our eldest two kids due to infertility issues, and when I fell the second time the comments and questions I would get regarding the age difference were astounding – what goes through people's minds that they think they need to know very personal details about someone they barely know?!

You sound so much more peaceful now, I hope you are, and you are doing an amazing job :)

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Thug in a Cocktail Dress April 8, 2011 at 1:38 am

as a mental health therapist…
what u r doing is completely normal.
nearly 30 people have commented prior…no need to expound upon what u already know.

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Karen April 7, 2011 at 2:31 pm

I wouldn't call it lying.

I think what you're doing is setting boundaries. You choose whom you let in and whom you keep out (politely or not!)

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alliecat April 7, 2011 at 2:13 pm

It's not lying the way I see it. It's self protection. Maybe the lady walking the dog doesn't need to hear it, and maybe that day you don't need to say it out loud just as much. I don't think as a rule people would be thinking 'what did you do?', and if they are then they are very ignorant about depression. You have to do what is right for you on the day.

I lie all the time about our dead baby til it feels safe to tell the truth. People don't like to hear about suicide and they also don't like to hear you ended a pregnancy halfway through because of terrible problems with the baby. It's definitely self protection why I don't tell the truth of "how" we lost our first baby. It's easier to say we 'lost her' and sometimes it's easier not to say anything at all. Either way, it hurts like hell. You can only do what is right for you. xx

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Donna April 7, 2011 at 2:12 pm

This is so deeply personal that you get to call the shots. Its very much ok to divulge only on a "need to know" basis xx

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SheLikesToTravel April 7, 2011 at 1:59 pm

I've thought of you so often over the last few months, but I rarely write any comments.

Please don't feel that you have to fully explain every detail just because someone asks. If you choose to make your answer a bit more vague, that doesn't make you a liar.

And you didn't do a thing to cause this. You are not responsible for actions of another.

I think you are an incredibly strong person.

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Through the looking glass April 7, 2011 at 1:42 pm

It's your business hun and you should be able to do what you want. x

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bloodsigns April 7, 2011 at 12:51 pm

I get it now — my mother used to tell me "don't tell people of the way your father died" — and at the time I didn't understand — I somehow internalized the shame — that it was somehow about me… and what I could or couldn't tell — but she was trying to protect me "because people won't understand" — I understand now — how difficult it can be to be in the world –and how difficult to live in a world of 'normal' when something has happened to make you feel otherwise — I don't always tell people either — "a car accident" I'll say — or just "an accident." It amazes me how nosy people can be —

It's okay. I've lied too — and we do whatever we can to get through Lori — you'll get through –and your little ones will too.

I love the way you talk about Paradise — I love the little cinema and the idea of kangaroos the way we have deer here…the simplicity and small joys of life returning. I so wish that for the three of you.

Love,

Pam

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Glowless @ Where’s My Glow April 7, 2011 at 12:41 pm

It's not a lie, it's an omission :P Every man (or granny in this case) and their dog don't need to know if you don't want them to/can't be bothered having that conversation today.

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Miss Pink April 7, 2011 at 12:38 pm

I think if it were me, i'd probably lie. Not from shame, but because i wouldn't want the pity, people feeling sorry for me.

I have never EVER thought for a second "What did you do Lori?" So maybe other's aren't too? I've only ever thought how unfair it is, for you, for the kids, even for Tony.

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Being Me April 7, 2011 at 12:36 pm

I get it. I know those looks, have had to deal with them for 7 yrs. And still, I agonise over "having to reveal"… and if not, am I a liar. Am I dishonouring either the person I'm telling, or me, or my family, for not divulging?

Fact is, you are the one who can decide. You can decide to tell the shopkeeper but not the little old lady. Tell the school teacher but not the coffee shop guy. You can make it up as you go along. And none of it is wrong. You hear? xxx

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THE Bird April 7, 2011 at 10:28 pm

…Do you know Lori, that 'little old lady' could have been in the same situation as you…. How would you know? ….One day Lori, you will be 'the little old lady' who just happens to see a girl, a girl who is grieving exactly how you once did.. Don't discount these meetings with little old strangers, (however fleeting). They will be willing you strength, suport & love. xxx

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Tara @ Our Whirlwind Adventures April 7, 2011 at 4:08 pm

If you don't want to tell, don't.
I lost a family member to cancer, and sometimes didn't want to tell people, because it's more upsetting to remember why they'd died.

You didn't do anything Lori, and anyone who makes you feel guilty about what happened, isn't worth a pinch of shit x

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Sandy April 7, 2011 at 3:54 pm

It's been said, but I, nor any other SANE person with even the Grinchiest heart would ever think, "What did you do".

No one can drive someone to take their own life. Having been there myself, I know it wasn't anyone else. It was me and how I chose NOT to deal with things. Me NOT handling issues or situations that involved people… but no one was responsible for my actions.

You know this… that it was something wrong inside him, no disrespect to Tony, but it wasn't you. You know that.

And as for everyone else… fuck 'em. People, we lie everyday about MUCH more mundane, idiotic things.. because it's easier.
You just do what you have to do.
xoxo

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Toni April 7, 2011 at 3:34 pm

Lori, honest to God, the inside of most peoples' heads looks like this
ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME you ME ME ME ME ME ME
I can almost guarantee that most of them are thinking "OMG how does this affect ME?" "What should I say?" "What do I do if she starts crying?" etc etc. In other words, it's all about them.
And you absolutely, 100% have the right to protect yourself from the pity, the shock, the careless comments – it's not disloyal to Tony, and it doesn't make you a liar.
xxx

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Patricia April 7, 2011 at 2:29 pm

What did you do? You watched the love of your life make a monumental f**k up and now you are surviving the aftermath. How are you doing it? That's what I wonder… how are you doing it? Keep on keeping on Lori, you are amazing.

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The Eye Of The Storm…? – RRSAHM

The Eye Of The Storm…?

by Lori Dwyer on December 21, 2011 · 25 comments

December has passed so quickly, been so busy… it’s had new life and Christmas trees and the weather here in TinyTrainTown still feels oddly like winter, not at all like last year… or maybe it is like last year, the heat didn’t break properly last summer until the beginning of January. All that heat, all that pain… it felt like hell, and the few hot days we’ve had leave me pawing frantically against sensory memories, a disturbing feeling that something is wrong, even when it’s not.

But December, so far… December has been OK.

I feel like I’m in the eye of a storm. A big one. The eerie, quiet centre of a cyclone, with a strange bursting air pressure filling my ears. Maybe I’m just being pessimistic, but do you blame me…? It feels as if there will be two weeks of penance, two weeks of relived torture. And they begin on January the first.

So… forgive me if I starve you all of new blog posts for the week between Christmas and New Years. It’s not all bad news- the 26th till the 30th of December is Retro RRSAHM Week. I’ll be reblogging some of my favorite posts from Before which you may not have stumbled across yet. I promise you, if nothing else, I will keep you supplied with light jellybean style entertainment while you lounge off the Christmas and Boxing Day overindulges (and the earlier-than-even-close-to-reasonable wake ups endured by the parents of small children).

The eye of the storm, or the centre of the ferris wheel. One of my favorite photos this year, taken from my Instagram feed.

I’ll be back January second. It might not be fun here, those first few week of January. But stick with me, hey? Not only are things getting sunnier, but I got a brand new blog design to add to the surreality of it being almost a whole since Before.

Almost a year. A year. If  I’ve done a year… this will not be the thing that breaks me. Not this lifetime.

Oh, and don’t go anywhere just get… I have a story coming for you tomorrow, that we’ll call a Christmas carol. I promise you, you’ll like it.

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{ 25 comments… read them below or add one }

Livi December 24, 2011 at 2:59 am

Try and have a rest *hugs*

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Jodie December 23, 2011 at 3:07 am

You're just incredible Lori. <3 <3

I've only been following your blog for a couple of months since you were profiled in the Offspring Mag, now I'm addicted!

My 'girlfriend' committed suicide just over 2 years ago, we were only casual and had no kids etc, but god-damn it was hard and I took a hard slog, ending up in hospital myself a few times.

I now have a 1 year old daughter and get that you have had to get on with things for them.. (the only thing I can compare it to is when i've been horribly sick with the flu & had to 'suck it up' even though I feel like death to look after bub)

When I read about your medium experience I think I cried for 2 days..I am 'atheist' but for the past 2 years have been desperately searching for something..& sometimes.. sometimes I think maybe she's here.. but then I struggle with those thoughts because I don't believe in that!

I also struggle with *wishing so much* that she was back here.. that I could bring her back.. but then I think how selfish I am, because this world was just not enough (Or too much?) and she chose to exit, so who am I to bring her back (if it were possible)

The first year is ABSOLUTELY the hardest.. there's so many 'firsts'… first birthday without them, first anniversary, christmas, winter…'

It starts hurting a little bit less after the first year… just a little.

Much love to you, Chop & Bump. I hope the new year brings you all nothing but happiness & love!! xx

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cjtato December 22, 2011 at 8:24 am

I hate that impending sense of doom. I get it around October most years (not for nearly the same reason as you though).

I hope you take the time you need to get through the next few weeks. Merry Christmas to you and yours.

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Cassondra December 22, 2011 at 3:25 am

I'm all for time off, we all need it from time to time no matter what we've been through. I've been reading here less than a year, and though I've read through some of your archives I haven't read NEAR everything, so I'll look forward to the posts that will be new to me I'm sure. Just remember that as you go through the anniversary of everything going wonky we're here for you however you need it. If you need to rant or cry or just hide, we're here for you.

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Melissa December 21, 2011 at 11:49 pm

Merry Christmas to you, Bump, and Chop. I hope there is joy and laughter. We'll be right here waiting for you when you come back. And we'll stick with you during this first anniversary. Lots, lots, lots of love you brave little mama, you. Hold on. Ride it out.

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iampisspot December 21, 2011 at 11:20 pm

Hey Lori, we'll be here – right beside you xx

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Tone-in-Oz December 21, 2011 at 8:17 pm

xmas l. x

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Grace December 21, 2011 at 4:08 pm

It's been amazing to see you move from strength to strength, Lori. What a ride it's been. Wishing you all the very best for you and your gorgeous family this Christmas x

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Wanderlust December 21, 2011 at 3:03 pm

Sending you love and light. You will make it to the other side. You've come through so much worse, and look at you. You're doing great. x

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Jolene’s Mumbo Jumbo December 21, 2011 at 3:02 pm

Taking time to be kind to yourself and to love your babies sounds like the best way through Lori.
Sending you much love x

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Rhonda December 21, 2011 at 2:35 pm

Have a good bloggy break. Your pretzel m&m;'s are on their way. :)

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Just Me December 21, 2011 at 2:18 pm

I remember my first Christmas "After"…it was only 38 days later. It was AWFUL, but my children were my saviors. They kept me stable enough to get through, they kept me remembering there was a future, they kept me remembering there were plenty of opportunities for grand times after all we had been through.

I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, leaning on friends and family and even complete strangers half way around the world is not showing weakness in the least. It actually shows strength that you need to do what you need to do for you and your children. May your Christmas be wonderful, find anything positive you can this holiday season and hold onto it, it will grow and grow and help you more then you can believe.

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Denwise aka Denyse Whelan December 22, 2011 at 1:11 am

Thinking of you always…. And will be with you in spirit & loving care at all the bumps, the turns and the different ways the journey towards Jan & beyond takes you… Much love D xxxxx

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Miss Pink December 21, 2011 at 1:44 pm

Who's going anywhere?
I haven't left yet, and I don't plan to!
Remember to reach out if you need it. We're here and want to help.

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Miss Pink December 21, 2011 at 1:44 pm

Who's going anywhere?
I haven't left yet, and I don't plan to!
Remember to reach out if you need it. We're here and want to help.

Reply

Amy xxoo December 21, 2011 at 1:39 pm

Oooh… Retro RRSAHM? I've been around here almost since the very beginning, so i'm looking forward to this!

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Lydia La La December 21, 2011 at 12:13 pm

Just take care and do what ever has to be done. XO

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Sharon @ Hear Mum Roar December 21, 2011 at 12:03 pm

Have been thinking of you a lot at this time of year. Please be gentle with yourself

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Ms Styling You December 21, 2011 at 10:26 am

Yes, you've done a year. You are strong even when you think you are not xx

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Annicles December 21, 2011 at 9:58 am

This will not be the thing that breaks you, and if this doesn't, nothing will.

I so admire your courage, your love, both for your children and for Tony, it would be too easy to hate. I admire your strength. On your worst days you still make it to the next. I admire your honesty. I have read you for a year and I have nothing that can make you feel better or stronger or healed or anything else that I could wish you, but I do hold you in my heart and hope that that, in some small measure, adds to all your other friends who hold you in their hearts. We hold you and hope. I hope that you have a happy and hopeful Christmas and new year. And I send you love.

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KateOnTheBike December 21, 2011 at 9:50 am

You have such amazing courage. I can sense that "eye of the storm" feeling in your writing.

Whatever comes your way over the next few weeks, know that you have hundreds of people right here standing beside you.

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Rachel December 21, 2011 at 9:40 am

Have a beautiful Christmas lovely. I will be here every step of the way. I have been thinking about you and the first two weeks of January. But as you say, it has nearly been a year, and here you are. This will not be the thing that breaks you. You are truly amazing. Wishing you lots of love and happiness for Christmas with the kids and the new kitty.

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Madam Bipolar December 21, 2011 at 9:34 am

Merry Christmas, petal. Xxx

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Madmother December 21, 2011 at 7:46 pm

Hey. xxxxxx

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Toni December 21, 2011 at 12:07 pm

I get what you're saying about hot days — for me it's rain in July.

It's just all wrong that you're having to do this, Lori.
We're all watching you walk forward into it, and there's not a damn thing we can do but wait for you to come out the other side.
But you WILL make it.
xxx

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Life But Not As We Know It

Life But Not As We Know It

Morbid.

by Lori Dwyer on May 10, 2013 · 9 comments

My children appear to have some kind of obsession with death lately.

It’s not so much an obsession with their father dying, or having died, as with the whole concept in general.

I’m not sure if it’s entirely normal, or ‘normal’ for children who’ve had to deal with death so close up at such a young age. I’m not sure if it’s healthy for them to discuss it so much. I don’t encourage it, but nor do I discourage it or shut them down when the topic comes up. I find myself watching keenly in order to see if I actually do hear the words ‘dying’ and ‘death’ as often as I think I do, or if I’m just overtly sensitive and tuned to the sound of it.

The characters in my daughters dollhouse- a mixture of porcelain nic-nacs, Barbie dolls and Maccas toys- are constantly dying, their whole families perishing in terrible hot air balloon accidents. The make-believe games that the Chop and her play often end in death, and my son makes dramatic declarations about what would happen, exactly, should he step into the gas heater (“Goodbye, family…” he roleplays, a mimic of seriousness attempting to squirm itself into a smirk on his face).

Part of the reason for this phenomena has to lay in the testostor-isation of my boy-child, the newly found roughness that’s come with Big School and Skylanders, Ben 10 and being five. And if I compare one child with the other, the Bump at this age to the way the Chop was two years ago, then her questions and discussions around death seem comparative with his. She still asks questions, about Heaven and death and Daddy. My son rarely questions anything anymore, and acts as some form of instigator of truth and their reality as he sees it. Generally it’s kind and gentle corrections, filling in the potential gaps in her knowledge with what he already knows. Only occasionally does it take a more fervent, aggressive tone (smacking his sister in the head because she dared to argue the topic of whether or not people can come back from the dead- the Chop obviously on the side of the negative- was a particular low point in sibling instruction).

As I do with most everything I’m not quite sure about, I’m leaving this one to run it’s course. I’d rather they talk about this stuff than didn’t. I’d much rather them mention it when they feel they need, than not be able to mention it at all.

{ 9 comments }

Countdown To Borneo: 13 Days

by Lori Dwyer on May 7, 2013 · 3 comments

Countdown to Borneo: 13 days to take off.

Anxiety Level: Moderate

Organisation Level: Moderate to High

***

I’m existing in a bubble of my own self-inflicted anxiety. The things I’ve been meaning to do before I left for Borneo are piling up, one atop another, in a heap marked ‘Later’. (Visiting both the shrink and the dentist, toilet training my daughter…. all the best of good intentions that can certainly wait).

I am going overseas for the first time (kind of) in less than two weeks. The days are toppling onto one another like a pile of dominoes. A clicking, sliding house of cards that disappears flat into itself with such startling rapidity you barely have time to catch your breath before the next rows fold into each other.

Don’t think about it, just do it. I’m terrified. But, if nothing else, I’m an expert at just putting one foot in front of the other. And that’s how I’m choosing to approach the next thirteen days. One thing at a time. One task at a time, as it becomes important. Try not to forget anything. Especially breathing, in and out, and reminding yourself you will be fine.

I’m in a good head-space for it. I know this feeling- it’s bizarrely nostalgic, reminiscent of a another time when I was so terrified all I could do was one moment at a time, one task as it became important. But this time around, it’s laced with magic and adventure and excitement. I’m focusing on that- the exquisite, exciting apprehension of it. Because if I don’t, I may just find myself paralysed with crippling fear. And that won’t do, not in this situation. Not at all.

***

“”You are exactly where you are supposed to be, in this moment, right now,” Our yoga teacher said to us. My racing mind immediately came to a screeching halt to digest this new and profound information.”

Paula’s Story, published at Carly Findlay’s blog

“You know, I’ve been thinking, everything is…just comes together. It’s me. I chose this. I chose all of this. This rock…this rock has been waiting for me my entire life. It’s entire life. Ever since it was a bit of meteorite a million, billion years ago. There, in space. It’s been waiting, to come here. Right…right here. I’ve been moving towards it my whole life. The minute I was born, every breath I’ve taken, every action has been leading me to this crack on the out surface.”

127 Hours

I like to think sometimes the Universe presents you with tiny nuances, recurring themes to remind you that the world is much bigger than you can conceive. Signposts, perhaps. to tell you that you’re on the right path. To present you with tools you may need to do what you have to do.

Or maybe I just look too hard and put far too much significance in the blog posts I read, and the movies I watch.

Whatever.

I am exactly where I need to be, right now.

Things roll out the way the do for a reason.

{ 3 comments }

A Different Kind Of Missing Someone.

by Lori Dwyer on May 6, 2013 · 3 comments

I miss my gran.

It comes in slapping gulps, every now and then, flashes of cold water reality shocking my psyche. It’s a different kind of missing someone, a different kind of mourning. My life has continued relatively normally since she’s been gone– there has been no huge adjustment to make, I haven’t had to reassess my entire existence the way I did after Tony died.

It’s just that my Gran has been so firmly woven into my life, ever since I was a child… sometimes my mind bumps over the expectance of her being here. I’ll drive past her street, or think of her in present tense.

I’m exquisitely aware of the absence of her. Of how she’s always been here…and now she’s not. It takes me by surprise. And every time, I cover it up, shovel life over the top of it until it doesn’t hurt so much any more.

I can’t grieve anymore. I’ve only just made my way out of the blackness of that pain, of missing my husband. I’m reluctant to begin mourning all over again. It doesn’t feel right, missing someone piecemeal and in parts, rather than as an all encompassing presence.

But at the same time, this feels like grief untainted and pure. Missing someone without being angry at them for leaving, without feeling a though the Universe got it wrong.

The memory of my grandmother is rich and worn, comforting and familiar; the softly worn paper of a book I’ve read a thousand times. I remember fretting badly, the night of Tony’s funeral, worrying that I would lose the sound of his voice. That it would fade out of existence and I’d no longer remember what it sounded like when he said my name.

I’ve not encountered that thought yet about my grandmother. Her voice comes into my head unbidden, so distinct it may as well be her there speaking in front of me. The crinkle of her eyes, the sound of her laugh. Her warm, comforting practicality.

I hold the memory of her as a omen, a token, a warm blanket to wrap myself in. Proof that there’s goodness in the world. Proof that lives well-lived are entirely possible.

{ 3 comments }

Closer – RRSAHM

Closer

by Lori Dwyer on February 17, 2014 · 0 comments

My children and I grow closer and closer, and that’s lovely.

The simple fact is that we spend more time together now than we did before, without grandparents and friends to pick up my slack. But it’s hardly just hours logged, minutes spent together. You can spend all your time with someone and barely know them.

It’s relying on each other more, too. Happies and sads, disappointments and hopes– they’re shared and divided amongst the four of us now, rather than dispersed amongst an entire extended family. I’m acutely aware that there is no filter beneath us now. If things slip through the cracks, they are gone. Needs and concerns not met by myself or The Amazing Man slip off into the ether and become part of the karma of the world. There is no second line of defence, no other attentive able adults to catch what we do not.

We are closer. I am the lucky recipient of more cuddles, more chatter. We sift through the verbal wreckage of childhood language and cues and attempt to smooth out the bumpy bits, to remove debris that may catch and snag the kidlets long into their adulthood.

It’s a comforting burden, a pleasant pressure akin to a heavy blanket on a warm winters night. It’s always there. Sometimes you are benignly aware of the weight of it, sometimes not. It gets difficult- you stick out feet and hands, pieces of yourself exposed to regulate the heat.

Other times, you wrap yourself in it. Snuggle deep inside it and feel nothing but gratitude for what it provides.

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Closer – RRSAHM

Closer

by Lori Dwyer on February 17, 2014 · 0 comments

My children and I grow closer and closer, and that’s lovely.

The simple fact is that we spend more time together now than we did before, without grandparents and friends to pick up my slack. But it’s hardly just hours logged, minutes spent together. You can spend all your time with someone and barely know them.

It’s relying on each other more, too. Happies and sads, disappointments and hopes– they’re shared and divided amongst the four of us now, rather than dispersed amongst an entire extended family. I’m acutely aware that there is no filter beneath us now. If things slip through the cracks, they are gone. Needs and concerns not met by myself or The Amazing Man slip off into the ether and become part of the karma of the world. There is no second line of defence, no other attentive able adults to catch what we do not.

We are closer. I am the lucky recipient of more cuddles, more chatter. We sift through the verbal wreckage of childhood language and cues and attempt to smooth out the bumpy bits, to remove debris that may catch and snag the kidlets long into their adulthood.

It’s a comforting burden, a pleasant pressure akin to a heavy blanket on a warm winters night. It’s always there. Sometimes you are benignly aware of the weight of it, sometimes not. It gets difficult- you stick out feet and hands, pieces of yourself exposed to regulate the heat.

Other times, you wrap yourself in it. Snuggle deep inside it and feel nothing but gratitude for what it provides.

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Guest Post- A Bottle of Vodka For the Swimming Teacher? – RRSAHM

Guest Post- A Bottle of Vodka For the Swimming Teacher?

by Lori Dwyer on December 14, 2010 · 16 comments

Hey’all,


I’m veeery lucky to have Fibro Al from Life in A Pink Fibro House guest posting today. She’s a funny, insightful blogger, a loyal Tweeter, and a real writer. As in, for real publications on paper. I know. I almost feel like I should pay her. I did offer her chocolate. She was gracious enough to turn it down, which is good, because most chocolate that comes into my hands leaves in only one way- being eaten.

Fibro the Snowman.

An apple/soap/fluffy toy/bottle of vodka for the teacher

I was at the pool when I realised I had a problem. I was actually standing there, contemplating the fact that I had failed to bring Teacher Gifts for the two Speedo-clad girls who attempt to keep Misters 6 and 3 from drowning each week. They have endured much splashing and chlorine up the nose this year. Do they get a gift?

I’m relatively new to the Teacher Gift. When Mr6 was in preschool he attended a hip, multicultural inner-city establishment. They didn’t close for holidays and Christmas was just another ‘cultural celebration’, alongside Diwali and Ramadan. There was no such animal as a Teacher Gift.

Fast-forward to Mr6’s first year at school. The day before school finished he announced that he wanted to give his teachers (three of them!) a present “like everyone else”. With accompanying ‘get it together Mum’ look.

I admit, I was perplexed. What exactly does one buy? Unfortunately, I was not yet au fait with Bern Morley’s fabulous blog, and so missed the bottle of vodka example. I was also uncertain as to whether teachers like these gifts – or simply endure them. After all, how many rose-scented soaps does one person require in their life? (In an attempt to answer this conundrum, I tried a survey on Twitter. The one teacher who responded assured me that she loved them. She also said that kids just love giving them. Though she suspected that parents were not as enamoured of the whole idea. You think?)

In the end, I bought each teacher a delicious little notebook. Small luxuries.

This year, I have upgraded the Teacher Gift (two teachers this year!) to a delicious little notebook and a Christmas decoration. This, I have decided, will be my Signature gift. I who have never had a Signature anything have a Signature Teacher Gift. What does this say about how my life is evolving?

Anyhoo.

Now that I’ve worked out the Signature, I have to decide where to bestow it. The lovely guitar teacher who has spent a year trying to teach Mr6 and I to play more than the riff from ‘Smoke on The Water’ got a notebook. She’s a family friend. She’s in year 12. She patiently watches me stuff up my chords each week.

She deserves a notebook.

But what about the rest? The Ninja teachers? I can’t see them with a notebook. Or a Christmas decoration for that matter. The swimming teachers? Soggy. Mr3 has yet to make noises about his preschool teachers – of which there seems to be a cast of thousands – but do I go down that path if he decides to bring it up?

That’s the trouble with starting these things. There’s no end to them. On the plus side, I do love stationery shopping. And it looks as though I’ll be needing a little notebook of my own – just to keep my Teacher Gift list in order.

Do you do Teacher Gifts? How do you decide who gets one? Do you have a tried-and-true standard gift (the Signature) or do you wing it each year?

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EmmaK December 15, 2010 at 4:12 am

I always give Belgian truffles. Every teacher likes chocolates surely? And if they don't then they can hand them back to me and I'll polish em off in no time!

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In Real Life December 15, 2010 at 1:19 am

I love the idea of a Signature gift! Every year, I drive myself crazy trying to think up a nice and thoughtful gift for my children's teachers.

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Glen December 15, 2010 at 12:12 am

alcohol – absolutely – miniatures are fine as long as it's strong!

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Fiona December 14, 2010 at 9:34 pm

As the speechie, I sometimes get gifts of chocolate. Which would be nice if I could eat the stuff.

It just gets palmed off to coworkers.

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MultipleMum December 14, 2010 at 8:13 pm

Thankfully one of the Mums organised a 'group' gift from our class this year. This only required me to cough up some cash. I did this dutifully. But now you have me thinking about the swimming teachers and the daycare teachers…

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Glowless December 14, 2010 at 7:59 pm

I remember wanting to give teacher gifts and my parents being quite tight assed about it all and let me give them a card… It'll be a few more years til I need a Signature Gift but I hope it's Christmas Cookies with a little hidden note that says "don't worry, I made this batch not the kids".

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Naomi December 14, 2010 at 6:28 pm

It had never crossed my mind to give swimming teachers etc gifts… and I am a teacher! Clearly I suck.
I have given a range of gifts depending on the teacher, and now my children like to help pick too.
I must say as someone with sensitive skin, the ranges of soaps, body lotions etc are a tad wasted on me… but hand cream, good hand cream, especially for early childhood teachers who wash their hands a gazillion times a day is always much needed and appreciated.
Wine (for me) is the clear winner though… or vodka… mu Hubby and kids love the chocolates too.

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Ms Styling You December 14, 2010 at 4:09 pm

I SO need a signature gift. My big kids are through primary school so no gifts for teachers required. My youngest starts school next year, time enough to create a signature. Given that I socialise with the teacher he's been assigned, have a feeling that signature will be Vino!

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Maxabella December 14, 2010 at 2:45 pm

You can't go wrong with a special notebook and… it must be genetic… I give a sweet Chrissy ornament along with the notebook. Bizarre. I make my ornament… but don't worry about that. x

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Jacki December 14, 2010 at 2:04 pm

We gave our swimming teacher some body wash and matching lotion. I figure she'll need it after hours in the chlorine. I have to say, when I was teaching, chocolate was always well received!

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Bronnie and family December 14, 2010 at 1:37 pm

Ah the teacher gift. Our kids have several teachers who all must be bought presents. Sigh.
Having said that I find alcohol or good quality chocolate is always appreciated (most of the teachers appear to drink alcohol and/or eat chocolates, funnily enough.) If the parents and kids really LOVE the teacher, we club together and buy a massage voucher or similar. Loving the Snow Lady look.

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Ofthesea December 14, 2010 at 1:34 pm

I love your signature notebooks – but that's probably because I ADORE notebooks.

When the day comes, I think I'll give candles. I've always found them the safest present – if they like them, they burn them; if they hate them.. they burn them!

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life in a pink fibro December 14, 2010 at 1:27 pm

PS: I look awesome with a carrot nose. Matches my hair.

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life in a pink fibro December 14, 2010 at 1:26 pm

Update: Mr3 announced yesterday that he wanted to give his teachers presents too. So more notebooks and Christmas decs duly purchased. All given out today to great acclaim – teachers are loving my Signature Gift.

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Lucy December 14, 2010 at 11:44 am

I think I mentioned this in an earlier comment to Bern – I have a stash of Miss Jones The Teacher Beanie Kid ber thingos – so each primary school teacher gets one of those and a bottle of plonk…I too am aiming for a signature. By the end of 8 years and three kids, the damn beanie kids will be breeding, I reckon.

But I don't bother with any other teachers….is that slack?

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Phil & Bern December 14, 2010 at 1:44 pm

This is my favourite line "She patiently watches me stuff up my chords each week. She deserves a notebook"

I think mine will now be alcohol but I remember in year 2 when Brent Thompson presented our teacher with a ceramic browneye.

No joke, his mother, when making your own ceramics were all the rage, decided a big bum, with the jeans down around the ankles about to sit on a toilet (they were a family of plumbers) was a GREAT gift. The thing is, I remember, even being that young, that the teachers freaking loved it. Or were just wondering WTF was going on. Hard to tell.

Thanks Lori & Alison xx

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Absolutely, Confrontatingly Gorgeous – RRSAHM

Absolutely, Confrontatingly Gorgeous

by Lori Dwyer on January 21, 2013 · 21 comments

‘The world is like a ride in an amusement park, and when you choose to go on it you think it’s real because that’s how powerful our minds are. The ride goes up and down, around and around, it has thrills and chills, and it’s very brightly colored, and it’s very loud, and it’s fun for a while. Many people have been on the ride a long time, and they begin to wonder, “Hey, is this real, or is this just a ride?”

“…I’ve got a lot invested in this ride, shut… up! Look at my furrows of worry, look at my big bank account, and my family. This has to be real.”…It’s just a ride.’
Bill Hicks

***

I feel as though I’m pouring out of myself. As though the dams on some fermented, stagnant fjord of solvable karma have slid down to a gushing release of swollen, pent up misfortune.

What remains is a cool, calm, bubbling deep blue teal; a tranquil bath for the soul.

I continue to shed hang ups and snags at a rate that amazes me, layers of myself peeling and papering away, catching and tumbling in the almost autumn breeze that’s rushing past.

I lose a cat, and the Universe decides that’s a mistake and sends it back, then changes it’s mind again and takes the other cat instead♦. The backdrop of my writing salvation becomes unrecognizable♦. I stealthily siphon off a car my husband bought♦, a lounge he once slept on… a person he thought he knew. (you didn’t know me, that not much, not at all… you couldn’t possibly have, because I didn’t even know me, then, so how on earth could’ve you?)

And the world around me, it clangs again. Coincidences that are far too big to be simple coincidence hit and split in the air like atoms, spreading the dust of their consequences around and leaving illuminated trails to ensure me that something bigger is happening here, something is working even more silently than I am behind a huge drop of scenery that looks just like a real world should. Names and dates and songs and images intersect and intertwine, obscure references finding companions in conversations and happenstancials that occur within the tightest of timeframes, creating fluorescent gunpowder sparks of tiny awe into the everyday-ness of common existence. They feel like signs, a mystical illumination of stepping stones set in a Grimm’s fairytale– but this time the breadcrumbs are leading out of the dark impending doom of a thick Black Forest. Not into it.

And I’m beginning to believe in fairy tales again, maybe. Perhaps not the Grimm Brothers variety, this time around.

This time around, I’d prefer the Disney version. Please.

***

I find someone, just when I thought no one like him existed.

He takes me as I am, and I don’t scare him even when I try, when I push him with knowledge I thought he already knew. I tell him “I am broken”, waiting for what I thought was the perfect answer (“I will fix you…”), and instead he looks at me in genuine disbelieving amazement and says “No, you’re not.”

And for the first time in a long time– since before the sky fell in, probably since before post natal depression sucked the color from the world– that feels true. The world opens up again. There are the sweetest melodies exist in the air I fill, and some kind of light shines from within me when I’m with him, arms and legs intertwined, skin flush as though we we’re melting into one another. I think it’s the phosphorescent essence of feeling beautiful, feeling amazing… feeling worth something, to someone, as more than just the sum of the parts that make me.

We exist in a bubble, reality suspended a thousand kilometers away, caught still on spiderwebs of the heaviest silk. I sleep and laugh and drown in his embrace. We watch movies and tell stupid jokes. He makes me breakfast, takes me places, shows me things he thinks I will like and every one of them speaks to my soul. He greets me with the best hug I’ve ever had and a bunch of bright sunflowers– happy flowers, not funeral flowers, and I fall in love with him even more.

I won’t insult the intelligence of my fellow social media junkies by pretending his name is any kind of secret. But, given everyone except myself gets a pseudonym on my blog, it seems patently unfair not to let this new man have an alias, too. For now, I think we’ll just call him ‘The Most Amazing Man In The Universe’.

Because really, that name suits him. More than anything else I can think of.

***

On a totally different but weirdly related note; there is bitching and bad karma going on. Because this is the Internet, and sometimes that what happens here.

Amongst all the snarkiness was the opinion that reading RRSAHM feels like looking at me naked. I’m assuming it was meant as an insult. (Or maybe a ‘concern’. As seems to be the more PC term for it. Of course.)

I can only say that that is, possibly, the most awesome freaking compliment I’ve ever been given. Because in all my naked, honest reality… aren’t I just absolutely, confrontatingly gorgeous?

***

♦Due to– well, to be honest, mainly to that bubble I’ve been existing in, but we can call it extenuating circumstance– this place has been sadly neglected. Explanations for all these events and more, later this week. (Really.)

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{ 20 comments… read them below or add one }

Andrea October 7, 2013 at 1:46 pm

So, in German we say ‘nukkedeye’(phonetic spelling) for little naked ones, or ‘nudey rudey’ as you probably know it. Little nudey rudeys run around joyously and don’t give a shit. Not a bad idea really! :) glad to hear your wonderful news. Belated reading it- I’ve been reading your posts back

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Suzy Mac July 17, 2013 at 8:34 pm

I’m trawling through your archives and found this absolute poetry…Awesome girl (am grinning for you like I didn’t know I was capable of today)
Suzy Mac recently posted…I’m a TurnupstufferMy Profile

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Lori Dwyer July 18, 2013 at 5:05 pm

Thanks so much Suzy :) x
Lori Dwyer recently posted…The New Wiggles.My Profile

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Madmother July 9, 2013 at 5:22 pm

Hey my darlin’! Long time no connect. My bad – the world of blogging has fallen from my life this year or more and just by some strange universal karma your latest post showed on my FB! And hence link jumping I come back to here.

Can I tell you my heart sings for you? And that the kids WILL adapt and be happy, especially as you are happy.

And just tell him, if by some rare chance he hurts you badly (for all the little hurts we do each other are merely living), warn him he will have to deal with a Madmother. You may want to explain exactly how daunting that is too. xx

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Lori Dwyer July 10, 2013 at 10:41 am

Madmother!! Lovely to ‘see’ you :)
I will warn him… scary stuff :p

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MultipleMum February 9, 2013 at 8:49 pm

Ah Lori. I haven’t been around for a while. So, so, SO happy to read this. You deserve every happiness. Smooch x

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Lori Dwyer February 12, 2013 at 8:06 pm

Thanks so much MM :) xx

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Miss Pink January 30, 2013 at 5:46 pm

Oh how I love this. Really truely love this. Even if I sting a little reading this. That person who comes along and makes you not have hope that fairytales exist, but feel like they exist because surely you’re living one?
I just hope your ending is the disney kind. You really truely deserve it my love. I love you to the moon and back and your happiness means the world to me. Keep me in the loop ok? And truely lets catch up and talk shit soon ok?

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Lori Dwyer January 30, 2013 at 7:52 pm

Thanks Pinky. Just out of curiosity… can I ask what “Even if I sting a little reading this” means? I’m more than 98% sure I know, but wanted to know if you wanted to elaborate. IYKWIM :p xxx

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Miss Pink February 4, 2013 at 3:38 pm

Long long story best said over some Maccas?
Just that love, and longing for that addictive eat you all up kind of love hurts. Sure there’s something to be said for that comfort, but it’s not that all consuming whisk you off your feet want to know everything about a person love. It’s just…steady, predictable, comfort.

Have you moved to wordpress?

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Lori Dwyer February 6, 2013 at 12:23 pm

Indeed I have, Pinky. That’s also a very long story to be be done *soon* over Macca’s. I’m not sure WP is all it’s cracked up to be… ;) xx

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Miss Pink February 6, 2013 at 12:52 pm

Dude, our small world got smaller over Christmas for me. I’ve got to stop being so surpirsed at how many people know you, or well Tony.
I still want to hear all about The Most Amazing Man In The Universe. So bummed I am missing DPCON.

It doesn’t *look* too much different. Only the comment box threw me. Of course this was before you changed your header and layout ;P

Brad (Griff) January 29, 2013 at 2:53 am

…oh, and some tears. Feels pretty freaking good hey Lori :)

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Lori Dwyer January 30, 2013 at 7:53 pm

Indeed, it does :)

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Brad (Griff) January 29, 2013 at 2:52 am

Big smiles :) :)

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nightwolf January 22, 2013 at 11:23 am

doing a little happy dance here for you. I’m so glad u met most amazing man in the universe. It’s been awesome to see you so happy recently and when we finally see each other again I’ll give u big squishy hugs.
And yes, I’d take that comment about your blog as a massive compliment. You are brave and gorgeous and take that and run!
Look forward to continuing to read your blog for many years to come ;)

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s_lynn4 January 22, 2013 at 12:34 am

I have not been living in the world of blogs for very long, but have recently found the time to sit and read some powerful words from bloggers from all walks of life, and I am impressed beyond my wildest dreams. With every post I read, I learn something new, either about them or me. As I read this post I was taken away to a beautiful world of hope, imagination, joy and poetry and then you described it as nakedness and it could not have been more appropriate! LOVE your posts that I have read (the old and the new) and will look forward to joining you on your journey into your future xo Sandra xo

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Tegan.C January 21, 2013 at 10:05 pm

I hope you get your Disney fairy tale.
Your rawness is what keeps bringing me back. Your ability to tell it like it is, sets you apart. Not everyone is going to like it, but then again why have ‘everyone’ when you can have the ones that enjoy you for you.

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Bina January 21, 2013 at 6:34 pm

Reading RRSAHM is like looking at you naked? You should damn well take that as an awesome compliment. It takes guts to bare your soul and let anyone and everyone see your innermost REAL self. You’re a brave lady Lori. So happy you found your Most Amazing Man In The Universe. Cheers!

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Sharon @ Funken Wagnel January 21, 2013 at 3:25 pm

I think this is a brilliant turn of events! So happy to see you happy. And yes, you are fairly naked on here, but let’s face it; everyone has different abilities to cope with/tolerance to nudity:P Can’t please everyone.

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