Monthly Archives: May 2016

Stupid Things Lori Does

The Pursuit of Happyness.

by Lori Dwyer on March 14, 2013 · 17 comments

“It’s not H-A-P-P-Y-N-E-S-S Happiness is spelled with an ‘I’ instead of a ‘Y‘”
“Oh, okay. Is ‘Fuck‘ spelled right?”
“Um, yes. ‘Fuck’ is spelled right but you shouldn’t use that word.”
The Pursuit of Happyness, 2006.

***

I think everyone comes to a point, every now and then, when they realise that the road they’ve been walking is actually a treadmill. You’ve been putting in a stack of effort and it feels okay for a while. Until you’re exhausted and burnt out and you discover that, for all that effort, you’ve been going nowhere. And you’ve been staring at the same freaking wall for the last two hours.

I’ve begun to feel that way myself, lately, and I think it shows here, on my blog– the space where I am Lori, infused and decanted and dripped pure. The place that’s always been a public, viewable salvation.

Lately, it doesn’t feel that way. Lately, I’ve felt more like a money–grinding corporate whore than anything else.

I think it’s been bothering me for a while now, eating at the corners of my conscious, attempting to peak my attention without scaring the sh*t out of me. That feeling of restlessness and boredom always comes from somewhere deeper. I’m almost sure it began when the offers of sponsored posts and reviews and giveaways started gushing into my inbox in tidal waves, and I began blindly saying yes without thinking at all what I was doing. Accepting sponsored posts for far less than what they are worth, given that you lot– the people who essentially support my writing– are the ones that have to suffer through reading them, when I don’t even like writing them.

And lately I haven’t liked writing them. It’s gone from being a challenge– “How do I take this product that I genuinely like and make it interesting for people to read?”; to a soul–sucking chore– “don’t think, just write”.

What bullsh*t. How freaking rude to the people who read this blog. How f*cking undignified. I’m too afraid to open my email inbox for the horrible feeling of being a coward, too nice and too afraid to just say ’no’. I have words dancing the back of my mind, joyful pas de deux that become sad pirouettes as I ignore them, day after day, spending my time either worrying or procrastinating or writing like a robot, programmed by myself.

It came to a point a week or so ago, as things usually do– all those tiny thoughts nibbling in the shallows of mind created at the centre, providing an apex of reason from whence to see what was really going on here.

I found myself writing posts for products I would not necessarily endorse. And the worst part was, it wasn’t a decision I consciously made. I just said ’yes’ to the money, without thinking about it. Would I generally endorse one–use plastic products for kids lunches? No. Would I generally endorse a fruit purée in favor of half a piece of fruit? Well… maybe. I’d certainly buy it. But I’m not sure I felt right about telling other people to buy it, too.

It was only on the eve of publishing those posts, while writing them, that it hit me– this was not cool. How could I have not thought of this earlier?

Auto–pilot will get you everywhere. But it may also get you crashed into the side of a f*cking mountain if you don’t sometimes look where you’re going.

At around the same time I (finally) had that epiphany, I was smacked in the face with another one. Because, as we know, the Universe likes to poke me. With sticks and other blunt objects.

I’ve often raved on about blog events, how awesome they are and how much I love them. So much so that I think I may have, again, let the status quo dictate all my further actions, without stopping to ask myself the question of ’What the actual f*ck are you doing here, Lori?’. Is it really necessary to go to these things? What could your time be better spent doing…?

I attended two events in two days a few weeks ago, both in the Sydney CBD. With the M5 freeway being the veritable carpark that it is, I spent a total of seven hours sitting in a car. Not my car, which I was thankful for at the time– taxis and town cars, provided by the big corporations who had invited me in for a media launch and ‘discussion over lunch’ respectively.

The media launch went for a whole hour. The ‘discussion’, where we’d been asked to along to ‘share tips to make life easier for parents’ involved two hours of us being talked to about how awesome a relatively new software product with an awful reputation is. Admittedly, I left that event early. But I’m still not convinced there would have been any actual ‘discussion’ involved.

The total transport cost, to have me in the city for three hours over two days? $900.

The cab drivers were thrilled. I felt a bit… sick. A bit dirty. You could feed entire families on that for a month, if you went to where it was needed.

I can hear the obvious counter–rationale to this one– if not me, someone else will fill my spot. The money will undoubtedly be spent elsewhere. I’m fairly sure that’s okay with me. I’m certainly not saying I’m never going to another event– some of them are not only entirely interesting, but downright enjoyable. It’s just that the whole episode suddenly changed those lenses on the world, on the way I see myself.

It’s fairly well known amongst my fellow bloggers that I exist in somewhat of a social bubble. It’s quite common for me hear things like “GOMI is talking crap about us” or “Woogs had dinner with the PM” and respond with “What? Really? Wow! When?!” So it was kind of timely to discover that I’m not the only who feels that way… it seems the shine is rubbing off what may turn out to be bullsh*t for a lot of us (and I think this is the point where I confess I have a massive girl–crush on Eden and she may just be the coolest person I have ever met. I also know I’m certainly not alone in this).

So… that’s that. I’m sick of writing blog posts about stuff I don’t really care about, and letting the writing I want to do slide into the background. It may mean I’ll be a bit harder up for cash… Or it may mean I’ll just have to get a bit more creative making it. I’m no longer attending every event just because I’ve been invited and I don’t want to miss out, especially if I’m well aware that there is no way on this earth that I’m going to be writing about it. I’m going to stop doing giveaways just for the sake of it, unless its something really, really awesome.

And I’m going to spend more time being happy– more time doing what makes me happy, I’m going to write what I want to write. I’m going to harness that ‘all bets are off’ attitude that’s surprisingly easy to come by these days. I’m going to spend more time doing yoga, more time playing with herbs and creams. More time exploring. More time in my sadly neglected garden.

And in reality, laced with the best of intentions as those ideals are– I may do none of those things. But I won’t be a slave to myself any more, either, and that’s the aim of the game here. The happiness, I’m sure, will follow.

{ 17 comments }

I’m Afraid Of Aeroplanes. #BloggersToBorneo

by Lori Dwyer on March 4, 2013 · 4 comments

”I’m afraid of aeroplanes,
Even though I like the way
It feels to be a person in the sky…”
A320 Foo Fighters

***

I don’t like to fly.

We know this, I know– we’ve discussed it before. It’s something I’ve been working on, and a fear I think I’m in control of.

But I still pray every single freaking time I get on a plane. Actually, prayer never seems to quite be enough– during turbulence I often wish I was Catholic, so I knew how to say a Hail Mary or something else appropriate, without stuffing it up and acting like a blasphemous idiot.

Religion aside, it seems I’ll soon be spending an as-yet-undetermined length of time on a plane in just a few months time, winging it all the way to Borneo. And back. Cross country trips to Melbourne are one thing. International flights are totally something else.

In an attempt to lessen my own anxiety, I’ve made a slightly obsessive habit of researching aeroplanes and aeroplane safety. Some of the stuff I’ve discovered is fascinating.

And a lot of it is just damn… terrifying. In fact, it’s gotten to the point where I question the sanity behind my own thinking that ‘knowledge is power’, and the more I knew the less afraid I’d be.

But, perversely, that theory has actually worked. A least if the plane does come down in the ocean, or come down in a field, or catch fire in the middle of the tarmac… I’ll be prepared.

Kind of.

Whatever. Anyway– I figured, in the spirit of sharing, I’d fill you all in on what I’ve learned. The comforting, the terrifying, and the urban mythologies.

The brace position is not designed to snap your neck. Rumour has it, a la the movie Fight Club, that the brace position is designed to effectively snap your neck on impact, thereby killing you quickly. So as not to leave a planeload of horribly injured moaning passengers wandering around the crash site. Because really, that would be a PR disaster.

That one’s not true. But there is a very correct way to ‘brace’. If you look closely at the (remarkably un-detailed) infographic on your aeroplane safety card, you’ll see either both hands tucked under the poor doomed passenger’s legs, or one hand placed over the other on the poor doomed passenger’s head. Left hand over right hand, if you’re right-handed, or vice-versa. Why…? Because if all that luggage contained in the overhead compartments does come piling down on top of you, you’ll want at least one set of unbroken fingers with which to unbuckle your seatbelt.

The brace position Actually not designed to kill you.

Speaking of seatbelts– they’re stupid. It’s apparently extremely common for passengers who have to ditch the plane to lose valuable seconds attempting to unclipping their seatbelt from the side. Logically. The way you would do in a car. Because your body just does that in times of extreme shock– muscle memory takes over. Best practice says to buckle and unbuckle your seatbelt a few times in order to give your muscles a better chance of retaining that information in an emergency situation… I’m not entirely sure it would help.

And speaking of shock…. A few years back, you may remember a commercial lane ditching into the Hudson River. Only a small percentage of passengers even remembered to grab their life jackets from under their seats. Because your brain is just awesome like that.

No… life… jackets. Really. Ditchin’.

“Please keep your window blinds open..” this directive has never really helped with that whole fear-of-flying thing. ‘For pity’s sake… why?!’ my internal-sensible-entity-who-likes-to-keep-her-feet-on-the-ground asks. Well– if you’re sure you want to know– it’s so you can tell them if something untoward happens. Like a wing catching on fire.

“Lights will be dimmed during take and off landing…” Annnnnnd this one always baffled me, too. Of course, there’s another morbidly curious explanation. It’s so your eyes adjust to the potential darkness of the tarmac at night. Or the fug of a smoke filled cabin. Dilated pupils are all the better to evacuate you with.

The morbidly curious question… do the oxygen masks really get you high? Well… ‘hem. Funny you ask. Oxygen masks are a necessity if the cabin suddenly depressurizes. But, having sucked on pure oxygen before, I can personally validate the theory that ‘pure oxygen calms you down and promotes a sense of peace and well being’. Logically (again with the logic, I’m even impressing myself here) oxygen should produce the totally opposite effect to the ‘panic and fear’ chemicals our bodies produce given the slightest whiff of carbon monoxide. Authorities strenuously deny that oxygen masks on planes are there to make you forget that your plane is currently plummeting toward the ground, a la Fight Club…. I am not so sure.

Bare feet get burnt. Potentially. If you have your shoes off when jump from the big bouncy slide onto the tarmac, you may find your socks covered in burning jet fuel. Unpleasant. So the ‘shoes on’ warnings are more for reality than anal–retentiveness.

You are your Captain’s personal responsibility. And, so the theory goes, therein lies the reason he introduces himself to you at the beginning of the flight. Because now, he ‘knows’ you, and psychologically, feels more responsibility for your life. And perhaps that means he (or she) will be less inclined to have a lapse of concentration at a vital moment.

“Please listen carefully to the safety warnings, even if you fly often…” As if you have a choice- you may have noticed that no matter how much you try to tune out the “exits are here, here and here…” spiel… you can’t. It’s not your fault. Listen carefully to the air steward giving your safety speech next time you take off. You’ll notice that every sentence they say ends with a…. downward….. inflection… of… tone. People don’t usually talk like this– the unfamiliar rhythm forces your mind to pay attention, even if you actually can repeat the entire speech word for word.

***

Uhhhhh. Well. I do hope we all enjoyed that. In order to send me on a great big tin can that logic tells me shouldn’t actually be able to fly, you should throw your spare change my way and donate to the BloggersToBorneo appeal.

Because for some insane reason, even after writing this post… I still really, really want to go.

{ 4 comments }

Lori Gets A Nose Job.

by Lori Dwyer on February 26, 2013 · 6 comments

Sometimes, for o other reason than the opportunity presenting itself, I do ridiculous things. Like having my nostrils waxed in a very pubic place, filming it and putting it on YouTube. Enjoy.

{ 6 comments }

Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Fuck You Too.

Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Post It Notes To Pimp My GiveAway

The Brickworks. – RRSAHM

The Brickworks.

by Lori Dwyer on November 21, 2013 · 11 comments

I find myself searching for… something. Something to make me feel connected to this new place I’m in. Something to make Melbourne feel like mine.

So I do what I always do, when I’m seeking a connection, a way to feel the spark of other people’s lives.

I go exploring.

Melbourne takes much better care of its abandoned buildings than Sydney does. Truly deserted structures are difficult to find here, and I haven’t seen enough of the suburbs to know where they are. Internet searches are lousy for that kind of thing- after all, revealing your locations publicly breaks the rules.

But the Brickworks stand out. A bit of online digging, and the address is easy enough to find.

It’s a half hour drive away, which is a short car trip by Sydney standards, an epic adventure for Melbournians spoiled by their unclogged roads and ample public transport. I sneak to the the Brickworks and back between school drop-off and pickup. It pleases me, this secret life I have sometimes. Stepping out of reality, doing things my children have no idea of and may not understand.

Like the Maltings, and other premises that are stalwarts for urban exploration, the Brickworks is easy to access. You just need to know what you’re looking for. The fence on one side is surrounded by homes, well tended and well kept. There will be no point of entry here.

The other side of the fence, however… look hard enough, and you find it. The mesh fencing bent up and over, leaving a hole big enough to squeeze through.

The parklands that surround the Brickworks are dotted with people who are out for the day. When trespassing, it’s best to act as though you have every right in the world to be there. My camera bag is slung over my shoulder, and I have my usual bullsh*t excuse ready. “I am a photographer, documenting this place…”

Not that anyone has ever asked. I like to think that it’s because I radiate self confidence. More likely, it’s because no one cares.

The Brickworks is, as the name suggests, a factory where bricks were made. It’s been closed for years, so long now that any evidence of it’s former functionality is gone. What remains is the evidence of people who have come here after its closure. Graffiti kits, empty spray paint cans. Litter. And a coating of fine, chalky brick dust, a few inches thick in some of the more undisturbed places.

Within minutes, my shoes and pants are covered in it. I’m dusty up to the knees of my flared jeans.

This is a gritty, grungy, post-apocalyptic scene of a place. The bright colours of the street art clash and spangle against rusted iron and rotted wood.

The machinery that has been left here is old and huge. Too cumbersome to have been moved on, probably useless for relocation And it’s all so set in itself– to remove the giant urns would be to defile the structure of the place completely, to risk having it all fall down on top of you. I can see why this abandoned site remains so, when the rest of Melbourne’s urban ruins have been cleaned up and cleared out. Just bulldozing it would be impossible. Tonnes of hulking steel equipment would be tedious to rip out. So it stays, looking more and more like iron oxide modern artwork with each passing year.

I pick around the place, wandering, marveling at the solidity of the equipment. One half of the building is open and cavernous, no more than undercover storage. A forklift is parked neatly by one of the poles toward the edge of the huge room. It seems put of place– too modern, perhaps, for somewhere that feels so antiquated. Not as rust eaten and grubby as its surrounds.

The forklift is tagged in jagged graffiti, a mish-mash of colours and styles. The surface of the forklift is too small for anything rampantly artistic, but the brick walls dividing the building into rooms and sections make the perfect canvases for spray painted art. Colourful cartoon creatures and shiny, six foot high typography cover the brick work.

Brickworks4

I wander around, feeling the emptiness of the space, the way it’s hardly a building at all any more. It feels organic, settled in to its environment. Nature is beginning to spread itself within the building. Weeds take root in the base of the corroding steel. Grass grows where the sunshine allows it to.

Walking out of the main building, there’s a second structure. It’s large and circular and squat. The massive chimney soars skyward from the roof. There’s a strange flared skirt of corrugated iron covering the bottom of the building, stretching six foot up the meet the walls. It appears impenetrable. Despite all the people who have been here, left their rubbish and their tags and their spray paint cans, no one has peeled back the skirt and attempted the access the space underneath.

Two smaller outbuilding flank the main one, both of them damaged and spray painted. Door frames and windows smashed, floors are burnt out. The artwork is amazing. But there’s nothing to be felt here. It lacks the romance of the Maltings, the sense that lives have been lived here, the essence of souls left behind.

I leave, my feet padding softly through the brick dust. I find the hole in the fence that I first came through and slip back into reality, settle myself back amongst the people in the park.

I get back in my car. As I close the door, it begins to rain.

Whatever I was looking for, I didn’t find it.

More photos on Flickr.

Tagged as: Urban Decay, Urban Exploring

Leave a Comment

{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }

jeanie November 23, 2013 at 9:38 pm

We have an abandoned brickworks up here also… Not nearly so poignant or artistic as yours.

It is very hard to settle in a new place and find your space within it. I truly feel for you – I have been here for 7 years and am still just finding my feet (and having them knocked out from under me from time to time). Good luck.
jeanie recently posted…Food Bleurghing

Lori Dwyer November 24, 2013 at 5:36 pm: Thanks Jeanie. I didn’t realize how hard it would be. Three months in… it’s getting better. x

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Karen C November 23, 2013 at 11:06 am

Well, hello Lori. When you were finished exploring you could have dropped in with me for a cuppa and a chat as those brickworks are my backyard. My kids unkindly call it the “hobo hotel”. You must explore the cemetery one day and check out the history of the suburb. We might be in suburbia but we can still be interesting. Hope you are finding ‘home’ in Melb.
Karen C

Lori Dwyer November 24, 2013 at 5:37 pm: Hey Karen! I probably drove past your house on my recon mission- I got the entrance at the end of the street before going through the park! I can’t wait to check out the cemetaries in Melbs- there’s so many of them, and they’re all so huge!

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Helen K November 23, 2013 at 12:28 am

Looks like the old Hoffman brickworks in Brunswick, maybe? For a bit more live but still beautiful setting, try visiting the Abbotsford convert – of in fact, wandering along the Yarra River upstream from about Abbotsford – can be quite fascinating, but still peaceful. Good luck!

Lori Dwyer November 24, 2013 at 5:39 pm

Hey Helen- close, but not quite! Now that you’ve mentioned it, though, I will have to check out the Hoffman brickworks in Brunswick. And Abbotsford! x

Helen K November 25, 2013 at 10:16 pm: Hope you enjoy them (and enjoy the sunshine – I think we might have a little more this week, hopefully!) And I’m glad you could read the post (so many typing mistakes when I use the iPad, sorry)

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Suzy Mac November 22, 2013 at 10:48 pm

So beautifully written & photographed, there is an arty book in there somewhere :0)
Suzy Mac recently posted…Christmas Rush Part 2: Pass the Antibiotics

Lori Dwyer November 24, 2013 at 5:39 pm: Thanks Suzy! x

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Take Shape Fitness November 21, 2013 at 2:22 pm

Looks like a cool place to explore. We have nothing like that in Perth
Take Shape Fitness recently posted…New Years Resolution – Paul’s Warehouse Giveaway

Lori Dwyer November 24, 2013 at 6:39 pm: It was very cool Perth is totally missing out!

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Previous post: Sunshine.

Next post: Self Loathing.

Random Ramblings of a SAHM: F*ck.

Random Ramblings of a SAHM: For Any Mother Who May Pass This Way (Nothing funny about this post, folks)

Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Not OK.

Random Ramblings of a SAHM: So… now what?

The Recalcitrant FlyBaby – RRSAHM

The Recalcitrant FlyBaby

by Lori Dwyer on April 18, 2010 · 19 comments

Shiny sinks,

There is little doubt in my mind that a lot of you, being the Net loving chickies (and dudes) that you are, have heard of HRH The FlyLady.

Yep, I attacked her with MS Paint. Even made her windows dirty. Ha!!

No? Where have you been? She has her own website. I’m going to apologise for her here- for a self-adorned ‘Clutter Guru”, her website is an absolute atrocity. Not to mention garish, difficult to navigate and enough to give a serial link-clicker like myself heart palpitations. If you are actually trying to find your way to FLYing, I suggest the Beginner BabySteps. Go shine your sink!! Now!! (Yes, really.)

FlyLady is, for the uninitiated, a completely insane and mildly obsessive compulsive woman from somewhere in the US’s Deep South that has devised a whole system for keeping your house, car, kids and pets as spotlessly clean as possible. I kid you not.Right down to the tops of your door frames. Because, as any good pseudo 50′s housewife knows, your house just is not clean until your door frames pass the white glove test. If you follow FlyLady to the ~~feather~~ letter, she even guarentees your relationship is strong, your bills are paid, your boobies are un-lumpy and that you drink 2 liters of water a day.

Now me personally,I have a Heart/Hate relationship with the FlyLady. She is omnipresent, it seems, and follows me around wherever I click- she has infiltrated both my FaceBook and Twitter accounts. Annoying. Especially when she tells me to go to bed at 2pm (oh, yes, FlyBabies have a mandated bedtime, and it doesn’t run on EST.). I know, I should delete her. But my internal Martha Stewart just won’t let me.

Reasons I {Heart} The FlyLady

* She got me going when it was just all too hard. And I was trying to figure out the complexities of running a house with a small baby and actually having top shower, cook, and acknowledge my husband’s existence.(whaddya mean, it’s been two months?)

* She has drummed into my head her FLY-isms. Like “It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be done”. Bloody good advice.

* She actually stops me over obsessing. If it’s not finished, well, hell, it’s cleaner than it was when I started. Unless the Chop is helping..

* There is a system for cleaning your house. Hallelujah!! Who woulda thunk it? Even if I don’t do it, it’s nice to know it’s written down, and I can jump back in when I please. if I only I can find the notepad I wrote it in.

Reasons I {Hate} The FlyLady.

* Her website gives me a migraine.

*She sends out 20 emails a day. Not even joking.

* I just can’t imagine it. The idea of actually being that organised is somewhat disconcerting.

* I cannot for the life of me get the Bloody House Blessing done every week. And that makes me feel bad. I call the feeling ‘dust guilt’.

* She began to send me religious emails. I don’t mind religion, and I don’t mind house cleaning. But I don’t like to mix the two.

* She makes me paranoid. Every time I turn on my clothes dryer, a purple haired woman with wings pops out from my shiny sink and starts screeching “Fire in the dryer!! Fire in the dryer!!”.

* Her acronyms annoy me. And I’m normally big on acronyms (you may have picked that up). So I’ve renamed the SHE- from ‘Sidetracked House Executive’ to ‘Shitty Housework Expert’. And my house is no longer in a state of CHAOS(Can’t Have Anyone Over Syndrome)- I like to call it a state of COMA (Come Over Mine Anyway).

By posting this, I live in fear. Of the FlyLady. And her meeelions of little FlyBaby followers tracking me down and beating me to death with Rubber Scrubbers. Please don’t. I may just jump on the bandwagon again some day soon. Just as soon as this blogging addiction wears off. Because, right now, the computer rules. And if I did all my housework first I’d never get to blog. OK? OK.

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Leave a Comment

{ 19 comments… read them below or add one }

Lori @ RRSAHM November 20, 2010 at 11:06 am: I knew I'd be tracked down eventually!!

Hi Gladys. Thanks for your comment. Sorry it didn't appear straight away, Blogger sucked it into the spam folder.

To be honest, I'm not even sure what to say. This post is an old one, and was written very much tongue in cheek. As stated, there are reasons I do love the FlyLady,a nd although I no longer do the full FLY, i still incorporate alot of her ideas into my daily routine- like a swish and shine, and a load a day of washing. The house looks good. It's just that the tops of my doorframes are dusty!

Agreed, though, FL does have a huge heart, and she's helped a lot of people. I'm so glad she works for you

Thanks for visiting RRSAHM I do hope you come back.

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juststopspeaking November 20, 2010 at 10:59 am: You are SOOOOO busted !!

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Gladys Kanby November 20, 2010 at 6:40 am: First of all, you need to make a DAILY DIGEST email, that is if you even want to receive the emails. You don't HAVE to, you know. The other thing is, you don't have to go to her website AT ALL. You can go to her Facebook page, and in the Notes, there is a "Daily Flight Plan" which has all the missions in it, and no testimonials. Now as far as the "religious" emails, she warns you ahead of time before she says something "spiritual in nature" so you don't have to go on reading that part if it doesn't appeal to you. As far as her website is concerned (www.flylady.net), I think it's great. I can find anything I need to. The left-hand column has everything organized. I figure a person will either like her or they won't, but she has helped me and millions others that were not "Born Organized." Her system works if you follow it. She also says, NUMEROUS times, to adapt her system to suit your family. You don't have to go to bed at any hour that does not suit you. She makes everything as generic as possible to reach a broad audience (with the one common factor being that everyone is there to get advice on how to maintain a home and still have time to live life). Once you're "FLYing" you can spend 2 hours MAX on your house per day, you don't have to spend all day cleaning. She DOES NOT advise anyone to do that because that causes burnout and resentment (for yourself because you're the one who "did it all" and for your family because you were too busy working on your house than spending time with them).

Before you speak FOR Flylady, why don't you let others investigate for themselves so they don't have an inaccurate impression of her?

PS. I do have a sense of humor and I did find your blog a little bit funny I'll admit, but I also don't like the idea of people being turned off of Flylady simply because it did not work for you. Or maybe you didn't give it enough of a chance, I don't know. Or perhaps it didn't work for you at that particular time in your life, but it could work now. I have breastfed two babies, I totally get you on that level. When you're exhausted and feel gross from not showering as often as you'd like, you don't exactly feel like cleaning. You feel like showering and sleeping. lol

Good luck with your home. I respect your opinion. For all the people reading your blog, please do your research and make your own opinions.

Not only is there FlyLady.net, she is on BigTent, Facebook, apparently Twitter. You use whatever platform(s) she has that work for you. You don't need them all. If emails are inconvenient, don't sign up for them (BTW You can get them sent in a DIGEST, you don't have to get 20.) Flylady has a very BIG heart and just wants to help people who are struggling with maintaining their home AND have the desire to live in a clean and uncluttered home, yet lack the know-how to put together a system and stick with it.

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Maria April 21, 2010 at 12:46 pm: Oh you make me laugh! I checked out the site years ago when people were talking about her and quickly closed that puppy!

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lori April 21, 2010 at 1:27 am: Wow, how have I not heard of her? I'm not a neat freak by any means, but there's something very compelling about all those cleaning and organization tips that I'm going to have to go back and read. I really need to know how to clean the lint out of my dryer hose! Maybe her site sends out subliminal messages or something.

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***Amy*** April 20, 2010 at 6:52 pm: Hahaha! I love it! I'm the same, I delete all of her e-mails, but I just can't bring myself to unfollow them…it makes me too much of a bad parent/wife/woman

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Draft Queen April 20, 2010 at 10:35 am: I discovered the FlyLady when I was pregnant with my youngest.

I have to say the shining of the sink gives me crazy happy feelings. I LOVE a shiny sink now.

The rest made me insane.

Like the emails? I used to think "Lady, if you had a job that had you at work until 2am, you were breastfeeding an infant who insisted that happen EVERY 2 hours when you weren't at that job, you'd realize I don't have the time or energy just to DELETE THE FREAKING EMAILS you send."

Then I got a new email addy.

I cannot clean with shoes on in the house. I can't.

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Zoey @ Good Goog April 19, 2010 at 12:54 pm: I unfollowed her on twitter for exactly this reason. And I don't get how her website is somehow excluded from the whole decluttering thing. That being said, I did do the babysteps thing. I changed it up a bit to suit me. No matter what I'm not wearing shoes in the house or going to bed before 11pm. Non negotiable. But it has helped me develop a workable routine. Which is good for me because I tend to live in either a complete state of mess or anally retentive tidyness. So a balance is a good thing.

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Thea April 19, 2010 at 11:12 am: OMG, that is hilarious!
I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about being that organized! LOL Thanks for the giggle.

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Nelle April 19, 2010 at 10:35 am: She's got some good stuff hey. Shiny sink, wearing shoes, 15 mins at a time. You're right, the website is atrocious though.

I'm pretty sure you can change the email settings so you get a 'daily digest' or maybe even a weekly one. Maybe go hunting on the site, and we'll call emergency services to go find you if we don't hear from you tomorrow.

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Brenda April 19, 2010 at 7:32 am: I had a look at her website before and tried her system for about 5 minutes and nope, couldn't hack it. I love my own system which is doing the least possible as long as possible.

What? At least I have a system. Heh.

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Amy xxoo April 19, 2010 at 7:13 am: I've never heard of her but you've made her sound soooo appealing….

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Julie April 19, 2010 at 4:47 pm: This comment has been removed by the author.

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Julie April 19, 2010 at 4:47 pm: Hilarious! I am actually a naturally organised person, and I still can't handle the flylady system. For one thing – I am not going to spend that much time cleaning, tidying etc. I don't get the random "necessities"about shiny sinks and lace-up shoes, and, yep, that website… shudder.

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Ratz April 19, 2010 at 4:31 am: YOu crack me up Lady

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kbxmas April 19, 2010 at 2:21 am: Ack. She needs a system for organizing her website. My head hurts just from looking at it for 4 seconds.

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Kakka April 18, 2010 at 10:29 pm: Thank you for the warning, not going near this blog ever. I love dust and dust bunnies, I mean my house is lived in not a show home. xxx

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Lucy April 18, 2010 at 10:05 pm: Ahhhh, you make me laugh.

Her Body Clutter Book…ummmm.
You may have inspired me to do a "review".

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Madmother April 19, 2010 at 7:16 am: Some houses try to hide the fact
That children shelter there.
Ours boasts of it quite openly,
The signs are every where.

For smears are on the windows,
Little smudges on the doors;
I should apologize I guess
For toys strewn on the floor.

But I sat down with the children
And we played and laughed and read,
And if the doorbell doesn't shine,
Their eyes will shine instead.

For when at times I'm forced to
Choose the one job or the other,
I want to be a housewife…
But first I'll be a mother.

I had this poem stuck up in my entryway for years. That woman needs help, seriously. Talk about anal…

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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: F*ck.

Heaven Scent – RRSAHM

Heaven Scent

by Lori Dwyer on November 7, 2011 · 16 comments

I adore my garden. It feeds my soul.

I know, most regular RRSAHM voyeurs are already aware of this. I seem to have written about gardening more and more, since deciding to put Plan B into action and move myself and the kids to Paradise.

But it’s a rediscovered joy, a pleasure I’m relearning. And the garden here in the TinyTrainHouse is so gorgeous.

It’s soothing, and calming, not even always to work and scrape gritty dirt underneath my fingernails, but simply to wander in the greenery; often, ashamedly, cigarette in hand… pausing to tease strand-like roots of newly shot weeds from my veggie patch. Breathing in the heaven scent of jasmine and lilies, eucalypt and climbing violets, clay soil soaked with fresh rain fall. Absorbing almost by osmosis the calm and open peacefulness, appreciating the supine thrum of the very slowest, steadiest rhythm ever known or felt- the growth of plants, the stretching of membranes and waters into leaves and buds.

The umbilical heartbeat of the Earth.

Plain and lovely daisies

In my garden, I find myself in state that’s rare and complicit for me… able to make plans for the future, grand as I wish, without being crippled by the anxiety of achieving them, of not being able to work fast enough, of not having enough hands to be as productive as I wish to be.

Anxiety bred of excitement, rather than apprehension steeped in worry and insecurity or dragging guilt. In my mind they are almost as common as one another.

White azaleas…

But in my backyard, in my little patch of land, I am able to harness the daydreams and structures my mind weaves and creeps on it’s own latticework into someday-maybe-oneday-projects, things that will get done in their own sweet time.

There are seedlings to sprout, corn and sweet basil to simmer spaghetti sauces. Leaves to be raked, sticks to be picked up. (“Put the stick down, Chop. We do not play with sticks”). Unruly new spring growth that needs to be cut back and untangled from an arbor that is reaching to tendril through my clothesline; pretty climbing vines dripping with purple flowers, the weight of which causes my old wooden fence to lean and lag and inch itself closer and closer to horizontal.

Lavender for Scarlette

I have plans for a pair of laying chooks; for climbing beans and snapdragons in a rainbow of colours. I also the proud owner of a tiny, oddly shaped front yard which, although quite pretty by any horticultural standard I kept in my Purple Life, seems barren and disorganised in comparison to the planned but overflowing lushness of my macarthur park backyard… and I have plans to fix that.

But all these dot points on my mental list of Things That Should Be Done are floating, unstructured pencil plans, worked within a rough time frame of ‘sometime soon’ and laced with only the tiniest urgency, driven by the anticipation of pleasure and satisfaction more than any driving need to prove myself, any desperate urge to keep busy.

Oriental lanterns…

It feels as if this garden is a lesson for me, a kinetic tutorial from the universe. That compliant, steady hum of the world, the lubdub of growing things… it is, quite literally, an impossibility to rush things, to hurry the earth along. I cannot force my flowers to fruit… I cannot make the sky cease raining on my freshly planted seeds, washing away my hard work.

But as long as there is soil there, no one can stop me sowing them all over again. It just may be a matter of waiting until the season is right… seedlings lingering curled in the dark, holding out for the sun to shine again.

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Leave a Comment

{ 16 comments… read them below or add one }

Karen November 8, 2011 at 4:52 am: I'm sorry my computer is doing weird deleting stuff …(has been for a while!)

I meant: We all need that, I lost mine but I think it might become painting….etc.

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Karen November 8, 2011 at 4:50 am: A balm to your heart…we all need that, but I think it might become painting. I enjoy it more and more and quiets my mind.

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Melissa November 7, 2011 at 10:39 pm: What a beautiful, beautiful post. Thanks for sharing your garden with us

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Kristen Doran November 8, 2011 at 6:43 am: I've only just begun to love my garden. And the lessons you can learn. One little gem it taught me a few weeks ago: to grow big and beautiful sometimes the pruning has to be very harsh. Love your ramblings. Thanks so much for being so open.

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Anonymous November 7, 2011 at 4:39 pm: You and your garden. This is the happiest you've sounded for a long time, Lori.
Peace at last. Almost.

PS Don't go hating on Paul. He may use a lot of words, but there is quite a bit of common sense in there. Or maybe only to'us oldies'?
Love to you,
Mrs. C

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Anonymous November 7, 2011 at 3:42 pm: It was my Gran, who taught me to love gardening. She had a huge compost heap, with lots of fat lizards and geckos, all feasting off the flies and insects around it, and I'd sit and watch them for hours. Her garden would herald the start of each new season with something new and lovely in bloom, that I grew to love it, in my times spent at her house. She took me to the bonsai society, and so I learned that craft, and she'd watch patiently, while I'd potter around, with my miniature trees.
Such peace, tranquility and soul food…..a garden. I still love it so much, and spend time there whenever I can.
Good on you, Lori, that you're taking time to charge your soul-batteries there.

– Mouse

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Kristen November 7, 2011 at 1:45 pm: So… leaving some Love is exactly what I'm doing. I love this post. I find myself crippled by fear sometimes. (I'm out to write about that this week) … and I don't garden – but you make me want to. To put my hands in the dirt and will the ground to take care of what I place there. *sigh* to find pleasure in the possibilities – not fear in the unknown. It is all about a new thought.

Thanks for the new thought.
Kristen

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Susan November 7, 2011 at 1:05 pm: I envy your garden starting to grow when here in Canada its all starting to sleep.

Keep at the planting, even with the rain some of the seeds you are sowing that seem to wash away will find a place to grow. Sometimes in wild unexpected places that you never expected

Hugs, Suzie

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Lydia La La November 7, 2011 at 11:50 am: Dear, dear Lori… I've often seen your blog name on other blogs I regularly read but today, I decided to click on SAHM.

I was a stay at home Mum and it was a pretty boring lifestyle for me so not attracted to the name.

Boy, was I so wrong in prejudging your blog! I came on line to check mail and my fave blogs…… an hour and many tears later, I am so…… hell, I can't even think of the words that describe how I feel about the horror that has engulfed you and his family. Nothing I have ever experienced comes any where close to the shit that has been handed out to you. I have learnt through your blog, and I haven't read all of it yet: that nothing is sacred. Look in the shed, in their private drawers, check their phone out, their computer use, etc. No need to let anyone know but it will keep us in their loop… maybe. By the way, I don't practice what I just preached!!!
I would imagine that the legal, financial and family matters are an ongoing issue.
If only some beautiful person could come in every day and say" You have 1 hour! GO… Sleep or shop or whatever you want. I'm minding the kids." Any way, may there be peace within your soul.

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Something Gorgeous November 7, 2011 at 11:45 am: I have only just discovered your blog and loved reading about your gorgeous garden.
We are now your newest followers Pop over to our blog if you have time, you will be very welcome.x

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Lynda Halliger-Otvos November 7, 2011 at 11:40 am: Serenity, beauty, calm, peaceful, green, purple, pink, red, white, orange, yellow, sanity… sounds like it all is there for you and the kids to grow with. Peace be yours, Lori.

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Miss Pink November 7, 2011 at 11:20 am: It sounds pretty gorgeous.
I planted some plants last week. They're all dead now! Ugh, damn me and my black thumb.

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Steph(anie) November 7, 2011 at 10:25 am: Wonderful.

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Sarah November 7, 2011 at 9:58 am: I know this is totally irrelevant, but my youngest brother was banned from playing with sticks when he was little. When he was next caught stockpiling them he declared them to be wood, not sticks, and therefore fair game.

Your description of you in your garden makes me feel peaceful.

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Anonymous November 7, 2011 at 9:07 am: Sounds like it's your new Ocean, Lori. xx Julia

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jacqui November 7, 2011 at 1:16 pm: Those flowers are gorgeous! I can see why your garden would be a soothing place for you to dream your dreams.

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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: The Crappest GiveAway Ever (really, this time)

Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Lucky.

Random Ramblings of a SAHM: I suck at being sick.

September 2010 – RRSAHM

September 2010

My name is Lori, and I’m a Dirty Smoker.

by Lori Dwyer on September 29, 2010 · 42 comments

OK. *Deep breath*.

I’ve been meaning to write this post for days. Seriously. But every time I sit down at the computer to do it, the little man who lives in my head and is terribly addicted to that awful nicotine stuff whispers that, perhaps, there are other things that need doing that are far more important.

Bastard.

In fact, he’s trying to do it to me right now. Drag me away from the computer, put the thought of what I’m about to write out of my mind.

Excuse me while I go have a dirty, filthy cigarette. That should calm him down for a good 20 minutes or so.

Righto. *Cough* *hack* *splutter*. Annnnd….. I’m back.

My name is Lori, and I am a dirty smoker.

Have been for years now. Almost 16 years, if I care to think about, which I generally don’t. Depending on what’s going on, I smoke up to a pack a day. (I know, OK? I know).

Cool piccie stolen from this here Tumblr

I am horribly, wickedly addicted to these things.

I’ll give an example of just how addicted. Mark, the guy who is going to be my quit smoking guru, dared to call cigarettes a spade in his correspondence to me. That is, he said- cigarettes are dirty, disgusting and filthy. Undeniably true. But for one irrational moment there, I was offended on behalf of my cigarettes. Offended. On behalf on an inanimate object.

I’ll give that a moment to sink in. Shame, shame, shame.

Hey, it’s not my fault. Actually, it really is. But we’ll blame at least half of it on society, because that makes me feel better.

My dad- and most of his family- were smokers.

Smoking was cool. Not good for me, duh, I knew that. But so aloof and dangerous and sexy. Movie stars, they smoked.

From here.

As did all the Tortured, Pensive Artist Types I so admired, back when I was 13 years old.

And this one, from here.

Besides all that, I was 13. Lung cancer was the furthest thing from my mind.

So I pinched my dad’s ciggies, and taught myself to smoke. Taught myself to like it. When I was 16, working, and living with responsible adults who were happy to buy me cigarettes, my habit got worse. Much worse. Up to the pack a day we’re at now.

The only time I’ve been able to effectively quit smoking was during pregnancy. That wasn’t a trial, much. Smoking made me feel sick to the stomach. As did anything else I was silly enough to put in my mouth (Mind out of gutter, people, I don’t put those kind of icky things in my mouth- that’s how we got ourselves into the pregnancy situation in the first place.) I did however, keep up with my one cigarette, my one blessed hit of nicotine a day. And I would think about that cigarette for the whole 23 hours and 55 minutes that I was not smoking it.

Again, I know. Can we spell pathetic?

Anyway. I’m at the point where I’m sick of it. Every cigarette feels like it’s choking me, yet I keep on sucking them down. It annoys me, paying $15- $15!!– for a packet of cigarettes. It stinks. Both the cigarettes, and paying that much money just to inhale crap.

And, as if all that isn’t enough, I have two very small children. I don’t want them to grow up, thinking smoking is normal, or cool. I don’t want them to be smokers.

And I don’t want to die. That’s the crux of it, I think. I don’t want to leave my babies without a mother, any earlier than is absolutely necessary.

So. All that considered, I. Am. Quitting. Smoking, And… cue the deep, scary music. ~~Oh dear holy God what the f*ck am I doing?~~

~~Wish me luck. And wish the Man, and the kidlets, and the dog and the cat and any idiot or slow-walking person who happens to cross my way luck too. We’ll all need it.~~

Now, my mate Lucy is the one who officially talked me into this gave me a push in the right direction. She hooked me up with her ate Mark from ThinkSlim and ThinkQuit. And he, bless him, sent me his ThinkQuit pack. It’s pretty damn awesome. A book, DVD, a little mp4 player with all your stuff already programmed in. Muchly nifty.

And the coolest thing….? Well. Your little mp4 player comes in a little cardboard pack- that’s it there, in the picture, that is just like a packet of ciggies. I know, sounds odd, but, hear me out. Instead of taking your cigarettes, you take the box. Replacing a bad habit, with a good one. And it removes that problem of feeling like you are ‘missing something’, especially when you leave the house. Grab purse, phone, keys and little cardboard box.

Bloody brilliant idea.

So that’s where we at, my faithful tribe of jellybean-ers. I will keep you posted. October ~~9th~~ 16th looks like the date (the 9th is the eve of ~~Bridezilla’s~~ my best mates wedding. it seemed to be perilous, given the amount of fagging on that will be happening.) I plan to be a non-smoker by my birthday. Lucy and Mark both tell me it will all be very zen.

Here’s hoping.
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{ 42 comments }

Bath Time at the Purple House

by Lori Dwyer on September 29, 2010 · 22 comments

Shhh,

It’s been a long time since I’ve done a Wordless Wednesday. Because I can’t seem to shut up. Obviously. Anyway. Here you go. It’s bath time, at the Purple House….

… and how cute is that?!

While we’re here, the winner of the Tinkerbell DVD is…. Allie from In A Beautiful Pea Green Boat! Her girls are going to love this DVD. And she, like I, will be able to recite very freaking word of it within a few weeks time.

And *ahem* anyone looking for yesterday afternoon’s amazing disappearing post, please don’t fret- it will be back. Why did it go? I do not know. When will it be back? When the Google god gives his blessings, I suppose.

So… Wordless Wednesday. Like I said, I just can’t seem to shut the hell up. Shutting up… now.

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{ 22 comments }

All hail the Dreaded Mummy Bloggers.

by Lori Dwyer on September 27, 2010 · 33 comments

Hey’all,

I was lucky enough to attend a mummy blogger meet up tonight (well, not actually tonight, back on Sunday when I wrote this). It was sponsored by Nuffnang. They sent the muchly cool Vanessa and Sarah to ~~keep an eye on us~~ chill out with the bloggers. And I got to meet some awesome people. People like Brenda (who I’ve already met, but, hey, she’s awesome), Jodie, Eden, Corrinne, Julie, Beth and Christie.

We ate churros and chocolate and drunk coffee. And Vanessa and I smoked dirty cigarettes. We talked, we laughed, we swapped stories, ideas and opinions. It felt like meeting new people, who I’ve known for like, ages and ages, or in another cyber life. Or in my imagination. Or something.

Topics of conversation ranged from SEO, to penis (in a totally abstract form, I promise), from blog sponsors to mother-in-law’s (mine), and onto guest posts, advertising and why a review post is worth more than a loaf of bread. There was, naturally, lots of chatter about the Australian Blogging Conference. (I just bought my ticket, nananananana!!).

And, then, because most of us are, indeed, members of the mummy bloggers sect, there was a limited amount of talk about Duplo, nappies, birth and feral toddlers.

Because those are the things- blogging, and being mummies (or, in one case, a mummy-to-be) that what we have in common. So that is what we discuss. Yes…?

Anyway. As you may have guessed- the title of the blog kinds of gives it away, just a little- I’m a mummy blogger. And I’m totally OK with that.

Way back when, in my parenting forum days and before I blogged, I’d vaguely heard the term ‘Mommy Blogger’. It was something I loosely associated with woman who posted boring photos of their kids, lists of what activities they planned to do that day, and a million uses for a cardboard egg carton. And, no doubt, there are bloggers who do just that. I don’t read them, but I’m sure they’re out there.

Obviously, I didn’t set out to be one of ‘those’ bloggers. I just wanted to write stuff. Make people laugh again, the way I used to. And I soon discovered there was a whole lot of other woman out there, doing exactly the same.

Acceptance is the key, I think. I blog. A lot. I’m a mum. ~~A lot.~~ All the time. Being a mum, is, predominantly, what I am doing with my life right now. Writing about anything else, when motherhood is what consumes my life and my days, would feel fake. And, hey, most days, I thoroughly enjoy having two kids under three years old. Other days, I’m losing my f*cking mind. I’m sure you’ll forgive me, if I need an outlet to let off some steam.

I know the way mummy bloggers are viewed, in general. On the InterWebs. In that confusing other realm, known as Real Life, where people are not so easy to pigeonhole.

I tell people, some people, select people, In Real Life, that I blog. “About what?”

“I dunno. Stuff that happens. The kids. Life. Being a mum”. And I watch them, even my nearest and dearest, roll their eyes and turn away. It’s very much the same reaction I get when, in those rare social conversations with people over the age of four, I get asked, “So… what do you do?”

“I’m a mum”.

“Oh.”

And it’s the same, the half turn of a shoulder, the soft body language that dismisses you, denies you validation.

I invite anyone, In Real Life, who rolls their eyes and calls me a geek, to come read me. Read me. I might be a geek, but I ain’t boring. You might not like me, that’s OK. But I guarantee it won’t be because I bore you with endless photos of my children, or the Mashed Banana Monologues, the nutty nitty gritty of our daily routines. I write about mum stuff, because right now, that’s who I am, and what I do. I’m OK with that. Are you…?

I do rave about about pretty cloth nappies.But that’s a serious addiction I need help for, and we shouldn’t be laughing about it.

Where was I…? Oh yes. If you do click away from my little corner of the Web, it won’t be because I’m boring. It might be because you hate the way I write, or your sick of hearing about me doing dumb-arse stuff, or possibly because my review posts suck hard. But I doubt you’ll find me boring. My head is a fascinating place to be, and this is the place I spill it.

I always find it interesting when people jump up and down saying “I’m not a mummy blogger!”, like it’s such a bad thing. You blog, you’re a mum. The law of simple equations says that makes you a mummy blogger. What you do with that label, how you choose to feel about it (own it) is up to you. Some of the most wickedly funny stuff out there is by moms that blog, about their lives, and sometimes about their kids- mommy bloggers.

Do we even realize how powerful this label is? Mommy Blogging, in America, is a moving, seething, exploding cyber-institution. As any good review blogger will tell you, mums spend 75% of the money that comes into the household. We’re not stupid. We respect the opinions of other mothers, knowing they’ll tell us the truth when it comes to products for ourselves and our kids. We can bring large companies to their knees. We are revered on the Webs for our power to come together. To get organized quickly, to make things happen. We are mummy bloggers and we are damn scary. A whole something else. A force unto ourselves.

And, forgetting all that- let’s discuss my corporate whoring at a later date, shall we?- what about the love? What about the sharing? And I don’t mean Elmo-style. I mean having somewhere to be real, to take the piss, to talk about things that are raw, things that hurt. To confess when you fucked-up big time. (Everyone loves a big fuck-up. Makes us all feel better) To be happy and cheerful, to record your memories, your children’s lives. To write out the pain. To be self-reflective. To stay strong. To strip
yourself bare, and be brave.

That’s what our blogs are for. They are the heart and soul of us, our ups and downs, our good bits and our bad, poured out onto the screen. Shared, with people who can choose to understand, or not. Judge us, or not. Like us, or not.

Why do we feel so restricted by this mummy blogger label? Because you’re a mummy, you can’t drink or smoke or talk about sex or say the word fuck? Where did that ideal come from? Or is it just part of the wider perception we have of other mothers, of other women?

Your life has to be perfect, showing the best face to the world. Is that really what being a ‘mummy blogger’ is about?

I doubt it.

Mummy blogging, personal blogging, whatever sits best on your skin and in your mind, it’s about sharing our talent, our lives, our thoughts, opinions and ideas. It’s about women. Women like the ones I met tonight, who love their kids, and love to write and read the real lives of real people; happy cyber voyeurs with a delicious and unrestricted invite to the public yet personal scripture of other people’s mundane existence.

The Dreaded Mummy Blogger image is so deceptive. It taints the essence of what we do here. It diminishes the power of the very real connections and communities we grow, the hope and friendship and love we bring to one another.

I’m a mummy blogger.

I’m OK with that.

Us mummy bloggers, we’re kicking some arse.

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{ 33 comments }

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Bearing Witness. – RRSAHM

Bearing Witness.

by Lori Dwyer on October 3, 2012 · 10 comments

I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ’Yes.’

I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to be the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.

If I were slightly more unhinged, I’d have this tattooed all the way up and down my thigh.

***

Continued from yesterday... just for this question, here.

“Is suffering a prerequisite to understanding suffering?”

Short answer…no.

Much longer answer… everyone, I think, or most people at least, know some form of suffering. Most of us have been in deep emotional pain at one point or another. Suffering is relative, as is reality. Or, as Dr Phil likes to say– there is no reality, only perception.

All of that only makes sense if I actually get to my point. Which is– you can’t compare pain. You can’t compare losing a husband to losing a baby to losing a parent. You can’t compare any of those to the torture of infertility or the horror of sexual abuse. Human suffering is not a quantitative factor– therefore, it can’t be a necessary facet of understanding the pain of others.

Or it is completely necessary to have suffered yourself in order to have compassion for those who are suffering– and all of us, just by being human, qualify.

If you know what I mean.

The sense of helplessness coming off people is a palpable, tangible quality that dogs the air when I can’t hold it anymore and crack with pain in the presence of others. I’ve discovered a sharp, definitive place where people differ– I know the personality trait that makes people Worthy or Unworthy in my eyes in this strange After–light.

It’s simply in the ability to bear witness, or not. To able to stay and watch as someone else, another human being, rails against the Universe and sobs from a place inside themselves that most of us don’t like to even think about, let alone poke around in.

I judge people on whether they leave, or stay. Whether they can sit with me, with this, with what’s happened, and bear the weight of it. If they can handle the knowledge that they can do nothing except be here, do nothing expect listen and bring me a not cup of sugary tea when it’s all done. If they can bear the knowledge that this is not a movie, this is not fiction… this is my life. My pain is real; and, for the most part, unfixable.

Or…. if they can not.

Being bereaved yourself can mean you have a whole level of insight into grief that others don’t, that you do know more instinctively than others what to say or what to do in any given situation. But having experienced grief doesn’t mean you understand it. And it doesn’t necessarily mean you’re any better at dealing with or being in the presence of someone else’s pain than the next random soul to wander through that person’s life.

I can say, in all honestly, I divide people in my mind into those that are ’real’ and those that are not. The people I respect, I do so because they have shown me that they can, if the universe requires it of them, sit on their hands and feel powerless and, for a short time at least, be OK with that.

That they’re not afraid to bear witness to the pain of another; if a witness, a bystander, someone to mark their tears on the ledger of human suffering, is all that other person needs.

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{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }

whatkatedidnext October 7, 2012 at 12:49 pm: Well said, as usual.<3

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lizbethsa October 4, 2012 at 4:37 am: I did this too back when the awfulness happened.And sure enough, people ended up practically running away because they didn't know what to do. What surprised me is people that I barely knew stepped up and were there to hold me up in my time of despair. They were truly a god send.

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Toni October 3, 2012 at 10:49 pm: Most people run away because they can not handle it. My real friends have stayed even when they had no idea what to do or say they at least acknowledged they didnt know what to do, but they still wanted to help me and be around for me. This is the minority though, the majority of people put these things in the too hard basket.

I find it quite ironic that my blog posts about the 'bad and uncomfortable' stuff in my life have actually had the most reads and yet in real life these are the things everyone has run away from. Maybe people feel protected when they can read about it from a distance and dont have to act upon it.

I have this uncanny instinct of how to react now too since all the crap things that have happened in my life. I dont truly understand why any of it happens though (obviously because I feel the need to write about everything and over analyse it a million times – if I understood it then I too could move on and ignore it like the others)

Great post Lori. You tap into the subconscious thoughts so well xx

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Anonymous October 3, 2012 at 10:04 pm: Most true pain is unfixable….
Most people run far & fast from honest, raw, real expressions of pain. Even if they still appear to be there……

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Ellen October 3, 2012 at 8:23 pm: Exactly. I think it is much easier to help and fix, than to just be with someone who is hurting. For myself when I am in the depths of depression with a pain that no one can fix, I pull away from the fixers because I feel like I'm letting them down by staying broken. All I want is someone who will be there, hear and acknowledge my pain.

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Dorothy Krajewski October 3, 2012 at 5:55 pm: True. I do that too. Can people stay and bear witness to what I'm going through, or do they run and pretend I'm not here. Most people don't want to know or see the ugly stuff, as if I could help the ugly. It's just here, in my life, whether I like it or not.

Great post, Lori.

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Amanda October 3, 2012 at 4:56 pm: I think it wasn't until I'd been in an unfixable situation, and lived the depression that can't be shaken off, can't be walked away from, that I knew the value of silently staying.

It's hard to watch a friend hurting themselves, walking day after day through the same problems that no amount of fixing fixes, that no amount of progress can indicate that one day this will be over and life will move on.

But I sure as hell appreciate the people who stand with me when I can't stand myself, so I know for sure: Being there means everything. Thanks for stayin.

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Anonymous October 3, 2012 at 2:59 pm: I couldn't. I am not a person who could stand and bear witness to the pain, torture, and slow spiraling decent of a friend. I would like to think that this does not make me a bad person.

I lack the ability to be strong, not only for others but for myself as well. This doesn't mean that I don't love my pained friend or family member with every deep fibre of my being. My heart would ache for them, my mind ever occupied with worry for them and those around them.

I couldn't just watch. I would help in every way I can, in every way I could imagine. I wouldn't fade away. But I could not stand back and watch. I would inevitably say one of the many things you should not say. I couldn't forgive myself for inadvertently causing my dear one more suffering than they are already experiencing.

I struggle to accept your label of unworthy. I acknowledge my own emotional limitations – but it would hurt me to be considered less of a friend or family member because I could not accomplish for them the level of powerlessness I do not even allow myself.

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Joy October 3, 2012 at 10:28 am: Thank you. Just… Thank you.

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Jennifer A. Hall October 3, 2012 at 8:28 am: Thank you, thank you, thank you! You said this so very well, in a way that I couldn't articulate even in my own brain. I will share and quote you. (((HUGS)))

Reply

Previous post: What To Say When You Don’t Know What To Say.

Next post: Vlogged- The Fairy Garden.

May 2011 – RRSAHM

May 2011

The Fetal Position

by Lori Dwyer on May 30, 2011 · 2 comments

Assume the fetal position.

We are safe here, for now. We feel safe.

My house is warm and small and neat and comfortable. My washing dries in the wind and sun. Potted colour blooms in my garden.

Cakes cook. I sleep, deeply, and my dreams are harmless. I have support, enough (it’s never enough…), just enough to get by.

And I am scared. And that’s OK.

Because I’ve run, and I’ve run, for months now. I’ve been so strong and brave. Now the bits are in place enough, just enough, for me to assume the fetal position.

My soul is so exhausted. It just needs to rest for a while, now we’re safe.

So things are terrifying. Taking my children to swimming lessons, new people, a new place? It makes me sick to my stomach with terror. Visiting the post office is an exercise in self esteem, in being strong,in keeping a stiff upper lip, when their is a three year old throwing one of his irrepressible tantrums.

The thought of making friends down here, of making small talk… it’s simply too frightening to comprehend.

I hate it. I miss the Lori that was so social. But I just cannot form connections, form friendships and play social niceties with people right now.

It’s just too damn difficult.

And I don’t think it matters. I’m doing any damage. If this is how I need to heal.. then, I guess, so be it.

Ugh…. Blogger is playing up. Comments not working. No fun at all. Sorry about that, jellybeans, it should be back to normal soon.

post signature

{ 2 comments }

I Don’t Want To Die, But…

by Lori Dwyer on May 29, 2011 · 2 comments

Some days there just doesn’t seem much point to this.

The future looks very bleak. There’s not much to look forward to.

And I’m just so exhausted. And sad. And awfully sick of thinking.

Honestly, it would be such a pleasure to just… sleep.

It’s not I want to die. I don’t, particularly.

But living isn’t much right now, either.

The only thing that keeps me here, are my children. And not because I enjoy their company so very much- although i do, but every time I look at them, it reminds me of what I’ve lost- but simply because it would be so unfair. So chronically, unbelievably unfair on them.

They never asked for this, any more than I did. And I won’t burden them with more than they already have.

And,if I’m honest- and I am, here, always- I’ve considered taking them with me. So I could go, I could die, and not have to worry about what would happen to them…

We could all be a family again.

But such gorgeous little people, who enjoy their days so much.. how could I deny the world the chance to have them in it?

That would be unfair, a travesty to society. Because they are brilliant people, and will do amazing things.

So.. I discount trees and walls when driving, ignore them rather then turning the wheel toward to them. I walk straight past coils of sinister orange nylon rope at the hardware store, without stroking them longingly. Without even looking back.

I don’t want to die.

I just want to be with Tony again.

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{ 2 comments }

TonyHead.

by Lori Dwyer on May 27, 2011 · 26 comments

Hey my TonyHead,

Everyone else seemed to be such a tiny part of our lives, hey? We were so cellular. Our little purple complex, and everything was beautiful.

I remember everything. You know that, right? Even the things I thought I’d forgotten… I remember them now.

The very first time I realised, like a light bulb clicking on, that you were flirting with me. And you telling me, in perfect detail twelve months later, what I was wearing that day and how gorgeous and sweet and innocent you thought I was.

I remember sitting in a park in Glebe on our first date.

I remember the first huge argument we had, over some chick you knew, and how we managed to spend five hours apart before I was back, crawling into your bed, saying I was sorry, and you ruffled my hair and called me a boofhead.

I remember your voice shaking, and you got down on one day and asked me “Will you do the honour of becoming my wife… one day, eventually?” on the packed dirt floor of the old elephant enclosure at the zoo.

Because, you told me in your wedding speech, elephants are lucky.

You were so proud of that speech- and so you should have been, I was proud of you. I’ve never been so proud in my whole life as what I was that night, on the dance floor, arms wrapped around you, you whispering to me how perfect this was, how this was the best party you’d ever been to.

I remember you squeezing my hands, rubbing my hair, bringing me ice when I was in labour. Joking with me that I had eaten all the ice, and me crying, because didn’t you understand that was a tragedy??

I remember, we got pissed that last Christmas night. I’m so glad we did. In all the time we were together, I only saw you drunk a handful of times. And it seems like something a husband and wife should do together, get shitfaced.

You told me you loved me ten times a day. I loved that so much about you- that we told each other, and our kids, how much we loved them, all the time.

I miss you, you know that? the shock wears off… and the ache for you, it gets worse.

You told me, so may times, that no matter happened in our lives, we would always be best mates. We knew each other’s souls, inside out.

I miss you. I’d give anything, just for one more second… I’d give the rest of my life, for one more night with you.

That’s the hardest part about all this. All I want is you, and you.. you’re dead.

It’s just so hard, not to want to die too.

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{ 26 comments }

← Previous Entries

A woefully inadequate book review- by a 'special' guest poster!! – RRSAHM

A woefully inadequate book review- by a ‘special’ guest poster!!

by Lori Dwyer on October 14, 2010 · 28 comments

Aren’t you lucky..? I have a very special guest poster for you today. Her name is Mrs Winterpepper. She ~~is a snobby old bitch~~ ~~quite the busybody~~ may or may not be close friends with my mother-in-law. I’ll let you be the judge of that.

Hellooo,

Welcome. My name is Mrs Winterpepper, and I will be you hostess for today.

Lori *sniff*, a friend of a friend of an unfortunate family member, is continually raving on about this ‘blog-whatever’ of hers, and how silly people send her things for free so she can tell them what she thinks of them.

*Sniff* Reeeeeallly? Well. Goodness me. In fact, just lately she tells me she’s been sent a copy of the book “Cocktails at Naptime“. Quite frankly, I was disgusted. Cocktails? At naptime? Really. *Sniff*. I confiscated the book. In order to do a thorough inspection of this… this.. concept.

I was, quite frankly, beyond being disgusted. I was horrified.

The advice contained within!! The debauchery. Never in all my days have I seen the word- well, you know the word, I’m sure, if you’re reading this blog with it’s foul words. That word. The f-word. Used in this context. In relation to motherhood. Mothers of small children should not be having s-e-x, ladies. It’s improper. As this book points out, you’ll be far too tired and leaky for that anyway, but that is hardly the point.

This novel contains information on how to be something called a “yummy mummy”. It contains a ridiculously unabashed chapter on the myths surrounding post-natal issues such as sex, sleep and *sniff* chocolate. It also goes into graphic detail on the after-math of childbirth, and the routine hospital humiliation that goes hand in hand.It discusses such ridiculous things as ‘body image’ and the concept of actually going back to work after you have children. Imagine.

Really, the only part of this book that I found even relatively close to the truth was the section titled ‘Instructions for New Grandmothers’. They may have got everything else tragically wrong (one is almost tempted to call Community Services *sniff*), this part of the book is spot on. My daughter-in-law never fed her baby correctly. I tired to tell her- every four hours, and if he’s hungry in between, then too bad, but she just refused to listen. And, why, yes, I do buy my grand son quaint little outfits from a shop nearby named Little Angels, run by another grandmother just like me, just as the authors of this book suggest. And then I struggle him into them, bow tie and all, the very second my daughter-in-laws back is turned.

Really, it’s for his own good. Those track suit pants may be comfortable, but he just does not look proper.

*Sniff*.

After ringing Lori and giving a good lecture about the evils of this book, she attempted to point out to me that it is actually “tongue-in-cheek” or “satirical”. I’m not sure what either of those words mean. I’m assuming they mean that Lori found this book quite amusing. But I can see how this would appeal to her low-brow sense of humor. Which all of you apparently share. It’s a disturbing thought. Excuse me while I pour myself a stiff cup of tea. *Sniff*.

The ~~culprits~~ authors of this book are Gillian…

….and Emma. Should you see them on the street, avoid them.

Ladies, you should be very, very ashamed of yourselves. *Sniff*

Well. That’s my review. This book is exactly what it promises on the cover- a woefully inadequate guide to early motherhood.

For some Jesofiah unknown reason, I have an extra two copies of the book in my (*editors note- greasy, scaly, wrinkly, old lady….) hands. I certainly don’t want them soiling my book shelf. My Mills and Boons take up plenty of room as it is, thankyouverymuch.

Now, if you would like a copy of this book, Cocktails at Naptime, *sniff* I need you to leave me a comment. Be polite. Say “Pleased to meet you, Mrs Winterpepper”. If you could all chorus it together, like you used to do in primary school, that would be most satisfactory.

And.. tell me the best advice your darling, wise mother-in-law ever gave you. As I said- weren’t you listening the first time!?– I have two copies to give away. You have until Monday 18th October at 8pm to impress me. At which point I will choose the winner at random anyway.

*Sniff*. Well, that’s it. Really, I don’t know what you lot see in this place. It’s giving me a headache.

Leave a Comment

{ 28 comments… read them below or add one }

•´.¸¸.•¨¯`♥.Trish.♥´¯¨•.¸¸.´• October 16, 2010 at 9:02 pm: "So, pleased to meet you, Mrs Winterpepper"…
"I've not had the pleasure before of meeting such a refined lady"

My mother in law told me to face the pram towards /walk into the sun . So the sun was in the babies eyes …guaranteed to encourage (force) a baby/toddler to close their eyes and fall asleep.
(oh my poor hubby)

She also tried to speak to me pre marriage about her sex life advice …said she only had ever had 3 Big O's when her ex hub (my FIL) had a bad back ….but I feined deafness and pretended not to hear her.

I am still pretending to be deaf (well I wear a hearing aid) but alas she discovered emails at the age of 78 …I have no escape from her weekly advice …of course it goes in one eye and out the other.

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Sarah October 15, 2010 at 7:11 am: Pleased to meet you, Mrs Winterpepper =)

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Wanderlust October 15, 2010 at 6:22 am: Will be sending Mrs. Winterpepper a copy of my Flaghussy Chronicles when it comes out.

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JourneyBeyondSurvival October 15, 2010 at 6:01 am: MrsWinterPepper,
I would like to know how you mother-in-laws do it. Yes. I really would like to know how you can completely and totally ignore an entire person, except when that person is gestating your next descendant.

I would also like to know how it can be termed 'proper' to tell one to be sure and rough up ones' *ipples before the baby comes. REally? Good and hard you say?

Seriously MrsWinterPepper, I would rather take one of your books off your hands. Please don't call write or visit unless emergent.

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Kirsty October 15, 2010 at 1:28 am: Pleased to meet you Mrs Winterpepper.

I try not to listen when my mother-in-law speaks. Safest all round really otherwise I might be forced to sock her one in the chops and that just isn't acceptable. (apparently!!)

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EmmaK October 15, 2010 at 12:35 am: Mrs Winterpepper thank you! At least someone has the balls to stand up for all that is good and right in society. Too many mums eff and blind all over the shop and think it's cool. It's not. I hope you will continue to campaign for morality and decency – and hope that no nipple Janet Jackson's or otherwise will ever see the light of day with your beady eye on the media.

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Kylie October 14, 2010 at 11:01 pm: Pleased to meet you Mrs Winterbottom. Unfortunately both my mother and mother in law gave me lots of inappropriate advice such as pick up your baby if they are crying, feed them on demand and it is perfectly ok to return to work if that's what you want to do. Obviously when I have my own grandbabies, I will not be dispensing such silly advice to my daughter or daughter in law!

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Aly October 14, 2010 at 7:32 pm: Pleased to meet you Mrs Winterbottom.

My most treasured piece of advice came from my mother, not my mother in law, who advised my sister and I that we needed to make sure we were dedicated wives and provided that 'magic' that only a wife can provide to our husbands no matter what. "Because my dear, once the 'magic' dies, the relationship dies…" Could have been good advice if it wasn't administered right after child birth (and she was referring to making sure the magic didn't cease even temporarily while our bodies recovered!
Mothers, got to love them!

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Fiona October 14, 2010 at 6:00 pm: *giggles*

ahem

Sorry, back in my place.

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Aussiemumbecc October 14, 2010 at 4:04 pm: Pleased to fkn meet u mrs wintersalt or watever it is lol My mum in law rocks btw

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nellbe October 14, 2010 at 3:25 pm: Pleased to meet you, Mrs Winterpepper.

I have racked my brain to figure out what the best advice I received from my MIL but I cannot think of anything that I took notice of.

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x0xJ October 14, 2010 at 1:46 pm: Pleased to meet you, Mrs Winterpepper.
I can't say i even got a word of helpfu adivce from my mother in law. Mother's in law! Psh, who's cruel idea of a joke are they?!
I've had helpful insights ranging from being told how "wrong" breastfeeding is, to hos "disgusting" cloth nappies are, but the piece of advice that took the cake for both my partner and i was in a discussion of how we were not pro-smacking, and that if we chose to smack it would be something that we as parents did in extreme cases. MIL professed that we obiviously had "no idea" about what being a parent took, and that she would smack our children reguardless of what we think. She even took it a step further by later having a "frank talk" with me about the logistics of smacking and how you "need to do it hard enough to leave a mark or you're not doing it right".
Sadly, we were crossed off of her Christmas card list some time ago for failure to follow orders.
Phew! Going through all that made me need a cocktail, and it is naptime….

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Jacki October 14, 2010 at 1:39 pm: Dear Mrs Winterpepper,
One can only hope that you are destined to become a fixture on this blog.
As for advice from my mother in law….
I haven't received advice so much as I've received comments, directed towards my children ('you're not still using a DUMMY are you?' to a 6 month old and 'don't tell me you can't catch a ball yet?' to a one year old).
Please have sympathy for my predicament.
I love parenting books….

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Lori @ RRSAHM October 14, 2010 at 1:09 pm: Glen, quite frankly, I am speechless. Really. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth??

Dannie, bless you, thank you, i was a school teacher before i retired. Actually, i was fired for telling one of the mothers what a snotty, revolting brat her child was, but I was close to retirement age. I think, given my popularity, I will most definitely be blogging again soon.

Signed,
Mrs Winterpepper.

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Sarah of ‘Catching the Magic’ October 14, 2010 at 11:53 am: Pleased to meet you Mrs Winterpepper and I totally agree with your review as I have a copy of that same book soiling my shelves in a most provocative manner! I read the chapter about 's.e.x.' (hard to say, let alone think about!) with horror. My 3rd baby was born 8 months ago and well 'libidio' what the hell?!! Let's just say I have a VERY understanding husband who makes good use of his time in the shower, ahem! No need to enter me in the draw, but darn you are a genius!!!

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Kel October 14, 2010 at 11:13 am: Mrs Winterpepper, it's lovely to meet you but there is no need for you to get your neck high, Tena lined panties in a twist over this publication. Honestly, send me a copy and we can have a simultaneious, sacrificial burning* of the offending book. Yours truly, Kel.
*please note you may be the only one burning things while I'm on the couch with my book and chocolate.

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In Real Life October 14, 2010 at 10:48 am: "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Winterpepper!"

My considerate mother-in-law went out of her way to not give me any advice when my children were small; unfortunately, this was true even when I was looking for advice.

Lori – you are fabulously creative!

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vegemitevix October 14, 2010 at 10:06 am: Brilliant! But Mrs Winterpepper I think you've been sucking a few too many chillis dearheart. Now now, surely women need to have s.e.x at least occasionally if only to keep the menfolk in line! If women didn't lie back and think of England what on earth would happen with all those men on the street?

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toushka October 14, 2010 at 9:16 am: Mrs Winterpepper, it is so nice to finally meet you, I have heard oh so much about you and I think you would get along famously with my husband's mother. She was far too polite to mention anything to me upon meeting her first grandson but promptly relayed to her daughter how I foolishly did not put a singlet on my child. She lives in New Zealand and believes that every city suffers sub zero temperatures and thus I should be dressing my child in singlets under several layers in the Melbourne summer. You would LOVE her.

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Being Me October 14, 2010 at 9:03 am: Bloody genius fantastic hilarious. If there were a prize from Finch Publishing on the best review of the blog tour, this would be it!

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A dose of Dannie October 14, 2010 at 8:07 am: Good Morning to you
Mrs Winterpepper:-)
wow!it is an honour to meet you you do look like my school primary teacher (now thats a compliment)
Will you be blogging your self soom that would be interesting in itself!?

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Brenda October 14, 2010 at 7:38 am: That last pic is pure gold! And OMG! Mrs Winterpepper totally rock!

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Glen October 14, 2010 at 7:36 am: Is it only me that finds Mrs Winterpepper a bit horny?

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Amy xxoo October 14, 2010 at 7:34 am: My dearest Mrs Winterpepper,
I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. Lord knows I love Miss Lori's humour and wit, but its nice to finally get a sense of decorum around these parts ( *cough, splutter, choking on my own sarcasm * ).
My mother-in-law, much like you, is fabulous. In fact her only bit of advice to me that i can remember is to listen to other peoples advice, and then only use what you feel is relevant to you and your baby. The rest of the time she is too busy making me cups of tea and asking if want something more to eat. Lovely lady she is…
Yours sincerely,
Amy

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Bronnie and family October 14, 2010 at 7:24 am: Pleased to meet you, Mrs Winterpepper. I can tell you I was shocked when I read your review. Those so-called authors sound completely irresponsible and quite possibly inadequate mothers due to their guzzling of alcohol and inability to dress their offspring in a proper way. About the only thing I may agree with is that at least they are not have, (and forgive the profanity), sex; because everyone knows mothers should be respectable citizens and behave like Ladies.
I can barely believe that a book such as this one has been published, so I would appreciate receiving a copy so that I may inspect it for myself. I might even review it myself (sniff).
Yours,
An Extremely Good and Non-Sexual Mother. My House is always clean and tidy, and my children dressed like angels.

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mrs woog October 14, 2010 at 7:17 am: oh my god I wish I lived inside your brain…… you are a genius

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Eva Gallant October 14, 2010 at 10:08 am: I would like to examine this book for myself, but I don't know if that's possible, since I live in the USA.

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misssy m October 14, 2010 at 9:10 am: Mrs Winterpepper,

Don't enter me into this competition as I would not have such filth in my house, but know this: I LOVE YOU!

Reply

Previous post: I Can’t F*cking Shut Up Wednesday. In My Undies.

Next post: It’s BlogFlogging Day!!

Random Ramblings of a SAHM: No good deed goes unpunished.

Random Ramblings of a SAHM: The Things We Do For Our Kids…

Random Ramblings of a SAHM: The Crappest GiveAway Ever (really, this time)

Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Falling Into Place

Dirty, Dirty Smokers. – RRSAHM

Dirty, Dirty Smokers.

by Lori Dwyer on November 2, 2011 · 32 comments

The Quit family series
highlights how smoking can impact your family and is made possible by
Quit Victoria. Smoking doesn’t
have to kill you to have an enormous impact on you and your family.
You CAN Quit. Make an appointment with your GP or meet Mick to learn more.

***

Blogging in my undies last week, I got a comment from a regular RRSAHM reader named Paul who, lucky man, lives in Melbourne.

I spoke in my BodyLove post about the rampant abuse I sometimes inflict on my body, and how well it copes. Paul had this to say…

And, not judging ( and I’m a non smoker, ex athlete, who use to love smokey live music venues mind you, and still does, if I could find one now it’s illegal ), but are you not concerned the heavy smoking will have a big bad effect at all one day ?

YOU have talents and good things to offer to the world, and your kids, and your grandkids. How much of a gamble are you willing to make on that ?

Bloody good question Paul. It’s one that, back in the Purple Before, kept me awake at night. Different things keep me awake at night now.

My mate Emma Sbrain and I. Don’t we look cool? Not… really. OK then.

Most parents who smoke get it, I’m sure. All parents are aware of it, somewhere. But smokers more so because, as much as we laugh about it and try to ignore and pretend that the health risks of smoking are embellished if not outright lies…. as much as we do all that, we still know that smoking kills. And it kills you when you’re young, and it’s fast and painful.

And that question hangs in the back of your mind… What would happen to my children, if I died? How would I cope?

I watch clips like this one with Mick Roberts from Quit and I shudder. 49 years old. My children would be 23 and 21. And that’s not fair.

Especially for me, for us. And once again, I feel like a dick saying that, but it feels that way… especially for us. My children have already lost one parent. The odds are against them. My being a smoker stacks those odds again.

I know that might strike people as odd, but truly that’s the way it is. I love my children desperately, but that’s not my primary reason for not wanting to go and die. It’s just that it would be so unfair, so unjust. Putting them on a back foot in the world, before they’ve even begun. It would leave them as orphans.

And that’s just the end result. Before that, there’s be something akin to what I wrote about, with the relief of someone dieing… taking care of me, with me unable to take care of myself. Attached to an oxygen tank. Having to sleep sitting upright because I will drown in the fluid on my lungs if I don’t. I’ve seen it happen. I wouldn’t wish having to watch that on my kids. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

So, I guess in answer to your question Paul… yep. I think about it. I have attempted to quit, back in the Before. And thanks to various events and happenings, it’s on my mind again.

Let me think about this one, jellybeans. I’ll keep you posted.

***

Leave a Comment

{ 32 comments… read them below or add one }

Bethany March 7, 2012 at 1:49 pm: It is great that you are trying to get back your will to stop. My uncle consulted a chemist to help ease the cravings. Maybe this can help.

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paul in tropical melbourne November 3, 2011 at 12:58 pm: PART 2 ( part 1 is above ) :

So, to all the smokers out there I say – if you like it, get into it fully, and really enjoy it to the max, just accept the responsibilities and any conseqences that may come with it. Any Scorp worth their salt will tell you that, coz we have no guilty pleasures. Pleasures yes. Guilt no. So go for it.

Or don't. Just don't be half arsed about it. Don't 'try to give up'. Do. Make a decision and back yourself to the hilt. Expect unexpected challenges and plan reviews. Plan for long term and be happy if it's shorter. The commenters here seem to have lots of good, first hand advice .

Focus on building the new you, rather than on giving up the old. The old will die off from lack of energy being given to it.

There is a 74 year old guy that works at the fruit market nearby. He smokes like train on steroids. I asked him about it a few months ago and he said that he's never had a sick day or bad effect from his smoking in his life. Not even a cough. His doctor does the tests and still can't believe it. I know of one other person like this ( 20 years ago ). But this is an obvious minority.

Everybody's health is subjective and unique. It's like how people respond to fatty foods – some get high cholesterol, some don't, and everything in between. You have to find what works for you.

And if I was Lori, I'd be looking at working on an overall approach – physical, mental, emotional and spiritual – build a new version Lori, from within, so to speak.

To me, from the outside here, this is the opportunity that Life is presenting her with strongly at the moment.

( Sorry to talk about you in the third person, Lori. Feels a bit weird. )

Now I have to get back to my own life, and apply some of my own advice to myself….

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paul in tropical melbourne November 3, 2011 at 12:57 pm: ( I had to split this into two parts as there must be a characters limitation in comments )

PART 1 :

Spacejump.

That's how it looks to me – giving up smoking is a spacejump – the jump from an old you to a new you.

I prepared myself for a possible reader lashing before opening the comments box. I was relieved somewhat I have to say. But I am also someone who would stand alone before the world and speak a truth if I believed it. Even if it was against myself. I have to be honest with myself first and always. ( Just so you know where I'm coming from. )

—————————

@wanderlust ( first post here ): ( I'm not a heartless bastard btw ) nor, I believe, a 'goodie-goodie' – I DID give careful consideration, and several rewites, before I posted that original piece about the timing, value and appropriateness of it. And remember, this is an issue of possible life and death, pain and suffering and major life effect, on more than one person. This is really, really, really important. Do I just let a fellow human being go on without checking ?

The other thing to remember is that any person's potential is infinite. And I think I'd seen enough fire in Lori's belly, post After, to chance it.

—————————

Way back, there use to be smoking and non smoking sections on planes ( yes, unbelievably ). Amusingly only separated by a row of seats, nothing else. I would always choose the non smoking row immediately behind the last smoking row, because the conversations were better with the smokers I found. ( Less anal ? Whatever it was, the vibe was different. ) True story.

( continued in PART 2 following )

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Anonymous November 3, 2011 at 12:39 pm: I knew when I read Paul's comment that some people wouldn't see the kindness in what he had to say. He's not being judgmental but is genuinely concerned. Lori, you have inner strength and you know it. Giving up smoking is hard but you have dealt with much harder things recently. You l have the determination to do it when you are ready. I just hope you are ready soon. Keep thinking on it!

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Ms Kate November 3, 2011 at 10:12 am: I am so pleased you are thinking about it again. We all want you to live lots longer

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Anonymous November 3, 2011 at 1:51 am: And also- yes to whoever said you have a lot on your plate right now. I went through a wretched divorce, stopped eating, smoked two packs a day and just drank wine. I survived. You just have to survive right now. More will come when you're ready. -Liz

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Anonymous November 3, 2011 at 1:50 am: I am an ex smoker who LOVED to smoke. Everything you say is so familiar.

I finally quit with Chantix. It truly helped me. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. You have to do it when you're ready. Nobody can guilt you into it. It won't stick.

I just want to affirm that it's possible, it gets easier and easier and even though this sounds impossible–you eventually don't even think about cigs anymore. Good luck! -Liz

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Sharon @ Hear Mum Roar November 2, 2011 at 10:52 pm: I know what you mean, except of course, your situation would make it more urgent.

We have our step daughter (15) coming to stay and she smokes as well. We're going to quit smoking, otherwise it'll be hypocritical of us to ask it of her.

I just wish I'd never started the filthy habit to begin with

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marketingtomilk November 2, 2011 at 10:38 pm: You know i'm 100% behind you, not just because my mum just died of lung cancer, but because it is the most wonderful thing you could ever do. I'm still delighted 13 years later that i don't have to carry that dark cloud around with me all day, every day.

Yes you can smoke and still want the best for your children – it's a ridiculous addictive drug addiction at the end of the day. Gah – non smokers will never get that.

but i'm with you, and hope you feel the strength at some point to give it another go.

M2M

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Anonymous November 2, 2011 at 10:01 pm: I've always wondered about this. I am a non-smoker, always have been….and it's interesting to see the thoughts of a smoking parent (who loves their children very much) about the subject. Very brave of you to put the new ad up! Look forward to reading more of your thoughts about the subject. Much love xx Julia

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wishihadakarmaanghia November 2, 2011 at 9:29 pm: It IS so hard to stop smoking. I try at least 3 times a year and always go back to it. My reasons for quitting are that I have 2 boys on the autistic spectrum, one of whom possibly won't lead an independent adult life and will always need me. But my big fat excuse is that day to day living is sooooo bloody hard sometimes that every time there's a huge crisis I reach for the cigs again.

The thing I find the least helpful is people telling me that I have bigger things in my life to worry about – "be kind to yourself" – and that I should do what I need to do – ie keep smoking! Even my Doctor has said this to me!!! This gives me the perfect excuse to go back to smoking every single time. Basically people are saying "your life is so hard that you shouldn't make it harder by quitting". Surely getting a debilitating illness would just make it all the harder!

I've set myself a quit date of this Saturday. Not looking forward to it but it has to be done. Addiction is not pretty and I want to get rid of it once and for all. No more excuses.

Good luck to you, Lori!

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Diminishing Lucy November 2, 2011 at 8:25 pm: Hey Lori

I saw Mark Stephens this weekend. He asked after you.

You will do the giving up thing when you are ready.

And when you are ready, it will be easy.

Promise.

Lucy xx

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MultipleMum November 2, 2011 at 7:18 pm: One step at at time Lori. I have the same relationship with food. We all die from something; it is just that smoking speeds up the process! x

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Anonymous November 2, 2011 at 4:43 pm: What Wanderlust said. You've got enough on. When you haven't and you're ready, it will happen. For now, be gentle with yourself. Xxx

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pinktutu72 November 2, 2011 at 3:01 pm: I started smoking when I was 13 and quit so many times, once even for 9 months when I got pregnant with my son, but I picked it back up again each time. About 11 years ago I woke up sick one morning and I was just tired of it all so I quit and never picked it back up. Quitting smoking is WAY harder on you emotionally than it is physically. You'll quit when you can, when you feel you're strong enough.
Karlene

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Irene November 2, 2011 at 2:54 pm: My father died of lung cancer when I was 28 and my brother was 22. It was incredibly hard on us, constantly going back and forth to the hospital as he gradually lost weight and strength, until he couldn't get out of bed and would just lie there staring at the ceiling until someone spoke to him. My brother and I also had to make decisions about treatment, such as did we want to do procedures that would prolong his life but not cure him? He would still be an invalid but we would have him a little longer. He didn't want those measures but it still seemed to last a very long time. We canceled trip plans and holiday gatherings, stopped doing anything else really except going to the hospital.
It was a horrible way to die and it was really awful to watch someone you love waste away like that. If it helps motivate you to quit, think about your kids having to go through that.

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Anonymous November 2, 2011 at 2:48 pm: Lori, I wish you the best of luck. You can do this. I quit using patches, and did an all or nothing approach, and have not smoked for 17 years. I know I will never have another cigarette- it's just something I know. And it was the best thing I ever did, because when my husband died from lung cancer 4 years ago, leaving me with a 1 year old and a 3 year old, at least I know I am doing the most I can to ensure that my kids don't lose both parents. Good luck to you- I have never commented before but I read your blog and my heart goes out to you. You are very strong- and you can do this too. Think of it as something you are doing FOR yourself and the kids, not depriving yourself.

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Shellye November 2, 2011 at 2:10 pm: Lori, you make some very good points about what would happen to your children if something happened to you.

I have a friend who is 33 years old and has COPD. She can barely do anything without stopping to catch her breath. She has coughing fits that last five to ten minutes. Doctors have advised her to quit many times, but she hasn't, and it's only going to get worse. Two of her aunts are in their 50's and have COPD. (One of them almost died during a coughing fit.) One aunt and one uncle have lung cancer. Her mother has heart failure from smoking. Her father is pretty lucky. Her parents both quit the day her mother went into heart failure. I keep trying urge her to quit because I'm afraid she's going to get a worse health problem or die in her forties because of smoking.

These things being said, I don't know how much you smoke. I don't know if you are already having breathing problems, and I don't know if it has affected your health in other aspects. I agree that it is your decision to make. The reason I push my friend so much is because her smoking is affecting her health and well being. I will tell you this; smoking does affect a person's health in ways that smokers don't realize, and it takes fifteen years for the body to repair itself.

Some things to think about…
I wrote several posts about why quitting is important. Allow me to share them.

Why Quitting Is Important:
http://confessionsofaredhead-shellye.blogspot.com/2011/07/why-quitting-is-important.html

Why Quitting is Important Part 2:
http://confessionsofaredhead-shellye.blogspot.com/2011/10/why-quitting-is-important-part-2.html

I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I'm just presenting some facts for you to think about. Whenever you're ready, I'm here to offer love, help, and support.

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MarietteRD November 2, 2011 at 1:48 pm: One day at a time..even 5 mins at a time. Some clever person said.."excellence is the next 5 mins" and you just keep putting those 5 mins together (easy said, I know)
Maybe take the money you would have spent and spend it on something else.. for yourself. First every day, then save it for 2-3 days, then a week and then save it for a month…
Could work!
Meanwhile no chocolate for me for at least the next 5 mins.
Good luck!

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Anonymous November 2, 2011 at 1:40 pm: I realize this might not work for everyone, and that, for some, cold turkey is the only option, but cutting down and rationing cigarettes was the only thing that worked for me! I found cold turkey to be brutal… Instead, I worked out how many cigs I was smoking a day, and cut them down bit by bit… Eventually, when I was down to just 3 a day, I would smoke them in half cigarettes, butting half out and putting it back into the packet so 3 became 6 tiny cigarettes! Either way, this worked for me as I weaned myself off them and needed less and less each day. Like I said, perhaps only a good method for those good at self control- which normally I'm not! All the very best with it. xx

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Amy xxoo November 2, 2011 at 12:23 pm: I also agree with the whole " one day at a time " theory. If you can say " i'm not having a cigarette before breakfast today " then maybe you can skip the one at morning tea aswell, then maybe the mid afternoon one…. and you might slip up and have a smoke that night, but you can start the whole thing over in the morning until one day ( hopefully ) you realise you havent had a smoke for a week, or a fortnight or a few months…
Whichever way you decide, when you're ready to try i think we're all behind you!

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whatsinemmasbrain November 2, 2011 at 11:43 am: I lurve that photo, I call it….. The dirty, filthy disgusting habit.
I get it, although I would desperately like to give up.
Xxx

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Samantha Mawdsley November 2, 2011 at 11:10 am: Good luck, pretty lady! I hope you decide to quit & I wish you every success in happiness in your journey! xx

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feryxlim November 2, 2011 at 11:01 am: I think the problem with quitting is people tell themselves "NEVERMORE" for the rest of their lives. I have been very specific about the life events I would feel require cigarettes. Only when I happen to hve one in my hand and someone happens to light it for me, then why not. But seriously though, quitting is easier when you don't think in forever terms.

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Toots November 2, 2011 at 9:53 am: The comment about give up each day is so true. Don't think "I'm giving up ciggies from now until forever." Just decide not to have this one. Then maybe don't have the next one.

You ever tried walking up a mountain looking at the top? Impossibly demoralising. Just watch your feet, as they take one step and then one more.

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Vicky November 2, 2011 at 9:46 am: good luck Lori. Thinking about it is a start. I gave up 18months ago. I tried to do it cold turkey – unsuccesfully, much to my dismay.

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Me November 2, 2011 at 9:24 am: I totally get where you are coming from – as you are with smoking, so I am with eating ! I know that if I don't lose weight I am at risk of heart disease, diabetes etc etc but I don't think about that when I am stuffing my face with junk.

This time I am losing weight for a vain reason – I don't want to look fat in my holiday snaps but ultimately, it is for my health. I am not as young as I used to be and I have noticed that it takes me longer to recover when I am sick. My daughter is 19yo and I want to see her grow up and get married and have children and be a grandma. But I want to be a grandma who can actively play with her grandchildren – not one who sits in front of the TV and can only have them sit on my lap.

When you are ready, you will be able to do it. My mind is in a completely different place now and I am just doing it one day at a time.

Good luck with whatever you decide !

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Kate November 2, 2011 at 9:15 am: I started smoking back when it was cool. Seriously. That long ago. I've had periods of not smoking here and there, but I am still a smoker.

Those ads kill me. You know the little boy crying one? He looks like my small boy, it rips me up. Then I go and have a ciggie. *sigh*

I don't smoke in public. I don't even really smoke at other people's houses. Such is my guilt and disgust. But still I smoke.

Literally as I type this the hub is at the docs sussing out champix. I'm going to get those inhaler fellows. It's time to try again.

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Eccentricess November 2, 2011 at 9:00 am: Give up every day! When you slip up, forgive yourself and start trying again.

And every morning, make the resolution to not smoke today. No guilt, no stress, just that wonderful feeling in the morning that today, you will do something positive for yourself and everyone who loves you.

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A Dose of Dannie November 2, 2011 at 8:56 am: Right now i am taking the new (Nicorette inhaler) ? so far it hasd been 3 days and so far so good .
I have stopped and started so many times i lost count . But i really need to stick to it this time!

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Missy November 2, 2011 at 8:39 am: Okay, I fucking LOVED smoking for the majority of the time I smoked. I thought I would always smoke and had no plans to quit…

Then one of my mothers friends died of lung cancer. Then another of emphesema. Then another, and another. And I knew in my heart I had a good twenty years left of smoking before it killed me. And I thought 'that isnt enough time'.

I also was starting to suffer some of the early signs of emphesema myself. At the age of 28.

So I did it. I stopped. First for a year, then I started again, and smoked for nine more months, then I did it again and I am still not smoking. And you know what? It's actually easy. Once you decide, and decide properly. If your heart isn't in it, it will be hard. But if it is, and you can keep your eye on the prize (i think the prize is not getting lung cancer…), it's easy as.

So if you really want to, you can do it and it will be easy. I promise! You can also try reading Allen Carr's Easyway to quit smoking, I have found it to be very helpful.

Good luck!!

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Wanderlust November 2, 2011 at 8:39 am: Everyone who has unhealthy habits knows they are unhealthy and battles them in their own private way. Not necessary for goody-goodies to come along and point it out, as if it never had crossed our minds.

I'm sure you'll deal with this when you're ready. You have been shouldering a heavy burden. One thing at a time.

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I see dead people. On my imaginary iPhone. – RRSAHM

I see dead people. On my imaginary iPhone.

by Lori Dwyer on March 25, 2010 · 23 comments

Hi all,

Big *sigh*. It’s my sad duty to inform you we have yet another entrant into the ‘Stupid Things Lori Does’ Files. That’s two in one week. I do it all for you, Followers, all for you….

Anyways, some of you might remember I like to fancy myself as a bit of an amateur ghost hunter. I love all that creepy stuff. So when a mate of ours told he had a truly awesome ghost piccie on his phone, taken in the Mushroom Tunnel at Picton, of course I wanted to see.

And now I’ll share it with you.

Creepy, huh? Cheeky thing, on the right of that guy who I definitely don’t have permission from to publish this.

Here’s a close up.

I passed it on, raved about it, even sent it to the psychic woman who runs Picton Ghost Tours. She was sucked in too. Some psychic- she certainly didn’t see this one coming.

Here’s a piccie of me. with the same ghost. In my friend Kimmy Ann’s garage. See her, to the right, in the background? (If I could PhotoShop, I’d add an arrow. I can’t)

Turns out, iPhone really does have an app for everything, even adding ghosts. Who woulda thunk it?

In my defence, the original was done exceptionally well, in a very haunted place. And I was not the only one sucked in. I swear. there were others. It’s just that I was the most vocal about it. As usual.

So, yeah. I see dead people. Just another reason I really, really need an iPhone.

Leave a Comment

{ 23 comments… read them below or add one }

Anonymous July 10, 2012 at 1:35 am: Haha dude that's me in the photo. I made this photo I'm
Nathan, yeah your right I did use the iPhone app haha but it was good fun while it lasted. Don't worry I give you permission too use my photo it's all good. Im keen too know what the ghost your physic said about it? If you wanna can email me its n.page@live.com.
P.s my mate said he types in picton tunnels and said I was came up in google so that's how I found this so random

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Brenda July 13, 2010 at 9:48 pm: You still need to buy ze iPhone. The End. Hehehe.

Happy Blog Carnival Day, Lorisan. Hehe.

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Steve July 13, 2010 at 6:25 pm: Wow. A virtual reality ghost. Which is kind of what ghosts are anyway. If iPhone bring out a clairvoyance app and one that produces ectoplasm I'm definitely going to buy one!

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Christie July 13, 2010 at 4:22 pm: Thank you for humiliating yourself again, JUST for us. We truly love you for it.
And there never was a more pressing reason to get an iPhone.

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Veronica July 13, 2010 at 3:59 pm: That's really cool. I would totally have been taken in too.

And sniff, I need an iPhone. I hear they're awesome and addictive, like crack, or good sex.

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Wanderlust July 13, 2010 at 2:49 pm: Still hilarious. All these months later. Still don't believe it's a scarf.

Sexy @ss button.

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Ratz March 30, 2010 at 2:27 pm: Damn!!!! Shame on me…. You got me in the beginning…. The first one actually looks good…. had it not been for the i- phone, the second one looks like that little ghost is following you next… scary???? would have been more exciting!!!!

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DaughteroftheStars March 28, 2010 at 3:18 pm: Oh my goodness, that would have had me completely fooled as well.

I am now scheming ways of how I can use this on my friends. Must have that app pronto!

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Jen March 26, 2010 at 9:21 am: you totally ROCK! I downloaded this app, put the little ghost girl into a photo of my daughter in an excavator, in the background of course…sent it to my husband…totally freaked him out. He showed it to work mates, which freaked them out..then he rings and I PML! That is the first time in YEARS that I have been able to ROLL him! YAY! He did call me some names :p but then said he would be stealing that one off my phone for his iphone when he got home! ROFL.

Thanks Lori!

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kbxmas March 26, 2010 at 4:44 am: Scarf…. fascinating.

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alliecat March 25, 2010 at 10:30 pm: OMG there really IS an app for everything.

It did look rather real, in your defence!

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Brenda March 25, 2010 at 8:37 pm: *the*. I blame the iPhone. That's my excuse and I'm sticking with it.:D

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Brenda March 25, 2010 at 8:35 pm: Buy ze iPhone, buy ze iPhone, buy ze iPhone. Come to darkside, Lori. Mwahahahahaha.

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Heather March 25, 2010 at 4:53 pm: seriously? the creepiest ghost to use for an app. Made my stomach drop when I saw it. I was thinking the photo was the hubby holding out his arm so that you could photoshop yourself into the photo later.

Yes…get an iphone. I'm not sure how I lived without one. Although I'm ready to hide my husbands from him when he gets home from work.

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Sarah March 25, 2010 at 4:11 pm: Bwahahaha ya dag!

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Mee2 March 25, 2010 at 3:32 pm: Me too. Totally suckered. What's a scarf??

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Jen March 25, 2010 at 2:47 pm: Rofl! I am definitely going to be downloading that app in about 1 minute :p. I've also given you some blog love check out my blog to collect

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gem88 March 25, 2010 at 2:41 pm: OMG… i was suckered in aswell….
i can just see the i told you so's comming….

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Thea March 25, 2010 at 2:39 pm: Awwww dammit!! You had me sucked in for awhile there. I love that stuff too!!

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Lori March 25, 2010 at 2:29 pm: Kristin it's called a SCARF. Do you have those in America?

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kbxmas March 25, 2010 at 2:24 pm: I'm more concerned with the fact that the iPhone ghost seems to be strangling you with a shadowy belt of darkness. Or is that some strange neckclamp device Kimmy has you locked in? And why? Did you threaten her? I'd feel better if you could learn to photoshop that out. Okay?

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Courtney March 25, 2010 at 8:39 pm: This comment has been removed by the author.

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Courtney March 25, 2010 at 8:38 pm: He he he he I told steve, We were going to treck up to the mushie tunnel and check it out this weekend… I still believe and still want to be counted in when the tour of the quarantine station goes ahead. its $44pp Mwahawhawhawww.

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