Monthly Archives: May 2016
The Feather Boa and the Steam Locomotive. – RRSAHM
The Feather Boa and the Steam Locomotive.
What do a feather boa and a steam train have in common?
Absolutely nothing.
What’s so special about this photo?
You’ll have to watch the clip and see…
Carina Tweets here, and blogs at Tales of a Travelling Jeweller.
Previous post: Needy
Next post: And So This Is Christmas- Part One.
Suplication – RRSAHM
Suplication
“Hey boy take a look at me… let me dirty up your mind.
I’ll strip away your heart from here, let’s see what I can find…”
Queer, Garbage.
“People always afraid of what’s different.”
Cool Runnings.
A few weeks ago now I blogged about the somewhat disturbing trend I’d noticed whilst Internet dating. It’s actually quite logical. Police officers tend to be the alpha male type. And the alpha male types tend to be into a little bit of hardcore bondage.
To offset how very uncomfortable and vulnerable it made me feel, offers of coppers tying me up with rope; I reacted with depreciating humor. Not self depreciating humor… just depreciating.Cause that’s what we do.
Now, it’s coming to my attention more and more that the people who read this blog are very, very cool. I’ve always thought that– how could I not, when every comment and email I receive speaks to that being true? But the results of this survey are making me realize what a liberal, open minded, honest bunch of people you lot really are. And that is fucking awesome. (Surveys still open, by the way).
Every now and then, someone will leave me a comment that ruffles my feathers and challenges me slightly. I always fight the urge to dismiss them as ‘trolling’, or call them a dickhead just because they don’t agree with me. If something’s making me feel bitchy, there’s probably an issue there I need to take a look at. And this comment, left on that post about coppers and bondage, was no different…
“Not that you have a judgmental attitude to go along with your complete lack of knowledge of BDSM. Oh no, not at all. Can you feel the sarcasm? I do hope so.
I have no issue with your not being kinky, to each their own, but just because it’s not your thing doesn’t make these people creepy or irresponsible or disturbed. That’s your own internal prejudice, and this post is exceptionally narrow minded. Go and do some research before applying such labels to anyone who doesn’t want to fuck the same way you do.” (Edited to correct spelling).
I freaking hate it when people are right.
And this commenter couldn’t have been more correct. I knew nothing about BDSM. That much was evident in my surprise at the new knowledge that this was actually a ‘culture’… there was more to this than sex.
I despise willful ignorance. And with an Internet connection, in the year 2012, there’s very little excuse for it. This was so terrifying because I knew nothing at all about it… and that’s the kind of attitude in the human race that is, in the long run, responsible for starting wars and spilling blood.
So I did a little bit of research. And, as one usually finds when they delve into the human psyche, what I found was nothing short of fascinating.
Forget sex. This has nothing to do with sex. What I mistook for role playing is a lifestyle for some people– and here is where I am going to apologize for not acknowledging that in the first place.
The Doc likes to say that everything is about sex except sex, which is about power. That’s a basic human truth. People feed on power, and it tends to bring out the worst in us. I guess that’s why the appeal of dominating someone seems to easy to understand. Even if it’s not something that gets you off, there are a million examples of it, and it’s a base truth is pop psychology– power is sexy. Power is heady and narcissistic and so easy to wield.
The talent would have to be in restraining it.
But while it’s easy to understand, in theory at least, the attraction of being the one who is dominant; it’s the role of the submissive that seems terrifying, difficult and almost impossible to understand. And yet, for someone in control of every aspect of every their life, with little direction from others, there is an appeal to it which I’ve written about before. The thrill of letting go. The wanton hedonism that comes with feeling like an object.
I read The Story of O, infamous long before 50 Shades of Grey, and fond myself marveling at the language used, the lack of vulgarity and crude nouns where synonyms can be used instead, exemplified by the slight lilt of the French–to–English translation of a book penned forty years ago. I find blogs, of course, ones that I could spend hours reading for the simple fact that the lives chronicled in them are so different to mine. I stumble across the online journals of women who are married, who have been with their Master for years and live a normal suburban life when they’re not naked and collared in the presence of their husband. I discover women who are single and have chosen submission, who are preparing and training themselves as they search for someone who would be compatible… a yin to their yang. A darkness to their light.
And again, I’m not talking about sex… this has nothing to do with sex. There is an admirable element of self improvement and self denial, of restraint and discipline. The practice of yoga is encouraged, as is the perfection of poses that streamline the body and can be assumed upon request or demand.
Somewhere deep in the shady underground of the interwebs where fluorescent mushrooms bloom in the darkness, I find a submissive prayer, a rosary to be said in meditation. A supplication to one’s master as if they were a God. The deliberate and careful use of language within BDsM fascinates me– I resonate with people who play intermiddley with the English language, who flirt with capital letters and double entrendes.
Don’t get me wrong– I saw plenty of kinky perversions too. And why yes, I did feel all kinds of weird and creepy “doing research on fetish sites”, even if it was legit. (It’s right up there with telling the salesman at Harvey Norman you want a high quality HD webcam and feeling as though you should add “it’s not
for that!”). But the implicit kink that comes with wearing a dog collar somehow feels far more wholesome than the Christian Domestic Discipline fetish movement that involves God–fearing men spanking their middle aged wives into premenopausal submission.
Sarcasm (laced with fear) aside, I’ve discovered a subculture seething with base psychology. And, as we know– I love that kinda thing. Bizarrely and unexpectedly, I’ve found myself with a genuine respect for a lot of women who act as full time submissive slaves, in the same way I found myself startled at the admiration I had for women who are paid to strip. There’s nothing easy or simple about it– it appears to be a matter of dedication and hard work, of being as in control of one’s mind as completely as to let someone else control you, to trust someone complexity as to allow them that kind of power of your body, to believe they know you intuitively enough to make your decisions for you. It was difficult to find a great deal of information about the psychology of the practice and the way the inherent differences between makes and females serve to strengthen submissive relationships… But perhaps I just didn’t know where to look.
Before we all go taking massive leaps to sordid conclusions- I find myself so amazed by the trust required to actively practice as a submissive simply because I could never imagine having that kind of implicit faith in someone. I’d add ‘ever again’ to the end of that sentence, but truly I don’t recall if I had that intense of a souls agreement with my husband, or not. And neither the person I am now nor the one I was in the Before is capable of that level of selflessness or patience. I require too much time to myself, my temper burns far too hot when I feel my freedom is restricted.
Human nature never ceases to strike me as incredible. I’ve discovered a whole slice of humanity I never knew existed, a mindset that’s akin to a religion. I dislike it when I discover a flat spot of understanding in myself. A big raspberry-blowing kind-of thank you to those of you who kick my arse into line when you happen to see it, too.
Leave a Comment
{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
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September 19, 2012 at 5:13 pm -
Hi Lori
What about the vast sea of us sexless folk. Can your website stop to ponder on our slice of humanity one day? Ta
P - September 17, 2012 at 5:50 pm
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With that post, I didn't take it that you were being naive about bondage. I just took it that it was probably triggering to you given your past experiences.
I do think it's interesting to learn about different fetishes though, definitely
- September 17, 2012 at 5:35 pm
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Sometimes, when sexual acts are discussed I will scrunch up my face. My sex life is very mundane. I usually think a lot about the confessions shared later though with envy. Mr Black isn't interested in spicing things up, and I am frankly bored. The idea of being dominated thrills me. But I too am a very firey person and I think there would have to be a clear on/off time because I'm too much of a smart arse to live my life out in that way. At least, at the moment I am.
I am sexually sheltered, I couldn't even tell you what kind of fetishes there are! - September 17, 2012 at 4:19 pm
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How annoying to be told when we're being narrow-minded, but I love how you moved past that and opened up your mind to something that was unknown to you.
BDSM is indeed quite fascinating. Like you, I couldn't see myself in the submissive role (which can apply to men or women alike, though we tend to picture women as the submissive part).
But oddly enough I can't imagine feeling comfortable in the dominant role either. Imagine the kind of responsibility you're burdened with when someone places that kind of absolute trust in you…
Great, thought-provoking post.
- September 17, 2012 at 11:43 am
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Love how you have such an open mind and that encourages others to do the same.
How much better all variety of relationships would be if we were not so quick to judge.x - September 17, 2012 at 11:40 am
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You would never guess it, but I actually work full-time for a 'fetish site', perhaps one you came across in your research. Whenever I tell people that without initially elaborating, they always look me up and down, images of whips and chains fluttering across their eyeballs, and ask, 'Work for a fetish site? Doing what exactly?' The reality is far more mundane, I actually fulfil a far more IT-than-SM role, maintaining the websites, editing digital video and images and doing various admin-things. Ho hum.
Now, I've always been a bit odd (not so much in a fetish sense, more in a personality type way) and I've always been ridiculously open-minded to other people's oddness. The fetishes I am exposed to every day don't really weird me out – like you, they fascinate me in a psychological sense. What might appear odd to one person is another's normal. Some things that even I thought at first were 'kinda weird' now just slide off my back (ducks, water, etc). I always wondered what drew people to certain things, and I've had the opportunity to find out from those people how it actually came about. It's always very interesting.
I dont know – I've always been of the opinion that if it hurts no one and makes a person happy, then who am I to judge? Plus, it's kept me in work for the past five years…
- September 17, 2012 at 8:13 am
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Who are we to judge, right? I still love reading your posts. So honest and open.
Previous post: Maybe Not
Next post: Fly With Me.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: The Crappest GiveAway Ever (really, this time)
Back. – RRSAHM
Back.
I just needed a break. I just needed to… stop for a while.
I think I needed to prove to myself that I can still feel things without needing to write them down, without having to air them publicly.
My blog has become so much a part of me… I started to wonder if I existed without it. If I would be different without it.
I’m not different. Still just me. Only lesser, perhaps, for not expressing myself.
***
I did Christmas, and it was awesome. The kidlets loved it. I woke up Christmas morning at my mum’s house for the first time in fifteen years.
I remind myself that it’s okay to miss people. Especially when the time spent with them is all the sweeter, the more intense and satisfying. I soak up their company and appreciate every second of being around them.
The kidlets are happy to be left behind, happy to be in the care of thier grandmothers for a while. The Most Amazing Man and I pack up the car and head down the Great Ocean Road. We camp for days next to a river, cooking meals on a camp stove and being lulled to sleep by the distant crashing of ocean waves.
New Years Eve, in an attempt to escape gentle murmur of people in the campground, we find ourselves hiking over sand hills to the beach. the two of us lay on a picnic blanket and look at the immenseness of the stars. The sky is huge, the stars pocketed in its engulfing depth. We spot shooting stars, not just one but six between us. Just after midnight someone in the oval nearby lets off foreworks and the bang and fall, blue and red dropping over the dunes.
I miss my kids. I still feel like shit. I’m a bit afraid of everything right now, and I hate that. I feel like i used up the brave I had moving to Melbourne, and i haven’t found any more yet.
But I’m working on it.
And I’m writing again.
Leave a Comment
{ 22 comments… read them below or add one }
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January 12, 2014 at 3:00 am -
I love this picture of you! Glad you are writing again and hope you enjoyed your vacation! This bridge and the marsh reminds mea little of thebridge to the beach in Ogunquit ME I walked across my first trip there that was part of why I moved up to ME the following summer.(left 4years later-kinda wish I’d stayed)
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January 11, 2014 at 11:38 pm -
Checked in just to see. . . Glad you were able to come back. Don’t feel its mandatory or owed to some one. Take care of you.
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January 11, 2014 at 9:04 pm -
You look beautiful.
And I relate to a lot of what you’re writing, so thank you for writing it.
xxxx
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January 10, 2014 at 12:35 pm -
Good to hear from you. I know that weird relationship with the writing, starting to wonder if only the things you write about, only the observed parts of your self and life, are real. Writing reveals, but it also casts a shadow over that which is not said, the stories not told, the moments that do not get recorded but fall into memory or dream.
Sarah K Reece recently posted…Still here
- January 9, 2014 at 4:18 pm
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Yay. Youre back. And you’re ok. Well, at least much more so than I took the silence to mean. I was worried.
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January 9, 2014 at 10:50 am -
That photo? Just stupendous. Your smile is beautiful. There is hope. Always hope. It seems like 2 steps forward, one step back (or worse) but you will heal in the end. I’m positive. I’ve been reading your blog for a couple of years now and love the person you are.
- January 8, 2014 at 11:06 pm
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Good to see you back, I have been checking in and was getting a little worried. I think you are brave, even if you don’t feel it yourself.
- January 8, 2014 at 5:58 pm
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Take your time, take care of yourself, but remember this: by writing about your depression you have no idea who might be reading who feels exactly the same, and just might go for help because of you. You’re also helping friends and family to look behind the curtain and understand what depression really looks like. I think that’s more powerful than you realise. Keep up the good work.
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January 8, 2014 at 9:46 am -
Welcome back Lori, still such a beautiful writer and beautiful soul. I think of you often, and I hope peace weaves its way back into your heart soon x
Donna recently posted…My one word mantra for 2014 -
January 7, 2014 at 10:33 pm -
I am so glad you checked in Lori.
Depression is such a struggle. Hang in there and if you get any break at all and if you can, grab hold of it with all of your strength and pull yourself out. -
January 7, 2014 at 10:30 am -
I love the way you write. Just wanted to tell you that.
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January 7, 2014 at 9:03 am -
*hugs* glad you got a break. Am child free at the moment if you are home and want a coffee xxx
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January 6, 2014 at 7:27 pm -
Welcome back.
I understand the feeling of running out of brave, and something that helps me sometimes is telling myself: “I’m terrified, and it’s okay but I’m going to do this thing anyway”.
Glad you had a lovely Christmas and a peaceful new year.
Trisha recently posted…A new year’s wish for 2014
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January 6, 2014 at 6:44 pm -
Welcome back! I’ve been worried about you – hope to see you in person soon.
And what a gorgeous photo of you – you look radiant.
Carly Findlay recently posted…New Year’s Eve/Studio 10 appearance -
January 6, 2014 at 1:28 pm -
It sounds like the brave needs a recharge. The camping sounded like a good way to do it.
Vanessa recently posted…Strip Taco -
January 6, 2014 at 1:12 pm -
Good to see you back!
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January 6, 2014 at 12:24 pm -
Good to see such a beautiful smile on your face. Glad you had a great Christmas. It was incredibly brave of you to move to Melbourne, so if you have used up all your bravery for a while that’s ok. It will grow back. Also if you feel a little bit broken sometimes, maybe it’s OK to let yourself feel that way. Your strength will grow back too. You have sailed the ship for so long alone through such treacherous waters, maybe you needed to get to safe harbour so you could let yourself fall apart. You will come back together again, new, fresh, beautiful and stronger than ever.
Sending all the love xoxoxo Pix -
January 6, 2014 at 11:41 am -
What a lovely way to start the new year. Sending you lots of brave until you find yours again. And its ok if you don’t find it all just enough.
C xx
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January 6, 2014 at 11:11 am -
What a wonderful way to bring in the new year. Sending you some fairy wishes and butterfly kisses lovely. I hope you find your brave again really soon, it is still there deep with in xx
Rhianna recently posted…Those rascally gremlins!!! -
January 6, 2014 at 11:08 am -
You’re back! I’ve missed reading you.
You look so beautiful and happy in the photo you posted. I hope you feel that on the inside again soon too -
January 6, 2014 at 4:48 am -
Welcome back! I missed you!
Marianne recently posted…Letter to my future… -
January 5, 2014 at 11:19 pm -
Welcome back
Previous post: Sick.
Next post: Last Week.
So Damn Cool I Need My Own Soundtrack. – RRSAHM
So Damn Cool I Need My Own Soundtrack.
Heya,
A few days ago, you may just have seen me all over Twitter and Instagram, with the likes of Mrs Woog, Nikki from Styling You, Emma’s Brain, Kelly from BeAFunMum, Brenda from MummyTime, Zoey from GoodGoog and Trish from My Little Drummer Boys. We were talking hair. We were, in fact, having a big girlie day at Barney Martin Hair (ooh la la!), compliments of Nice’n’Easy, Pantene and Wella.
Mrs Woog. Woog is Hungarian for ‘hot’. Apparently.
Barney Martin, hairdresser extraordinaire.
Perfect for me. I love this stuff. A bloggy day put with some of my favorite bloggers. A day in the city- which is becoming more and more of a rare commodity, the longer we are in Paradise; a road trip to fore-mentioned city with the awesome Emma’s Brain, who’s been one of my best mates since I was 15…. and someone to do something about this terrible hair of mine.
Seriously- I have bad hair. Fluffy and frizzy, without being curly. Dry and fine. And my morning bed head is, dead set, the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen…
Exhibit A. Rock on. I don’t have bad hair days. I just have hair days, with an occasional ‘good’ hair day thrown in.
Apoligies. Blogger is doing that annoying loading-photo-sideways-thing-again.
Anywoo. This is the Before shot….
Note the bad hair.
I volunteered for a colour. Because…. this is what I do. I am the queen of home hair colour. And Nice’n’Easy is my brand. Why…? Because.. well… it does the best job of covering grey hair. And I have been prematurely grey- very grey, if I let it grow out I’d look like Rogue– since I was 20. The shame. I blame my mother.
So. Nice’n’Easy, it seems, just got nice and easier. Foamy, instead of liquid. No drip, no mess, applicator is- dare I say it- squeezy fun to use.
This is Carl. With a C. He gave me a headjob finsihed off my hair dye, when it became apparent that I was doing a very bad job. Have you ever tried to dye your hair with 20 people watching you in the mirror…? No…? Goodness knows why not. I can assure you it was quite unsettling.
Anyway. After sneaking outside in my hair dye cape- which looked very Harry Potter- for numerous fags while my dye set, Carl with a C gave me a washout and a blow job. No… wait.. blow dry. It’s been a while, I get confused.
And the end result…?
Very, very pretty, even if I do say so myself. As Mrs Woog so succintly put it- “You look like a girl!”. Thanks so much Woog. Bite me.
Given the hair,a Charlie’s angels shot seemed not gratuitous but necessary…. call me Jaqui.
And here we are, bloggers infinitum. Glammed up.
There is nothing like a new hair colour and a blow dry to make you feel like a million bucks.
Hell, I felt so damn cool I needed my own soundtrack. This one, perhaps.
Or, ya know, not.
Coloured Clairol Nice n Easy Auburn, RRP $17.99
Styled Wella Pro Series Volume Mousse RRP $7.99
Wella pro series Volume Hairspray RRP $7.99
For Stockists 1800 028 280
Styled Wella Pro Series Volume Mousse RRP $7.99
Wella pro series Volume Hairspray RRP $7.99
For Stockists 1800 028 280
Leave a Comment
{ 23 comments… read them below or add one }
- July 21, 2011 at 7:56 pm
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I do believe I have video evidence of you doing this exact act 'singing your own soundtrack', all in it's technicolour glory, sound included.
I do take bribes, however…. xoxo - July 12, 2011 at 8:19 am
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It's gorgeous! I LOVE IT!
- July 4, 2011 at 8:16 pm
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Looking HOT in the city ladies!
- July 4, 2011 at 5:07 am
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You look beautiful!!
- July 3, 2011 at 11:03 am
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Super sweet post! You guys were looking rather Charlie's Angels-ish. Could have sworn that was going to be your YouTube soundtrack.
LOL @ Nikki's comment re your next assignment!Too cool. xxx Glad you enjoyed it, you gorgeous girl.
- July 3, 2011 at 4:21 am
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You are so cute! I too use Nice 'n Easy, light or medium ash blonde. But I think I need to start leaving it on longer cuz my friend could still see some grey
- July 3, 2011 at 1:30 pm
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Oooh! So pretty! I love it!
Yes, a girly day of new hair cut and some pampering does wonders for the soul! - July 2, 2011 at 10:40 pm
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Hawt, hawt, and hawt … looking forward to our next assignment!
- July 2, 2011 at 9:09 pm
- July 2, 2011 at 7:11 pm
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Sooooo cute! And you made me laugh. I can be so immature.
- July 2, 2011 at 6:40 pm
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I clicked on your soundtrack link. You are an evil woman. Lucky you look hot with your Angel hair.
- July 2, 2011 at 6:23 pm
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Fantabulous xxx
- July 3, 2011 at 2:07 am
- July 2, 2011 at 11:50 am
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Errrm and seeing as I said it before I obviously didn't think I needed to tell you you're gorgeous. You all are. I'm totally jealous you get invited to "all the cool parties"
- July 2, 2011 at 11:49 am
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How you described your hair…that's EXACTLY the way my hair is. It's not quite straight but not quite curly (you know where it curls nicely?). It frizzes up so freaking easily. And when I asked Bluey recently how I was "doing as a mother" his one and only complaint was that my "hair was too messy all the time"
Fuck.
My hair is also extremely fine. Like…my kids have more hair than me despite my hair being quite long.
I hate on all the bishes with gorgeous thick hair. Give me some! - July 2, 2011 at 10:31 am
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Oh, I love it Lori! Gorgeous!! I'm thinking of trying a home color to save some $$$. Maybe I'll give it a shot. You guys are all so glam. x
- July 2, 2011 at 10:17 am
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HA, blow job. That's my kind of hairstyle!
- July 2, 2011 at 10:10 am
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HAhahaha! Hair days.. You crack me up. You are a rockstar xxxx
- July 2, 2011 at 9:29 am
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What a fabulous day – darling!
I love the Charlie's Angels shot.
- July 2, 2011 at 9:19 am
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Just gorgeous!!
- July 2, 2011 at 12:08 pm
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Gorgeous too, but you already know that.
- July 2, 2011 at 12:08 pm
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LOl, gratis! Thank you x you've definitely got a way with words, and I love it!
- July 2, 2011 at 11:40 am
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Your makeover was rockin sister! and you looked like a STUNNING girl xx
Previous post: Hanging… On…In….There.
Next post: LadyBugs.
Finger Lickin' Good. – RRSAHM
Finger Lickin’ Good.
“Stick one of those fingers on each up hand up,
Now be proud to be… out of your mind, and out of control,
One more time, sing it with me, how does it go?”
The Real Slim Shady, Kate Miller-Heidke.
This is the post where I not only sell out, I admit I’m selling out. And I’m OK with that. I always have been– this isn’t the first time the whole blogging/sponsors/ sell out thing has come up on RRSAHM… I’ll try not to repeat myself.
Some of you may have seen this article in the SMH last week, talking mummy blogging and how much brands kiss our arses. Woogs looked glam and Eden looked all funky hot. Eden happened to mention that she, like a lot of other bloggers, declined an event invitation, knowing it wasn’t something she would blog about, not being relevant to her readers. Which is awesome- that’s what we do, as our own editors and publishers. We make our own calls.
But the journalist took that one and ran with it, I say. They showcased the blog, Twitter and FB feeds of another blogger, the lovely Samelia’s Mum, who did attend KFC, and blogged about it turn– the general vibe of the article was that she sold out for chicken.
Bjerk.
Had the journal on this article searched my Twitter feed from the day, they would have found sentiments comparable to those expressed by Samelia’s Mum– basic chit chat about the bits and pieces (of chicken) that KFC were showing off.
Did anyone really think the chick with blog covered in jellybeans would turn down an invite from KFC on healthy eating principles…? No? Good. We are all the same page here.
To be honest, when I first received the invite, I felt… dirty. Or greasy, as the case may be. I did have a moment of “ummm”, “ahhh” “what will people think of me?”… then I cracked another can of Coke and forgot about it. The Twitter stream on the morning of the event was a graveyard… It seemed no one was actually brave enough to Tweet where they were going to (sell outs!), and once it was revealed, the number of bloggers who came out to say they had knocked the invite back were… terrifying. I felt like the only girl in high school munching on hot chips while everyone else took sensible bites of their salad sandwiches.
But I accepted the KFC invite. In fact, I accept most invites. I really do attend the opening of an envelope– and I’m OK with that. For a couple of reasons that are very valid, to me– and I’m the only that counts.
Number One– We all know I’m hardly the healthy eating advocate. I’m a learner, an absorber, a sponge… I like to know things. If a company wants to bring me into their space and show me how awesome they are, I’ll go with an open mind and see what they have to say. Just because I attend does not mean I’ll blog about it– you lot would be so, so bored if I did.
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| Deep fried canola flowers. Not really. |
And for the eternal record– KFC actually was quite interesting… even if back of house raw chicken prep made me squirm. While blogger Trish loves the support they are giving Aussie farmers, I respect the fact they are not actually as full of shit as one might first believe. As they firmly portrayed to us, they’re not trying to be a ’healthy’ food option– it’s fried chicken, for canola’s sake. They’re aware that their food is used as a treat, and should be utilised as such. They don’t market specifically to children and are the only major fast food chain in Australia to not offer plastic tat toys with their kids meals. As I’ve said before– and if I haven’t, then I should have– here, we eat healthily but moderately. Having few issues with weight or sugar levels in our extended family, I’m teaching my kids that they can eat any full fat food, as long as they keep moving. I’m OK with a certain amount of sugar and fat in our diets– it’s additives and preservatives that bother me. While the body can burn off sugar and fat, preservatives and chemical additives are simply stored– the human body isn’t sure how to process them, and it will be a few hundred years before we can.
Number Two– I am freaking lonely, and sometimes I need to get out of this house. If you’re a parent to small children, you know how intense the craving for adult company can be, especially if you’re the only adult in the household. My kids go to daycare three days a week and spend one day with their paternal grandmother– if an invite comes for one of those days, I’m there. Why wouldn’t I be, really…? Someone is going to pay for my travel, food and expenses, in a nice venue, with other woman who I adore, or with interesting new people to meet– logic tells me that as a single mum on a limited budget who has lost all her closest friendships, passing up the chance to socialize on the house is just illogical.
Which brings me to Number Three.
I like free stuff.
What…?
Doesn’t everybody like free stuff, especially when it’s practical? Hair dye, toothpastes, pantry items, computer needs, toys and books and movies and clothes and days out for my kids. What do I have to do in return, you ask? Well… not much. Show up. Be an interactive part of whatever experience or product the brand is promoting. If I like, I can Tweet or Instagram or FaceBook anything that takes my interest. I go with an open mind, and then I tell the truth. If it’s something I find interesting or relevant or touches me, or something I think you jellybeans would groove on, then I blog it. And if not, I don’t.
It’s a commonly held principle amongst bloggers that, to quote the so-beautiful-she-can’t-be-real Lady Melbourne, “you can’t pay the rent with shoes.” To a certain extent, I’ll beg to differ– toothpaste won’t pay my rent, no. But if it’s practical or necessary, then the money I would have otherwise spent to purchase it does go to the rent or the bills or the kitchen table or where ever its needed. With two tiny kids to feed, clothe and protect… as I said, I’m OK with that.
Speaking of the munchkins, the low blow comments that seem to follow every article about mum blogging were evident– hey, even TV presenters who featured us just a few weeks beforehand get all weird about the mummy bloggers. Don’t we have anything better to do. We are neglecting our children, being on that computer all the time. We are exploiting our children, writing about them.
To all that, I say– if having their stories shared with people who have a genuine investment in them is the worst exploitation my children suffer in their lives– massive bonus. And, in truth, my children are minor characters on this blog, and they will probably shrink further as they grow older. I’m far too narcissistic to blog about my kids all the time– this is my story, not theirs. And, again, if having a detailed, truthful, if not painful, written account of their formative years available to them at an older is the most traumatizing thing that ever happens to them– again, massive win.
I have far greater concerns for my children than those that result from blogging about them. And, quite frankly, without the extra income and the social interaction blogging gives to me, I’d be a work at least part time. Same amount of cash, same amount of childcare. Less enjoyment and fulfillment for me. And the kids would not have the ample collection of Disney DVD’s that they currently possess. In fact, I think they would complain if I stopped exploiting them– we’re supposed to going to the movies next month. (Again, thanks Disney. You rock.)
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| Lori hides from |
Don’t I have anything better to do? Maybe. Don’t you? How much time does the average person spend a day engaging in passive entertainment– watching TV, for example, or reading a book? I don’t watch TV, and books are difficult to find time to read these days. So I’m simply entertaining myself, the way most people do; its just that I happen to be creating something at the same time.
You’re into Home and Away or playing the piano or collecting ceramic cows… I’m into my laptop. Let’s all agree that all our hobbies and interests are, broken down, probably pretty pointless. That’s the whole point of them– the essence of a hobby is to find an activity with which to enjoy yourself, right? It doesn’t have to change the world. And if you happen to get paid for that hobby and you still enjoy it– ’nother bonus there.
And, while some days my never ending email inbox most certainly feels like work; I can still classify this as a hobby. I thoroughly enjoy it. It improves my self esteem. I could, potentially, become a faceless post farmer and write for nothing but the cash– but it wouldn’t be anything like this place is. Just to begin with, I wouldn’t have you lot. And I’d be having nowhere near as much fun.
I don’t earn as much off this site as I should, I’ve been told; but I like it that way. I’ve kept my ad space rates low on purpose, because I like having them filled with the businesses of work at home parents and small entrepreneurs, cloth nappy sellers and Etsy stores.
I choose my review posts and giveaways on a case by case basis, and I apply all the following factors to the equation– do I like this product? Do I want this product? How many giveaways do I have scheduled for the next few weeks? Is it a PR company I’ve worked with before or a small business owner doing the grueling email outs themselves? Are they Australian owned, organic or natural or environmentally friendly? Is it some awesome new product that I think is way cool, or I know a lot of people would use? Will my readers get any enjoyment out of this post, or will it just tick the off?
I throw in all those factors, and come out with a price. It’s a sliding scale. The less I want to write or publish it, or the more it will irritate my readers, the more I charge– but having said that, sometimes I charge nothing at all.
Case by case, sliding scale– I think it’s the only way to ensure that the products and brands featured on your blog are consistent with that inner thread of yourself that weaves its way through ever post you publish. The accusations of ‘selling out’ have been floating around for at least two and half years now, since I first got here.
Selling out to what, selling out to who? The only person I’m selling out to is me– and as long as I pay me well… I’m OK with that. We all make our own calls- the only people who have to be OK with them is us.
Coming soon… the post where I didn’t sell out. Stay tuned.
Leave a Comment
{ 18 comments… read them below or add one }
- June 11, 2012 at 1:48 am
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A free KFC event? I want to blog now. "Free food is good food." – me.
- June 8, 2012 at 11:38 pm
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Even though you didn't exactly do a post about KFC, it made me want some (at 11.30pm). And the ad on TV. And I only had a fried egg for dinner. But besides all that who are they to say we've sold out if we accept a free lunch? I bet some of those knockers have accepted a Chinese banquet from a corporation and didn't question whether they had "sold out".
- June 8, 2012 at 11:17 pm
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Loving the honesty…. but now I want some KFC!
- June 8, 2012 at 10:05 pm
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Well said hon!
And how much did I look like a snob in that article, dissing the invite? The journo accidentally forgot to write the rest of what I said …. I live two hours away and didn't have the time. Oh – and the morsel about bloggers going to meet-ups and events to MEET UP with other bloggers. Yeah.
You don't have to justify yourself to anyone.
XX
- June 8, 2012 at 7:42 pm
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Hi Lori. Katy here – I helped to organize this KFC event. It’s fantastic that you took away the transparency message from the event – this is exactly what we wanted to demonstrate. Just to clarify for other readers, bloggers were not paid to attend or blog about this event.
- June 8, 2012 at 7:14 pm
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I hear you and I get you. As another single Mum Blogger, it makes perfect sense – and cents – to me.
- June 8, 2012 at 7:09 pm
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So I take it KFC wasn't good enough to blog about?
- June 8, 2012 at 6:17 pm
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Fuck 'em. People suck sometimes
- June 8, 2012 at 5:57 pm
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Well said Lori.
My kids love the exploitation I force upon them , I hardly buy DVD's either . - June 8, 2012 at 4:55 pm
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Hey Lori!
I aspire to be just like you. I hope to follow in your footsteps & display the same values & ethics you do. I too would like to earn a living, is it preferable to get on benefits? I think not & as long as you stay true to yourself then you have no one to answer to. - June 8, 2012 at 1:14 pm
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A-freaking-MEN.
- June 8, 2012 at 11:58 am
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Never mind what the rest of the world thinks. You have only you and those little ones to answer to and for. You have come thru the fire and are finely tempered from the experience. Someday i hope to meet you and talk with you for hours into the sunset. I think you could teach me a lot and I want to learn it from you.
- June 8, 2012 at 11:51 am
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You rock. I wish I did go to the KFC thing but I didn't know you were going!
- June 8, 2012 at 11:25 am
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I am going to give you a great big hug the next time I see you… probably at Disney!
- June 8, 2012 at 10:22 am
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Great post Lori! Hey, who doesn't like a free lunch every now and then? Pfft to the detractors. I don't think you're a sell out.
- June 8, 2012 at 9:59 am
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I couldn't do KFC, but then I wouldn't eat it anyways
But then, I did a sponsored post for GHD, even though I think they're over priced and overhyped. For the dollars.
Yo.
- June 8, 2012 at 8:42 am
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My God! Too many people have too much time on their hands, too many opinions on others' lives, and too little common sense of any kind. Please keep on doing what you do – any way YOU want to do it. F*** 'em if they can't take a joke!
- June 8, 2012 at 10:27 am
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Wohoo for the sell out… this is a fun place to be… well, it can be
Previous post: The Money Matters
Next post: Somebody That I Used To Know
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Falling Into Place
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Crowning.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Crowning.
The Catalogue of Loss – RRSAHM
The Catalogue of Loss
A whole year in, and things shift and change and slide into perspective.
I begin to catalogue my losses, all the things I am grieving for. I tally up what this has cost me. Because now, twelve months on, and I can let go of any lingering hope that things will change, that things will revert to normal, that the people who no longer love me will forgive me.
It takes a long time for shock like that to dissipate. A year, it seems, before you start to see things clearly.
It hurts to think of what I’ve lost, and it’s natural to shy away from it. But there comes a point where you have to look it in the face… letting go, so you can move on.
I am not the person I used to be, and some people seem to love me less for it… but it’s not something that can be helped. I miss the Purple Lori as much as they do. Occasionally, people mention that they’d like me ‘how I used to be’. And that hurts too… because the Purple Lori is gone, for good now, and if I could I’d bring her back. But that’s the equivalent of raising the dead, and that’s impossible.
I miss the friends I used to have. All my friendships are different now, and few of them feel genuine. Two of my closest girlfriends, my bridesmaids, friends of mine for over ten years… I’ve lost them both. One hasn’t spoken to me for eight months. No reason, no argument, no fall out… she just stopped calling, and I was still too far in a fog of grief of pain to make the effort. Charlie the shrink tells me it’s easier for people to avoid me. Dealing with me, seeing me, talking to me… it hurts because they can see my pain. Having no contact with me at all, they still deal with their guilt… but that’s much easier to ignore, much easier to turn away from completely if I’m not there, reminding them all the time.
And that other girlfriend I spoke of…? It happens with all friendships, most friendships, eventually, and it may have happened anyway. But she has drifted away from me, not nearly as enamored in this new Lori as she was in the Lori Before- I’m different, I’ve changed, she is busy… these things happen. Again, I understand that… I don’t like me much either.
Two friendships, that maybe I didn’t really need, that maybe I’m better off without… I know all the platitudes; I know that it’s them, not me with the problem…. so save the niceties for some other blogger, please.
Two of my own friendships, added to all those other things… the extended network of Tony’s friends; my Purple house and Purple life; my vision of the future, my five year plan; my sense of stability, safety and trust.
It just keeps adding up. The cost of it, the toll of that one moment of madness… the longer things linger, the more that choking dust of confusion settles… that first loss just keeps compounding. And the catalogue of loss, it just grows and grows and grows.
Leave a Comment
{ 20 comments… read them below or add one }
- February 1, 2012 at 11:43 am
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I know you said you don't want the platitudes, but it just makes me so mad that ppl do that, just turn away from someone in pain.
I guess Loss isn't any one thing, but a bunch of things all rolled up together.
- January 30, 2012 at 8:19 pm
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I'm not the same person any more, of course I'm not. How can something so awful happen to a person and not leave a mark.
My friends have all gone. It's too much for them. They don't want to deal with it. The last friend who left, she couldn't understand that I'm angry at the world. That I loathe it that other people don't have three dead children. I LOATHE IT that my 3 children are dead but theirs are not. So she's left too. So that she can enjoy her busy life with her 2 (living) children. I'm too much for her and I'm not the person I used to be. She even said that she'd hoped things would go back to how they were. I was stunned. Completely stunned. She really didn't get it at all.
- January 25, 2012 at 10:30 pm
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I'm sorry Lori. It isn't fair that the fallout is so great. My wish would be that everyone in your life would rally around you – rather than pulling away. That sucks.
Lots of love. - January 25, 2012 at 6:40 pm
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I could never imagine doing this to a friend who had been through as much as you?! Shocking.. And don't ever apologise to anyone for who you are now or what you feel now til they walk in your shoes x
- January 25, 2012 at 5:58 pm
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Hi Lori. Two of my closest friends lost their father/fatherinlaw on Monday and so reading your post reminds me, spurs me on to make sure I don't give up on them however dark their grief is, and however changed, temporarily and permanently their relationship with the world is.
- January 25, 2012 at 4:20 pm
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I've started following your posts of late. It gives me a broad idea of what to expect in the future. It's only been 3 months for me since I lost Her. Five month since She was diagnosed with a very aggressive GBM. I wonder if the hurt will ever go away.
- January 25, 2012 at 4:09 pm
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i *love* Annie's comment and i agree with it wholeheartedly.
people come into your life for a reason [or a season as the saying goes], they stay as long as they need to and then yes they leave. however when they leave, others take their place because they are what you need now. it may not be obvious straight away why some have left and others have taken up residence in their absence but believe me that is a reason for it. even with all that being said, it hurts when people leave our lives, seemingly with no real reason but you're right Lori, it says more about them than you.
and then some people come and never leave.
just remember, that even when you feel it, you're never alone.
~x~
- January 25, 2012 at 4:02 pm
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Honey, some people – MANY people – are just crap at dealing with loss, and more importantly, dealing with those left behind after loss.
Kind of crazy really, since death is one of those imperatives we all smack up against in some way, shape or form.
You've moved ahead of and away from them; they're not ready to deal, and they're at least able to recognise that, even if they can't articulate it very well or gracefully.
We *all* change, and there's nothing like a hefty dose of loss to shift us through a few transitions. The person you are now, the person you're becoming, will attract the perfect people for you.
Hang in there, gorgeous. x
- January 26, 2012 at 1:02 am
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Hi Lori, Loss of long term friendships is very sad, however I honestly believe that new friends are on the way to you. I have also experienced similar situations as you over the years and have always found that it was for the best in the end. Good things will happen, just hang in there!
Nicky Singh.
- January 25, 2012 at 1:59 pm
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I understand this. Not to the same level because not near as much has changed with me, but I am losing people left right and center from my life and it hurts. I don't understand it, and it makes me feel so pathetically desperate because I just want a fucking friend and so I am clinging to what I do have (and probably sending them running).
All I can think is there is something wrong with me. That people don't want to be my friend for a reason, and well, it doesn't make you feel too good about yourself.I do see a change in you, but I don't see a person to like less. I see some wonderful new things about you. Nothing that makes me shy away, want to cross the road to avoid you. I really do think they are missing out and it sucks that they are making you miss out too.
- January 25, 2012 at 12:35 pm
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It's shit and I'm sorry.
- January 25, 2012 at 11:00 am
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Sometimes friends have to leave to let better ones enter your life.
And if it means anything, I love you just the way you are.
x
- January 25, 2012 at 10:47 am
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Lori, its not about quantity sweets, quality will always win. It hurts to lose people you thought cared but people are human and some cannot deal with things like others do.
Think about all the new friendships you have made. You are a strong beautiful woman who may have a burning heart, but she uses her heart for good.
First and foremost you need to become your own friend.
xx - January 25, 2012 at 10:24 am
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I feel the same sometimes. I wish you could just take all of the amazing parts of your life, keep them and somehow re-do the shitty parts, but change them for the better so you are just filled with happy memories. But it is the bad that makes the good seem oh so good and while we are living, we'l have to put up with the bad.
- January 25, 2012 at 8:53 am
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Thinking of you.
- January 25, 2012 at 8:41 am
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For all those you lose, you free up space to form new relationships. Relationships with people who come into you life because they are what you need now. Your losses are huge, immeasurable, but never lose sight of new gains. Start a list now of what you have gained, not just new people, but new realisations, new coping skills and new anything else that comes to mind. You will be surprised. Love to you xxx
- January 25, 2012 at 8:36 am
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Its as if a line gets drawn and some people can work out how to jump on over but others will always be left behind. I think when stuff happens you suddenly lose the ability to do small talk, to discuss things that seemed important before dont rate now and people dont know what to do with that….once the 'busy-ness' of the a death vanishes people cant offer practical things to do and only a few know how to do the other stuff. It must be lonely x
- January 25, 2012 at 6:43 pm
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I know that you wouldn't have had room for me in The Before, so the loss of those who have left has been my gain. I have watched you grow & become a strong, independent woman who is able to face most days with courage & grace.
I'm with AnnieB25, now you can start with your "Pros" list. Ummm, you "met" me, you've started a new career with blogging, you travel to blogging conferences, you're meeting new people ALL THE TIME!!, you've moved homes, you've taken Bump & Chop on an outing – just the 3 of you & had a wonderful time… you can add to this as you want. It's a list that's looking pretty good in my eyes. I met a woman who said that life is like a train journey; you climb into a carriage at the start of that journey, others will climb into your carriage, they will step out of your carriage, you will change carriages, you will see them in a different carriage to you, you may never see them again, you will take your children on their first train ride & you will send them on their own journey.
You made the Purple Life & as you have grown you have made a life in the Tiny Train Town. You will continue to grow & change, that's what we do. Wouldn't it be horrible to be the same person you were at say 5 or 15 or 25 with the same ideas you had back then??
Wow – for someone who doesn't say much, I've twittered on for a while now.
(I know – it sucks, it just sucks all the time. It's their problem, not yours!!) (X) - January 25, 2012 at 11:12 am
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I can relate to this my sweet girl, not exactly on the same level but I do understand how bittersweet it as you lose your closest friends – My two best friends, the godmothers of my children have drifted away. Both with new partners, new friends, interesting lives, and no children of their own. Sometimes I wonder what the hell is so wrong with me? Will I have close girlfriends like them again? Sigh.
For what it's worth, I am as enamoured with new Lori as I am with the old x
- January 25, 2012 at 10:22 am
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It hurts, when people leave you. It hurts even when you haven't got a tonne of grief to deal with, but when you really need them, and they're not there, it's like being stabbed. Again.
And yeah, they have reasons, and the reasons make some kind of sense, but that doesn't make it stop hurting.
I used to get so angry with people who'd say to me, "I know things have changed for you, but … you're not the SAME as you were!"
I don't know how the fuck they thought I could NOT be changed by what had happened to me.
There are things about yourself and your life that you don't like, Lori, and maybe some of those things are right and maybe some of them are you longing for the Before, but the new Lori that's emerged has so much potential! She's pretty frickin' amazing. And you'll start to see those things soon. I promise you this — there are things being built into you that you're going to love about yourself, and be proud of, even though you came about them in such a shitful way.
x
Previous post: The World’s Fussiest Eater… At A Top Seafood Reaturant
Next post: The House, Part One.
Trauma. – RRSAHM
Trauma.
I’m at home. Alone. On my own computer, albeit with a new pink keyboard.
This is scaring the shit out of me.
But I can do it.
Those of you who have reading since the Before know how much I adored The Man. Search the tag, if you like. He was my best mate, my rock. The person who knew me best in the entire world.
My soul mate.
But I am so pissed at him right now.
I wonder if he knows, what he’s left behind here.
I wonder if he knows that his children, our children, are being primarily cared for by their grandmother right now. Because I can’t. I can barely take care of myself, let alone two tiny people.
I wonder if he saw how much it hurt me when my daughter turned to mother, instead of me.
I wonder if he knows that it’s been two weeks and I still have to remind myself to shower, to eat. And my mind still tricks me into thinking he’s here, that I can go home to him and escape all this mess and stress at any time.
Who’s going to take care of me now? I guess I’ll be taking care of myself.
I wonder if he knows it took me two weeks to even be able to drive again. And the first time I did that I reversed into someone’s car.
I wonder if he knows that his best mate sat by his hospital bed for hours, days. That I will have to attend his best friend’s wedding alone, next month, were Tony should have been best man.
I wonder if he knows what his son is missing, playing with his daddy. Hanging out with his best friend.
I wonder if he can see the awful mess he’s left behind. His mother, weeping. His sister, lost without her baby bro who always took such care of her.
Fuck. What are we supposed to do, without you? There’s a great big fucking hole in the world, and I can’t fill it with anything.
This is fucked. I miss you, don’t you get that? I’d give anything, anything, for one more second. Just so you can tell me you love me, and this isn’t my fault. That I’m not so bad I can drive my husband to suicide. That I’m not so fucked up, that you hated me enough to do this to me, and to do it in front of me, in the very same place I gave birth to our daughter? In our beautiful, peaceful backyard courtyard, with the purple that I loved but I now can’t even look at?
Do you have any idea of the trauma you’ve left me with? Forget the grieving, the fucking trauma is nearly breaking me. Loud noises. Sirens. Flashbacks. Blue shirt, orange rope, ads on the TV that show CPR, people casually mentioning, in conversation, an adrenalin shot to the heart. All those things fuck with me, wind me up, make me fragile, on edge, like a cat about to spring off it’s toes.
Fuck you. You see what you’ve done? You see what you’ve left behind?
As much as I love you, Tony, I fucking hate you right now. For doing this to me, to all of us. For leaving such a huge fucking hole, that nothing will ever be able to fill. The only hope is, life will get bigger, and that hole will feel smaller, as time goes on.
Two weeks. Fuck. Buckle up, the ride does not stop here.
Leave a Comment
{ 104 comments… read them below or add one }
- January 27, 2011 at 10:33 am
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As many have said here, it wasn't your fault. Hoping that you come to feel that in your heart.
- January 25, 2011 at 11:31 am
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This is such a devastating thing to read. I know words from a stranger can never make much of a difference but this breaks my heart and I am so sorry for you. I've dealt with depression in my past and can understand its impact but I also know what it is to have a great marriage and I cannot comprehend how you are surviving in this moment.
May God bless and bring you peace and comfort. You and yours are in my prayers.
- January 23, 2011 at 5:33 pm
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The fact he felt that leaving everyone he loved was a logical decision just reminds you that he wasn't thinking straight. This was purely about what he could and couldn't handle. And if he thought for just one moment that you would've missed him, he would never had done this. This was never, ever about you. Keep writing. xx
- January 23, 2011 at 5:03 pm
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life does get bigger, the whole does get smaller… but it takes TIME (and lots of it)
- January 23, 2011 at 5:06 am
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Good for you. Get mad!!!! Get angry!!!! Get PISSED!!! It was selfish of him and you have every right to hate him for what he did.
Then as time passes you'll remember the good more then the bad. This will never make sense. I don't think it was meant to. Just keep doing what your doing and express that anger on your keyboard. If anything its teaching your readers the torment loved ones left behind will have to deal with. One hasty choice with a tragic ending.You are in my thoughts and prayers,
Elaine - January 23, 2011 at 2:05 am
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My friends husband did the same damn thing, in their garage, 30 minutes before his kids were to come home from school and walk INTO the garage.
Why did your mate do this? There is no rational explanation, but I can guarantee you that his demons had nothing to do with you. They were entirely his.
- January 23, 2011 at 12:55 am
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Gosh I would be angry too. How I wish you didn't have to be angry. So tough for you Lori. xxxx
- January 22, 2011 at 8:43 pm
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Lori, others have said it far more eloquently than I ever could, but to reiterate, this is not your fault. I didn't know Tony, and I've only ever known you through a screen, but I can tell you this – nothing you did, or didn't do, nor the person that you are, had anything to do with this. Suicide is about someone not being able to live within their own head, and that person can be surrounded by all the good things in this world, surrounded by love and family and happiness yet still feel like an imposter in their own self. And you can't help them if they don't seek or want help, or recognise that they need it before it's too late to do anything about. He made this choice, not you, yet whether he made it consciously or not it is still you that has to live with his choice. Be angry – be furious. Be angry at Tony, be angry for him. Be angry at this whole fucked up situation and the giant hole he's left you, your kids and everyone who loved him in. Be angry, be sad, be loving, be strong, be weak, whatever you feel at the time is the right thing to feel. Because right now, you are doing an incredible thing by simply being.
- January 22, 2011 at 6:34 pm
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Hugs…..
- January 22, 2011 at 2:58 pm
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Still sending you light and thinking of you. You're right, it is fucked. Don't forget, you've got so many people on your side. I'm sad for you but I also see your strength. Your children will draw from that. Big Hug to you all.
- January 22, 2011 at 2:52 pm
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Oh hun.
- January 22, 2011 at 2:08 pm
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Just hugs and love Lori. I have nothing else. I'm thinking of you always.
- January 22, 2011 at 1:01 pm
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Be angry at him Lori, im angry at him too!
How could he do this to you? to your babies? Leave you in this crazy fucked up world to deal with all of this by yourself?But he did girl. He did this – not you! This is not your fault not your doing, it was Tonys'.
I want to say I am sorry. No not as sorry as you are but so sorry that you are hurting so much right now. It not fair
- January 22, 2011 at 12:43 pm
- January 22, 2011 at 12:13 pm
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I am here through Eden's blog — sitting here stunned in my house in a frozen place a world away from where you are — you are saving people with your honesty and your open heart.
I want to tell you something else — I am a child whose father left the world in a violent way, and I would be misspeaking if I didn't say that it profoundly altered all of us — but in many ways it deepened the way we received love. Kahlil Gibran wrote — even as sorrow carves into your soul — the more joy it will contain — it doesn't seem so now but I wanted you to know, especially for your children — they will contain great joy in life…I promise you that.
Love to you,
Pam
- January 22, 2011 at 11:53 am
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Just wanted to say I'm thinking of you all.
- January 22, 2011 at 10:30 am
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Your pain and rage are totally justifiable, and totally normal. Sending you lots of love even though I have never met you xo
- January 22, 2011 at 8:54 am
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Hi Lori,
Had to come out of the shadows to comment on this one. Unfortunately I can't help from sounding condescending in my admiration so hopefully it is not taken in that way.
This is such an impressive post to write, particularly after "Speak". Challenging people to speak out about their true feelings and actually doing it yourself is not the easiest thing in the world to do. If we all realised that this world wasn't meant to be taken on alone and that speaking out wasn't a sign of weakness/inappropriate/toomuchinformation/whatever then maybe some of those we've lost along the way wouldn't have felt so doomed in this world.
You may not feel strong now but your display of strength is extraordinary.
- January 22, 2011 at 8:11 am
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I have struggled all night with how to comment on your post. I have thought a lot about how I would feel in your situation in the last two weeks, and I am watching every emotion that has gone through my mind play out right here. But for me these are just thoughts in my mind, I can't believe you are having to live through this. I am amazed at your strength.
One thing I have to say is that this is not your fault. He made the wrong choice. For a man with a loving wife, caring family, good friends, who would only have had to ask to receive help and support for anything he needed, this is absolutely and fundamentally the wrong choice. It was a mistake. His mistake. As you have said yourself, all he needed to do was speak. As a previous commenter said, maybe it was a choice that passed through his mind in a matter of moments, one that he may have regretted an instant too late. But it was still the wrong choice. Be angry, you damn well should be. Blame him, it was his choice, his wrong choice, his mistake.
But it was not your fault.
We toasted you yesterday, with vodka. Some of us had to drink doubles to make up for those who couldn’t drink. But we toasted you, because you kick ass, and you will keep on kicking ass. Because you were always lovely, and beautiful and funny and fun. And we hate that you are going through this.
But if this nightmare has proven one thing, it’s that you really are fucking amazing. And my admiration for you knows no bounds. Love xoxox - January 22, 2011 at 4:24 am
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Dear Lori, through your raw emotion and your brutal honesty about what happened to Tony and what is happening to you now, you are touching the hearts, minds & souls of so many. Please know that we are hearing your words and learning so much from your strength and courage. Alison x
- January 22, 2011 at 4:00 am
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I've only recently started following you and I cannot read another post without commenting because it feels wrong. I was pulled in because I almost just lost my husband and your words remind me to appreciate what i still have and stop whining for what i've lost. Your words tear me up and I can only hope that writing them gives you some sense of order in your chaos.
- January 22, 2011 at 3:56 am
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It's not your fault and if you need to be angry then let it all out. You will get through this eventually just don't feel guilty right now that your mum is minding the kids. xx
- January 22, 2011 at 1:32 am
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everyone her has already said so much more that I could ever say. Just put your head up.
This is NOT your fault.
And you will recover.
You have some very good people listening (and some not so good – me) use them – sound off on them.
you can
you will
be strong
- January 22, 2011 at 12:07 am
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Scream it from the rooftops… It needs to come out- it has to. And it's okay to be angry and sad and angry some more. This wasnt your fault… isnt your fault… will never be your fault.
Hugs…
- January 21, 2011 at 11:05 pm
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Not.Your.Fault.
The world is biggering.
You're still here. Thank you for that xxx - January 21, 2011 at 11:00 pm
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I've said it before; I'll say it again: I can't imagine how hard it must be for you right now. I think youi need to cope in whatever way you can find.
Strength & Peace to you!
- January 21, 2011 at 10:33 pm
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I know everyone has already said it, but I'm going to say it too… it's not your fault. Be angry at the awful thoughts that must have been going through his head for him to even think about doing what he did. Be angry at the world for being so fucked up. But be so so so proud of yourself for surviving, for dealing with the shit, for the continued heartache you're wading your way through.
Much love to you x - January 21, 2011 at 10:19 pm
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Lori, I loved reading you *before* and now I'm angry alongside you and thinking about your heartbreak keeps me awake at night. There's so much love and support for you *out here*. We're all listening. You are clever, strong, big-hearted, honest, funny – and you did NOT make this happen.
- January 21, 2011 at 9:51 pm
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Dear Lori, I have no words, I can only feel for you. The tears still come when I think of you. Love from River
- January 21, 2011 at 9:34 pm
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Lori, I think of you and your family everyday… I wish there was a way we could all ease your pain.
- January 21, 2011 at 9:32 pm
- January 21, 2011 at 9:10 pm
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Not your fault, Lori, not your fault. xx
- January 21, 2011 at 9:00 pm
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There are no words for a situation like this. all I can offer you is my thoughts and support from out here in the interwebs. I have no comprehension of where you are right now, but please know that you are loved, and not alone in this. rufalina xoxo
- January 21, 2011 at 8:43 pm
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My tears are falling for you. Your post is so raw yet so real. You have such a powerful voice. You aren't responsible for this but unfortunately you are the one left to survive.
- January 21, 2011 at 8:06 pm
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Lori, at this horrible time I doubt wider community awareness of mental illness and suicide is important but just reading these comments I can see we are starting the conversation and educating each other. After my Dad took his life, I didn't care about these big picture issues, I could only think of my own devastating loss and how much I wanted my gentle, caring and loving father back. He suffered from bipolar for many years and was mostly a normal, devoted dad and husband but he had his hard times and would fall into psychosis at times. He never remembered these times and I really believe he didn't consciously make the decision to complete suicide. Still, I have been angry at him a few times but mostly just broken hearted and so sorry for the constant battle he faced and the frightening mental experiences he had during his psychotic episodes. One of the hardest things to deal with during the unbearable grief process was the judgements from others and the anger from almost strangers towards my father. It was hard to hear this about someone I cherished and I wished they had more compassion and understanding. He didn't do it because he didn't love us or wanted to hurt us. I honestly don't believe he had the capacity to think these things or any rational thoughts in his final hours.
My heart breaks for you and I encourage you to keep doing what you need to do to get by. There is no right way. Just ride that rollercoaster and ask a professional to hold your hand. Remember the man you loved for the life he lived and the family you created together, not just the way he departed this crazy life. - January 21, 2011 at 8:06 pm
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I'm thinking of you Lori.
Take whatever time you need, feel whatever you need to feel, screw people who don't understand. Lots of love.
- January 21, 2011 at 8:02 pm
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Fuck Lori that was very hard to read. I cannot begin to imagine the indescribable pain you are going through and I am so pissed right now at Tony too.
I wish he had just reached out. To someone. Then this pain could have been avoided. I wish I could fly over there and smack him about the head before all this started.
I am sure you wish the same. I wish I could make it better. Put everything back to where it belongs.
Thinking of you Lori.
- January 21, 2011 at 7:23 pm
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I really feel for you…..I wish I could do something to help you. Know that there are so many people reading your blog, thinking of you, sending love your way….
And no, it most definitely is NOT your fault!!
And yes, your babies love you, and you WILL find the strength to go on and care for them yourself. But first, and this is very important, you must take care of yourself. Scream if you have to, throw things around if you have to, do anything you have to to get the hurt out…..Love, Wendy
- January 21, 2011 at 7:17 pm
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If it's any consolation Lori, it is 'normal' ( for want of a better word!) to feel how you're feeling. Let it out. When you're going through hell, just keep going.. xxx
- January 21, 2011 at 6:51 pm
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Lori, your story – and those of the people you have connected with – is heartbreaking and so, so wrong. You should NOT be in this position, you have every right to scream, rant, sob -whatever. He truly let you down, but like everyone has said – it was NOT your fault, rather, a split second decision made in a moment of irrational madness.
xx
- January 21, 2011 at 6:51 pm
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So not your fault, Lori. xxxx
- January 21, 2011 at 6:34 pm
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Ah hell lori, hugs.
On a lighter note, I reversed into someone the other day and not only do I NOT have anything like what you are going through in my life, but I also have reverse parking sensors, that work.
- January 21, 2011 at 6:28 pm
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No I'm guessing that the ride is just starting. You've every right to feel anger and resentment, to accompany the love. Never forget the love, the hate will pass.
- January 21, 2011 at 6:20 pm
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Not your fault. Not his fault. Life. Terrorful, beautiful life. Rage Lori rage. Don't fight it. Scream to the heavens.
And your babies? They will carry you through the next stage as you will carry them.
And we will all be here. Sending you love, supporting you, sharing our own pain, here when you need us. - January 21, 2011 at 6:14 pm
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As I said before Lori, you are a strong and amazing woman, and you WILL get through this.
Having witness a similar tragedy, where he did the same thing in front of his 8 y/o son, and tried to resuscitate, but there was nothing I could do, it was too late. I hope that others (especially males) get the opportunity to read your blog, so they can see the utter devastation they would cause for those left behind, and to think about their loved ones, who would have to pick up the pieces.
Stay strong Lori. - January 21, 2011 at 6:06 pm
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Let it out Lori, just let it all out …
- January 21, 2011 at 5:39 pm
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Hi Lori
I am a stranger to you, I found your blog through VegemiteVix… I wish I knew the Lori before everything changed, but I want you to know that I have cried with you and my heart aches for you and your family. I imagine myself in your situation and I don't know that I could cope at all. You are an inspiration and I only hope that I never have the chance to draw on your experiences for my own survival but if I do, you will have given me strength beyond anything you could comprehend. Thank you so much for sharing this with us. - January 21, 2011 at 5:30 pm
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Tony wasn't thinking Lori – the pain he felt in that instant consumed him. It wasn't rational. I know you know that deep down, but this pain, anger, disbelief is real for you at the moment, and you must live it. Walk in that dark tunnel, but you make sure you hold tight to Kristin's hand, and everyone else's hand that is outstretched for you and keeping you moving. You will get through, at least to something different, and your kids will be waiting there for you. YOu have time, time to grieve, time to be angry. YOu take that time.
Big hugs
M2Mx
- January 21, 2011 at 5:20 pm
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Just sharing a hug. I'm a stranger to you but I have followed your heartbreaking story on here and on BB. I wish there was something I, anyone could do to take away the pain, to make things normal, ok.
My BIL committed suicide when my niece was 2.5 years old. He left an amazing marriage, a wonderful family (immediate and extended), an adoring wife and his precious, beautiful daughter – the light of his life. His pride and joy. We know his reason but it will never make sense. The only thing that makes us all feel a little better is knowing how much he loved his family and he honestly thought suicide was the best option for everyone. He seriously thought his family would be better off without him. What a dark place to be in when that is your decision.
My SIL is doing well now but it took a long time (its been 9 years). Lots of support from family and friends and just time. The haze will clear eventually. Your kids will get you through.
I cant begin to imagine how you're feeling right now but, from everything else I've read, I have no doubt your husband loved you with all his heart.
- January 21, 2011 at 5:11 pm
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Dear Lori,
The suicide of my brother-in-law helped me to choose a career in counselling. It is a selfish act but those who carry it out sometimes just can't help it. Keep writing! We're reading and praying and willing you on! A little note aside your children are young – Don't think that grandparents can replace you and don't feel guilty – you are doing what you need to right now and very few children remember anything before three years of age especially once they get older (around age 7 or so). So take care of yourself and you will get stronger and be able to take care of them then too. - January 21, 2011 at 4:57 pm
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Oh my God, this post – and the comment thread, is taking my breath away. Lori, you are touching so many people right now with your raw, real, vulnerable, angry, beautiful words. I am so so glad you have this blog.
And I can't believe so many people have been touched by suicide. I thought I was the only one. My (step)dad killed himself when I was 16 – I called him dad, known him for eleven years. He bought a hose, drove to Oran Park, and gassed himself in his car. He was about to go to jail, so did this instead. I strongly believe, that the instant he left his body … he thought – oh fuck, what have I done? And his penance was watching his family fracture and fuck up afterwards. Sometimes I feel him around me, I know he is very very sorry for what he did. Wrong, bad, irreversible decision. The forever decision.
My real dad drank himself to death when I was 12. I almost drank myself to death until I thought, fuck you guys. I'm stronger than you. And I am.
I think I forgive them …. they missed out on so much, it's such a shame.
I'm here for you, mate. And I truly mean it. You are so sweet and beautiful. I watched your Bakers Delight Breadhead video so many times, looking at how sparkly and happy and cute and talented you are. You are.
Someone very wise once told me: "You can do hard things."
I get the feeling you can too.
XOXOX
PS My button is on your blog and I need to pay you for that, also want to advertise two other things on your blog. Will email you.
- January 21, 2011 at 4:46 pm
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I was going tell you that the anger came next, its one of the cliched stages of grieving. Seven years later I still get angry when I look into my daughters eyes and think how could he turn his back on a life he helped create. I really think he thought someone would find him in time, he rolled the dice and lost, we all lost. Know though, they can and will see their little ones grow up,and I'm sure he would give anything for one more moment with you. Keep holding on x
- January 21, 2011 at 4:42 pm
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You know Lori, I can't begin to imagine how you must feel. I would be mightally pissed off too but I honestly believe that when someone suicides they rarely think of the aftermath, they were sick – just beacuse it is a mental illness does not mean they weren't reall sick. There is nothing rational about it, those rational thoughts must not get through when people feel so dark, they feel that is there only choice. If you have a broken leg, you go to the hospital and they put a cast on it and it heals in 6 weeks, unfortunately the mind doesn't work in such a straightforward way!
I'm told that anger is a way through the grief, especially in these circumstances but please always remember that he wasn't well and he certainly wouldn't have left you with this mess, if he had the clarity to to justify how he was feeling. Big Hugs again and please keep talking and posting – I think it helps not only you but all of those around you and even those who can draw on your strength for their own lives. You are helping other people – not that you probably give a fuck at the moment but it might help you to know that further down the track! And babes will always love their mummas – they are pretty resilient little beings – do what you can, they'll be ready to embrace you the minute you want or need them to! - January 21, 2011 at 4:20 pm
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((hugs))
Can't even imagine what you are going through. As everyone has said, this was HIS decision, not yours. You are merely left to pick up the pieces. I'd be angry too. He swore to love and protect you!
Don't feel bad about your babies. Feel grateful that they have someone to care for them right now. They'll be the thing that anchors you. The thing to keep you going. They are too young to remember this heartache. When you are ready, they'll be ready to welcome their Mum back, with unconditional love. - January 21, 2011 at 4:16 pm
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Lori, I can only read about how you feel as I have not experienced your particular type of pain before – and I hope I never do.
What I do know a lot about though, is being the child left behind. My mum committed suicide when I was 3 years old, my sister was 1, my brother 10. I only have a couple of memories of her – but they are memories I will never forget. One is of her bringing my newborn sister home from hospital, another of her taking a prickle out of my foot and the other is of her lying 'asleep' in the front seat of her car. The memory after that is just of the back of the ambulance as it drove away.
Then there are the memories after that, of my Dad cooking us dinner, kissing us goodbye as we rode our bikes off to school, being so damn chuffed as we excelled at school and, eventually, graduated university. I know those memories don't mean a lot to anyone but me, but they are testament to the strength and courage my Dad somehow found deep within himself to keep going. To this day I still don't know how he managed to do it, to raise 3 small children on his own and earn a living. But he did.
I never felt that I was missing something. It was and is perfectly normal for me to have 'just Dad'. Sure, there have been times, such as when I got married, that I thought it would be nice to have my mother around – but I don't dwell on those thoughts as that was never my reality, not how things were meant to be for me, not my life.
I guess all I really want to say is that myself, my brother and my sister are proof that children can grow up completely normal, not lacking in emotional intelligence, not lacking in love, not forever angry with the world for dealing them this particular hand – even after such trauma as this. I don't think we were 'imbalanced' having had the influence of one parent only – not at all.
I hope this comment isn't out of line – it might not give you any reassurance about your kids at the moment, but I hope one day it might.
Stay strong Lori. You can do it.
- January 21, 2011 at 4:04 pm
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Your anger is understandable, acceptable, unavoidable. I will add my voice to the cries of it's not your fault, but I think deep down inside you know that anyway. Nothing will ever fix this completely, time will make it easier to deal with, but this is for life. So is the love, care and prayers from those around you.
- January 21, 2011 at 3:58 pm
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Keep screaming, Lori. Get it out of you. x
- January 21, 2011 at 3:54 pm
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After an extremly bad weekend fighting with my husband, just over stupid shit, crap really, i asked him to take us all to see a local dam… to walk along to blow off steam, to show the kids, to get out of the house, it was late in the afternoon… as we were half way across, I decided fuck it im going to jump in and when i get a long way under i will blow out all my air and not come back up…. that'll teach him. teach him to fuckin piss me off… as the kids and husband walked on ahead i got up on the wall, he hadnt noticed yet or turned around… my toes on the edge, i looked back at my kids. I couldnt do it. in the split second i decided i did, it took a second to decide not to. a second. I sat down on the safe side and quickly got down ran to catch up with my family. "what were you looking at over there asked my husband", he had seen me. Dont scare me like that again will you? I promised i wouldnt. I'll keep my promise. but my point is it took 0ne second to decide, about 5 seconds to prepare and another to back out. 6 seconds. I could have fucked up my whole family in 6 seconds. I cant explain what went through his head lori but let me tell you he may well have changed his mind a second too late. we'll never know… you have a right to ba angry. I dont know if ive helped you here… I just hope so…
- January 21, 2011 at 3:52 pm
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You have every right to feel angry, don't ever feel guilty for feeling this emotion.
It was his choice, not yours, do not blame yourself (((hugs))) xxxx - January 21, 2011 at 3:37 pm
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Have had many friends directly impacted by suicide, husbands, dads and friends… it is the most difficult of all deaths to deal with because so many questions left behind. One thing I can tell you is it is NOT YOUR FAULT. xx
- January 21, 2011 at 2:57 pm
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You are such an amazingly strong woman – even if right now, you don't want to be – and it is clear from your many posts from 'before' that you are an incredible mummy. Your babies know how much you love them, and they will be ready for your hugs when you are able to give them. Until then, they are being well cared for. I can only hope that you are able to find someoneto take care of you, until you are able to look after yourself. Sending love and hugs, as always.
- January 21, 2011 at 2:56 pm
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Suicide is an evil death to grieve over as the anger stage is a huge long one. We are hear to read and listen and sipport.
Whatever you feel, on any given day, is right. It'll move you forward.
xxx
- January 21, 2011 at 2:50 pm
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Love xox
- January 21, 2011 at 2:44 pm
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Life is so fricken unfair. Your rage makes complete sense to me, hell, I'm amgry for you. Keep writing gorgeous girl x
- January 21, 2011 at 2:41 pm
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Oh Lori I was crying reading your post… you have every right to be angry! Let it out… as the others said suicide is the most selfish act. It might ease their pain but they dont realise the pain they leave behind. I hope you grow strong enough soon to be with your little ones… they need their mummy but you need to get through this first.
- January 21, 2011 at 2:40 pm
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The fucking rollercoaster ride (that you didn't even buy a ticket for!!!) continues. Like some scary life or death game you couldn't possibly have signed up for has been forced upon you. Stifling. But there is a way through it. I see glimpses of you finding it, of knowing it. It's almost like a primal memory of how to survive even though you've known nothing like it in living memory before. You know?
And as your body continues to survive this shock and trauma, it will be the thing to physically keep lifting you through this. And as it does, I have every faith that you'll transcend what you see before you now as a complete mess and 'fail'. It's not. You're not. But for now if it seems that way, so be it – it's hellishly vital to go as slow as you need at this point, just know and trust that it WILL subside).
Lots of love to you Lori with all my heart, we are all here with open arms – take your time xxx
- January 21, 2011 at 2:24 pm
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I've always felt suicide was selfish, because you're choosing to leave your family to clean up the mess. I would be so angry right now too, because it was an awful thing to burden you with. You should not be living this life.
- January 21, 2011 at 2:08 pm
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Big hugs to you. You have every right to be angry. Its not right, its not fair. Be strong, find a will and keep going. You are precious and deserve to keep on going.
- January 21, 2011 at 2:05 pm
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Oh how my heart breaks for you, no one deserves this nightmare and I can only imagine the pain and anger coursing thru you. Just know you are not at the root of this, our society can be solely guilty of making our men afraid to talk. You, your powerful words of wisdom, your writing, will help change this. Keep telling your story, the world has much to learn from you and in return i hope it reinstates some peace to your fractured dreams xx
- January 21, 2011 at 2:03 pm
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Oh Lori, I don't know you but I simply can't stop thinking of you and this hell you are currently living. I wish I could take some of the anger, pain and trauma away from you. I weep for you. x
- January 21, 2011 at 1:57 pm
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It sucks. It's not fair.
My Dad killed himself when I was 19. It hurt then, I blamed myself… but the hurt, the anger, I promise it will get better.
But right now, this pain, what happened, it's fucked. Hugs x
- January 21, 2011 at 1:49 pm
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Anger is so normal right now amidst the grief – when my partner killed himself 20 years ago, I felt just as you did… such a selfish, selfish act. So even though your grief is unique, I understand that anger. I got through my grief by talking to other people who had been through the same experience and by reading about how grief evolves. For me, there was reassurance knowing that what I felt was normal and I wasn't going insane.
Thinking of you even if I don't know you…x - January 21, 2011 at 1:49 pm
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This is exactly where you need to be. Get angry, feel it, get it out. You have every right to feel this way. You're completely justified. I hope you will listen to the fact that everyone is saying the same thing: it's NOT your fault.
Everyone's saying the same thing because it's true. It could take a long time for you to really accept that. The biggest thing in all this that I've worried about for you is the trauma of the experience. I'm glad you can that for what it is.
It's good you're letting yourself feel these things. And please, make use of all the professionals you've been offered. In the meantime, we're all here, sending you love, checking in everyday to check how you are and be here.
- January 21, 2011 at 1:43 pm
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You have every right to be angry Lori. Every single right to be angry. But don't turn this anger on yourself. You are not to blame for this. You didn't cause what happened.
My thoughts are still with you. - January 21, 2011 at 1:37 pm
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Nadine, what you said was beautiful and so true.
Please do not think this is your fault Lori. Its not at all. The guilt lies with him right now and it is so fucked that you are now left with all the broken pieces. Even though I dont know you IRL I still wish I could take the pain away from you. It is so understandable to be so angry with him and hate him for what he has done, yet love him so much at the same time. Your babies know mummy loves them and know that they love you as well. You are in my thoughts always xo
- January 21, 2011 at 1:33 pm
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Oh Lori. I don't even know what to say. It's fucked up, but it's not your fault. Those few horrifying moments don't wipe out the years of good ones. He loved you, he just snapped. It's not your fault.
- January 21, 2011 at 1:29 pm
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Echoing all the comments above. It's not your fault, Lori. Sending you the biggest hug. xxx
- January 21, 2011 at 1:26 pm
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Fuck, Lori. Two weeks. You've made it through two weeks when you weren't sure you'd make it through another minute. Tony may have been your rock, but you, Lori are the water. Rocks may crumble but the water is eternal, it is powerful beyond imagination, it sustains and sourishes and gives life, it changes and adapts and re-invents itself forever.
Be pissed now, you damned well ought to be, but know that you, like the water will change and adapt. You' like the water, can not be destroyed.
Holding you still.
Nx - January 21, 2011 at 1:25 pm
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Darling girl, I can't imagine your grief. But I do know that what Tony did wasn't really about you. It may look and feel that way, but it wasn't. When my aunt did this I remember the huge rage I felt. HUGE. Almost unmanageable. It's taken so long for that to pass. I loved her like my own mother and all this time later I wonder if she knew the chaos what she did would create. So I do get it. Hugs and love sweet girl. Lots of them xxx
- January 21, 2011 at 1:23 pm
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If I could find the words to write to make you feel better I would, but I know nothing I write here will change a thing. Just know that I, like so many, am standing right beside you. It was not your fault.
xx
- January 21, 2011 at 1:20 pm
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Not your fault, not your doing, but yours to cope with forever. It is fucking unfair and nothing anyone can say makes it more bearable. I'm thinking of you and I know that means nothing, but I am.
- January 21, 2011 at 1:16 pm
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Lori, I have just learned of your heartbreak and I could not leave your blog without sending you my thoughts and prayers and (cyber) hugs. xx
- January 21, 2011 at 1:16 pm
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Everyone's right, you are not to blame in ANY way. I wish there was something more we could all do for you. Just keep talking and writing. We're here. Sending you love.
- January 21, 2011 at 1:14 pm
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This is NOT your fault, you didn't do or not do anything. It was his decision to make and he made it.
It's almost 7 years since my dad hung himself, I'm still angry at him, I still can't forgive him. I said in a previous comment, for me it's about learning how to cope better day by day and now year by year but I will never be "over it".
- January 21, 2011 at 1:11 pm
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Love to you Lori.
When you can and as often as you can – love those babies. They will help you heal.
xx - January 21, 2011 at 1:09 pm
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I've got no words for you. Nothing I can say can make it better, so I'm sending you a cyber hug.
Take care Jellybean
x - January 21, 2011 at 1:08 pm
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It is not your fault, honey. Not your fault.xxx
- January 21, 2011 at 1:07 pm
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I'm just going to echo Sarah. This ISN'T your fault, the amount of times you've fought and you never ran off and did what he did, he had never before, you weren't to know how serious he was this time. How much he was hurting.
I hope that you are able to find your way to cope. Find something that helps. I know it's a pain that will never truely disappear, but hopefully, with time, you will be able to work with it. - January 21, 2011 at 1:05 pm
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Oh baby. Baby, baby. Would that I could be there with you so you could have someone to scream these things to, to fall apart on.
Lori, no one drives another person to suicide. Suicide is a choice people make when they are suffering from severe depression or another mental illness.
You are walking through the deepest, darkest part of hell right now. I can't pull you out, but know that I will walk the dark parts with you. I love you. xo
- January 21, 2011 at 1:03 pm
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Keep talking hun, we're here to listen. And though you don't need me to tell you – you have every right to be pissed off!
- January 21, 2011 at 1:02 pm
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Dear Lori, You are right where you need to be, feeling what you need to feel, and you are normal normal normal, a loving mum, and your kids are with someone who loves them too. And that is enough. And when you are stronger and feeling other normal, human feelings, your kids will melt slowly into those loving arms of yours. They will. But you look after yourself first Lori. Rebuild your heart and head in your own time and in your own way. Writing is aweseom too. I hope you are surrounded by loving friends and find the best grief counsellor in Sydney, when you are ready xxoo
- January 21, 2011 at 1:00 pm
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I've got nothing Lori, no wisdom, no cliche's even. This fricken sucks.
So much love to you *hug*
- January 21, 2011 at 12:59 pm
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There is nothing I can say that will make this any easier. But for the itty bitty it's worth, this post, this post will be how I keep myself in check. This post will make ME remember that this could be my own loved ones.
I know it does nothing at all to make your world better, in fact I hesitate to post the comment because I'm feeling a little selfish about using your pain to keep myself going.
If I could hug you, I would. My heart hurts for you.
- January 21, 2011 at 12:58 pm
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Be angry with him, that he did this, that you are alone, that the babies have lost their daddy. You are allowed, the situation is so fucked I'm not surprised your angry.
But please please be gentle with yourself ok? As you said at the funeral, as you wrote in your last post, this is because he didn't talk when there was something wrong. This is not your fault.
- January 21, 2011 at 12:54 pm
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You have every right to be pissed, but this is NOT your fault!
- January 21, 2011 at 11:52 pm
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Be angry, you should be. You don't love Tony any less because you hate what he did!!!
If you never loved him, it would not matter….Inga.xx
- January 21, 2011 at 8:24 pm
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Look at how many people you are reaching my sweet. And look at how many are reaching right back to hold you up as best they can.
xx
- January 21, 2011 at 6:44 pm
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Glad you are writing
Glad you are getting out of bed
Glad you are being listened to, here for sure
Glad you have done some "normal" stuff.
Glad you will keep posting
Glad that we will keep in touch here too.Please don't think you are alone.. Come to the new pink keyboard & off you go .. We are here .. Many of us, with open hearts & arms.
I do hope that you seek professional help too as Yvette suggested - January 21, 2011 at 6:17 pm
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I'm not going to say I'm sorry because it really doesn't mean much. What I will say is this: YOU ARE NOT TO BLAME. YOU ARE NOT THE REASON YOU ARE IN THIS SITUATION NOW. Period. End of story. As you so bravely and courageously said, you are in this position because he would not open up to you about what was hurting him. It's natural for you to blame yourself now, but, in time, you will learn that you aren't to blame at all. you and your beautiful children and your families are the victims.
Everyday, think of the love that surrounds you and think of the countless people who are praying for you, sending you positive thoughts and positive energy. And remember to take it 1 little step at a time because alot of little steps equal a very great distance. xxxx Autumn
- January 21, 2011 at 5:43 pm
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It hurts my heart to think that you might blame yourself. This is NOT your fault. You did NOT do this. You have every right to be angry, to be furious!!!
Love you xoxoxoxo - January 21, 2011 at 2:38 pm
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Am in tears. Fuck how I wish I could make everything better again for you my love x
- January 21, 2011 at 2:03 pm
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Lori, in tears reading your post. It is so important you get your feelings out somewhere. And to me anyway, what you write makes perfect sense. I am angry for you and that such a unfathonable decision and rash act can change the direction of so many lives. It is not your fault. Try and see that. You did not do it. You did not do it. This is the beginning of your stages of greif coming to you, and we are all going to see you through it.
Much love
Mrs Woog xoxo - January 21, 2011 at 1:59 pm
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Oh, Lori. I am so sad for you and your family. You must listen to everyone; this was not your fault.
- January 21, 2011 at 1:23 pm
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Oh, God, Lori —
What those above have said is right — NOT your fault. You should be damn angry. It was the worst thing he could have done. With the worst result.
xxx
Previous post: Speak.
Next post: One Day At A Time
Brunching With a Tweet of Bloggers. – RRSAHM
Brunching With a Tweet of Bloggers.
Heya,
We do remember, when I went to Melbourne a little while back? Pay attention, there may just be a pop quiz later.
Anyway. While I was there, I was lucky enough to attend the Blogger’s Brunch- an awesome brunch, sponsored by Weight Watchers, complete with motivational speakers, good coffee, delicious food and….
A whole Tweet of bloggers. (Yep, that’s the new collective noun, I have decided).
I got to check out and pick up some very cool samples and products from some awesome companies- Blackmores gave me vitamins (including the much needed Women’s De-Stress Pills), Garnier gave me moisturising cream and their caffeinated, tinted eye roll on- product of the century.
Million Dollar Woman filled me in on there product- stay at home mums, head over to their site to find out how much you are worth- and Homedics sent me home with a shoulder massager.
Most of these goodies have been passed on as extras to random winners of the Big ThankYou GiveAway… if you did win, look out for surprises in your prizes, which are going out in the next week.
Higlight of the day was, for me, motivational speaker Ms Money. The woman is a financial planner witha thing for expensive shoes. This works, yes?
And lowlight of the day waaaaaas… turning up late. As usual. And missing the introduction for the motivaional speakers. And thinking that Melinda Gainsford- Tayler…..
….was actually Tina Gray.
We can totally see the resembalance, yes? Yes.
And giving her that “Hi, we know each other” smile when she was on stage. And getting na-da back. And wondering what the hell was going on. And then feeling like a dick when I realised my mistake.
Duh, Lori.
Whatever. Super fun time had by all. And a huge thanks to Weight Watchers for granting a wish for me…. $500 worth of petrol, to help with the constant travel back and forth from the suburbs. That balancing act to keep myself sane.
Photos thanks to the luciously vain Danimezza.
Leave a Comment
{ 14 comments… read them below or add one }
- March 26, 2012 at 6:35 pm
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I love it when motivational speakers come to our school and try to spread good word about something. Thank you very much and have a nice day.
- August 7, 2011 at 5:19 pm
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Glad you got a wish granted Lori – and sounds like such an awesome event, wish I could have been there..!
- August 7, 2011 at 10:40 am
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Haha I love Tina 's choc gold medals, the others are useless. So glad you won a wish.
- August 6, 2011 at 11:19 pm
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Tina's chocolate gold medals would so work for me. HILARIOUS!!
- August 6, 2011 at 10:23 pm
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That's awesome, Lori!
- August 6, 2011 at 10:07 pm
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It was great, wasn't it? I yelled out hi to you (your back was turned, lol) as you were going through the crowd, but you didn't hear me:) I think being such a crowded area, it's bound to happen, and there was so little time to talk to everyone!
Glad you won the wish! I missed hearing who got what
- August 6, 2011 at 9:59 pm
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Yay! so happy to hear about your free petrol. also extremely happy that you say "petrol" because I find that adorable. Over here we say "gas" which is pretty lame.
- August 6, 2011 at 9:54 pm
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I didn't get to meet you Lori, maybe next time. It was so busy and the time flew, congrats on the $500 very nice, no one likes to pay for petrol.
- August 6, 2011 at 9:39 pm
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I'm so glad I got to meet you at the bloggers brunch! Hope to see you again xx
- August 6, 2011 at 8:27 pm
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I can totally see how you made the mistake. I have to say, Tina looks a lot more friendly though. Score on the $500 worth of free petrol, it would definitely make all that travel a lot easier, especially with the price of petrol these days.
- August 6, 2011 at 8:02 pm
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When you got there and sat right in front of me but just out of poking reach I was doing the "TURN AROUND AND LOOK AT ME" stare, boring in to the back of your skull. I need to work on my psychic communications sills.
- August 6, 2011 at 7:53 pm
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I'm so glad that I was able to go to that bloggers brunch and listen to those inspiring women speak.
I love ya, Lori, but that was so freakin' funny! Oh yes, and I have gold medals too. Only mine have chocolate inside
xx - August 6, 2011 at 7:52 pm
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Ha ! It's an easy mistake to make. But we all know Tina is much nicer
Well done on the sweet petrol deal. I'm sure that really helps. - August 6, 2011 at 7:44 pm
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Lol. I am guilty of doing that smile thing to Emma at the bloggaroke. She smiled politely back and left the room quickly. I sat there thinking "OMG she hates me. I've scared her off!" Before realising she would not have a CLUE that I am me, so I rudely interrupted her a short time after and introduced myself.
$500 worth of petrol is a pretty sweet deal!
Previous post: F*ck.
Next post: Rememories.
All hail the Dreaded Mummy Bloggers. – RRSAHM
All hail the Dreaded Mummy Bloggers.
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.
Leave a Comment
{ 31 comments… read them below or add one }
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October 3, 2010 at 12:25 pm -
Bravo! You're a bloggin muthah! Wait…that didn't come out right…
- October 2, 2010 at 9:08 pm
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Loved this post! I blog about my life and my thoughts, and if that somehow defines me as a 'mummy blogger' then so be it. Like most of us I'm predominately a Mum, so hey, I even included that as part of my blog name! Even when I return to work full time, I'm still a Mum, and to me that will always be my first and foremost role in life. Why on earth should we be ashamed of that? I couldn't give a toss what people think!
- October 2, 2010 at 8:37 pm
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This is a BLOODY AWESOME POST Lori!!!! It was so, SO fantastic meeting you last week. You're one cool chick. Now please erase all memory of me licking the chocolate bowls clean, kthx.
XOX
- October 1, 2010 at 2:06 pm
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You know, I've never been the 'ra-ra' type, but damned if you haven't brought a proud tear to my mummy-blogging eye! Fuck it! I'm part of the gang and I LOVE IT!
Keeping it out there, raw and real,
Nadine - October 1, 2010 at 7:59 am
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Fantastic and so true. But I am continualy frustrated that so few Aussie companies and business do not understand the power of the mummy bloggers. They ignore us at their peril …(insert evil laugh…)
- October 1, 2010 at 7:24 am
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you nailed it. you will find out of the 'blogging world' people will already look at you strange when you just mention you are a blogger. say, all those people that post 25 short status updates or links per day on facebook. blogging has changed and diversified A LOT over the years. I think it's still a 'cool' thing to do. and since we have become moms now, alright, so it's mommy blogging. i am happy to be a mom, and like Veronica at sleepless night said, i think we should OWN the mommy blogging label !
- September 29, 2010 at 3:52 am
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I heard the words churros and chocolate and came over all funny. Sounds like you had a rockin time and what an empowering post! I especially like the fact that we could bring big companies to their knees!!!
- September 28, 2010 at 3:50 pm
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Yeah!!!! What she said!
- September 28, 2010 at 2:15 pm
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What a FAB bunch of gals to get together. Jealous!
I have no idea if I'm a mummy blogger or not, but I don't mind either way. Whatever I am, I like it.
x
- September 28, 2010 at 1:20 pm
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Hon – FANTASTIC post! Loved every word of it, and loved, loved, loved meeting you.
I am a Mummy Blogger too, and I'm proud of it.
xxx - September 28, 2010 at 12:45 pm
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thankyou for this — BRAVO!!!!
- September 28, 2010 at 11:54 am
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Glad you had so much fun rockin' with the other Mummy bloggers. Sister A and I have our tickets for AMB conference too, so we will see you there
- September 28, 2010 at 11:38 am
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yes yes yes!
The whole 'OMG you are a Mummy Blogger' feels just the same as the whole 'oh… you are just a mum' thing.
I just don't get why people have to judge and label and look down… who cares if I am a 'mummy blogger' if you like what I write you'll ead it, if you don't you won't. If you think I have influence you'll try to get me to write about your loaf of bread, if you really value you me you might even pay me what I deserve for doing it… if you don't you won't and I'll tell you (politely of course) where you can stick your loaf of bread!
- September 28, 2010 at 11:18 am
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Bravo! Great post!
I'm a proud mummy blogger. Oh and I also drink, swear, have sex (occasionally) and smoke (occasionally).
So good to meet you the other day, Lori! x
- September 28, 2010 at 11:08 am
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Fuck Yeah!!
can't wait to meet you at the conference. You rock. - September 28, 2010 at 9:05 am
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I'm sorry, you lost me after churros… Mmmmmmm churros.
No, really, I completely agree. And you know what else I'd like to add about it? I'm a Mummy and I'm a blogger, yes, it's always sat comfortably with me and I love all those points you raise in your post. But you forgot one, I think: I don't get interrupted when I blog! And I don't feel ignored when I blog. Those are two fundamentally important things, I think, when you're suddenly thrust into the world of 'mummydom', particularly if you previously used to work in an office where people, like, saw you as a person? And listened to your opinions and didn't expect you to wipe their bottoms and stuff? Or is that just me?
- September 28, 2010 at 2:25 am
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yeah but can you last more than one Summer month without putting the heating on? I doubt it – Dad Bloggers Rule
- September 28, 2010 at 12:35 am
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I guess we'd all best cover our arses: the mommy bloggers are on the way! lol
- September 27, 2010 at 11:28 pm
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And where was I when all of this meet up business was happening? Sitting on my couch watching my husband play guitar hero. Or, possibly doing the dishes.
And ALLLL because I live on the wrong continent.
Damnit. - September 27, 2010 at 11:06 pm
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I don't know you that well, but I feel like I know you and love you after reading this blog entry. I'm a Mummy Blogger and proud. And I've never read such interesting stuff in all my life. And yes, you make me Laugh. Out. Loud. (And no, I will not abbreviate.) You're THAT funny. xx
- September 27, 2010 at 9:34 pm
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*whispers* Thankyou <3
- September 27, 2010 at 9:14 pm
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I think I have just fallen in love with you all over again.
- September 27, 2010 at 9:08 pm
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Thank you Lori – I'm only just starting out with my blog, and was procrastinating because I felt uncomfortable with the Mummy Blogger term. But you're right – I should own it!
- September 27, 2010 at 9:07 pm
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Well fuck, i am jealous of the chocolate and OMG REAL LIFE INTERACTION??? You had! lol.
Own it, because i will shout it to the world i am damn PROUD to be a mummy. And shit, if i'm not writing about that…well it doesn't leave much to write about when i'm a mum 100% of the time and it's a pretty big job!
Plus it's always a good place to have records to go back and check "Oh when did Jimmy say his first word again? I'll just check my blog" lol.You can always talk cloth to me. I had a serious addiction, now that the last one is a toddler and getting closer and closer to toilet training every day, i'm trying to wean myself. IT'S HARD!
- September 27, 2010 at 8:54 pm
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Great post Lori. Anyone would think you were a rockin' Mummy Blogger or something.
- September 27, 2010 at 8:53 pm
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I'm with Lucy, I want to meet you all too now!! But I am kicking some arse on my farm, mummy blog style!!
- September 27, 2010 at 8:47 pm
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Yep. Arse kickers! I'd take that.xxx
- September 27, 2010 at 8:36 pm
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Exactly. I wrote about that this weekend too!
- September 27, 2010 at 8:32 pm
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Love. It. Wish I'd been there to meet you gorgeous ladies!
- September 27, 2010 at 8:30 pm
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Yep, screw it. I am a mummy blogger. It's a term. It doesn't define or own me. But it's a convenient label. And you know what? I'm proud to be a mum. I'm proud to be a writer. I'm proud I have passions and interests not limited to my role as a mother.
Mummyblogger here?
You bet your ass. - September 27, 2010 at 8:28 pm
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You rock. xxx
(And fuck me, I am so jealous of the fact that you all got to meet up.)
And I love the sheer volume of cool links you have this. Off to clickety click right now.
Lori, you're a star.
Previous post: The Dark Birth
Next post: Bath Time at the Purple House
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: The Things We Do For Our Kids…
You Don't Test A Miracle – RRSAHM
You Don’t Test A Miracle
January 9, 2012.
It is an onion day, as I thought it might be, and all I do is cry. I wake at a friends house and cry from the moment I get out of bed.
I’ve been feeling as though I need some form of physical pain for a week now, and a friend and I go for a long drive to the Mountains, to a piercer there. I get a bar of steel put sideways through my eyebrow and it hurts and that feels good. It’s just another marker, just another medallion… just another way to leach the pain out through my skin without cutting myself until I bleed.
As the sun goes down my heart breaks all over again… is it really a year, since I last curled up and slept by him? Even when he was unresponsive, even when he was technically already gone, it was still the ultimate comfort to lay down next to him and sleep, to curl myself against his skin. That’s what I remember most about that last night- curling up on his arm and feeling the warmth still in it, the strength, the broadness of it. I’ll never forget the smell of his skin. There was ceremony to it… I knew, that this was our last night together as husband and wife, and I told him that too. That hurts, but I suppose there is solace in it, one I’ve never realised before… I knew, and could appreciate fully, our last night together, despite the pain it bought. Some people never get that.
My mum takes my kids and I leave my house filthy, work to be done, and run. I drive as carefully as I can, sobbing all the way, talking to Tony in the emptiness of our car. Please, please.. I need something. Something. Something to tell me you love me. Something to tell me you’re still here. Something to tell me it’s all going to be OK.
I sleep the night on Bunny’s lounge. I fall asleep with tears in my eyes, and don’t wake up for fourteen hours.
***
The year before he dies, I gave Tony a ring for his birthday. It was expensive and something I knew he’d love. And he did.
God bless his socks, it took him only a month to lose it. He never told me he lost it, but he did tell my brother, worrying and fretting about how mad I’d be when I found out. I remember thinking a few times in the months before he died that I hadn’t seen that ring in while; but it wasn’t something I was particularly worried about. I think I suspected he’d lost it, but that it would turn up, like most of the things he misplaced (watch, phone, keys, even his shoes on one occasion).
It did turn up, eventually, about two days after he died. My mum was at my house, and took my toaster outside to shake the crumbs out. The ring fell out with them.
I think of that, after I ask him for a sign. Signs, omens, what common people consider to be small miracles… aren’t they mostly just happy coincidences with perfect timing? Not that that diminishes their power any, or shakes my ‘I think I believe’ faith in them… but how may happy coincidences can be left, after a year? How can he give me a sign, when there are no dominoes of fate left for him to tip, no mechanisms left on Earth to show it to me?
***
January 10th, 2011.
I sleep through half of this awful anniversary.
Half an hour after I wake- eyes swollen, really still asleep- my phone rings.
When a person becomes an organ donor in Australia, their family are given, amongst other things, a card to send off to a garden nursery. In return, they are sent back a Remembrance Rose- a specially bred rose bush only available to the parents, siblings, partners and children of organ donors.
We all sent our cards off months ago… February, I think mine went. While my Tony’s mother and sister received their roses within a few months, mine never came. I thought of it occasionally, but had mentally written it off- my card had been lost, perhaps. Or maybe the Universe just knew about my hesitation with the donation process and decided I wasn’t worthy of a rose.
It seems neither of things happened. The phone call I got was telling me my rose bush was ready, my name had made it’s way down the waiting list, and it would be posted today.
I hang up the phone slightly in shock. And I smile. If there are signs, then that feels like one. My rose, coincidentally- happily- posted on the anniversary of Tony’s death.
Bunny suggests that maybe the nursery waited, as a special condolence to me, maybe they do that with widows… wait for the anniversary of the death to call them and post out the rose.
It seems unlikely, but it makes me want to call them anyway, and check. In the end, I don’t. Years ago I had a friend who’s father was a devout Catholic with a set of rosary beads he prayed with daily, and had been praying with for years. Those beads had turned from silver to gold, an unexplainable alchemic reaction that it commonly noted amongst devout Catholics who often pray using the same set of beads.
“Hasn’t he taken them to a jeweler to have them tested, see what the metal is?” I asked her, skeptical.
“Of course not.” She smiles.
And why not, I ask? It’s simple, she replies. You don’t test a miracle.
It feels the same in this situation. You just don’t test a miracle. A sign is nothing but a happy coincidence… how it gets to me is meaningless.
Leave a Comment
{ 15 comments… read them below or add one }
- January 16, 2012 at 4:48 am
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Just came by to say I've been thinking of you this week. You did it. One year. Awed by your strength.
- January 12, 2012 at 11:51 pm
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Though I 100% percent believe in signs after death, I'm yet to receive one that I've recognised. Both my brother and my best friend (you know that friend that is the only one you can bitch to, laugh with, forget every important date about but you still love each other?) any who….. both of them passed on the same date (September 11) but different years. Neither being the year of the USA tragedy. I wait for such a sign…
Perhaps neither of them think I need a sign, either way… I believe in signs and I'm so happy that you, Lori, received one. You, more than anyone, certainly deserve one.
- January 12, 2012 at 10:16 am
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I believe in miracles and signs too. Thinking of you right now as the navigate the first anniversary of losing Tony.
- January 11, 2012 at 11:06 pm
- January 11, 2012 at 10:36 pm
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So glad you had a sign on this hard day. My thoughts are with you. Lots of love
- January 11, 2012 at 9:15 pm
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I think signs are always there… but it is us who perhaps stop seeing them after a while. xxx
- January 11, 2012 at 3:29 pm
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Lori I think it's just belief…not in any chosen,organised religion but just belief in whatever we choose to believe…..the messages will be there just believe that they will
- January 11, 2012 at 12:06 pm
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I think there will always be more signs for you Lori.
They may not be physical things you can touch, but there will be more. I think there are so many that you're probably not even aware of. A TV commercial, a smell, the way something may be said to you by someone….
I am so happy your got your sign on this day when you needed it. - January 11, 2012 at 7:44 am
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Love this post, love the miracles. This was always going to be a hard marker, right?
Not testing miracles? ye gods, nope, I have to rule out every possible and rational explanation first (but thats just me, wish I had that faith sometimes)
- January 11, 2012 at 7:05 am
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THose with faith dont test miracles… which means you've got faith Lori. And when you have faith – in whatever it may be – you have strength. We all know you do, so call on it when you need it. Thinking of you mate xx
- January 11, 2012 at 7:05 am
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THose with faith dont test miracles… which means you've got faith Lori. And when you have faith – in whatever it may be – you have strength. We all know you do, so call on it when you need it. Thinking of you mate xx
- January 11, 2012 at 7:05 am
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THose with faith dont test miracles… which means you've got faith Lori. And when you have faith – in whatever it may be – you have strength. We all know you do, so call on it when you need it. Thinking of you mate xx
- January 11, 2012 at 4:34 am
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Lori,
I'm sorry for your heartbreak. I'm sorry for your pain. There really aren't any other words to say…. I mean – even that sounds fake. I have to tell you – I love that you got a rose on that terrible day. And I love that you aren't testing it. And – I'm sure you don't care that I love it. But …. I really love that you shared those feelings. xo Kristen - January 11, 2012 at 2:50 am
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Lori – ever since I came across your blog a few months ago, I've been keeping up with you. Today is actually my birthday, but I thought of you as soon as I got up. I feel compelled to say something, but I'm not sure what…here goes…
I am sending positive, comforting thoughts your way. All the way from Texas (home of y'all and all things fried). And I'm one among many. When you can't quite "do this," we're here, by your side. And that's really all we can do, stand by you in solidarity. Support you. And we do. Because girl, you didn't choose this path, but you're walking it nonetheless. You're a great mom and and pretty kickass chick. Funny. Spunky. Inpsiring. And you're doing the best you can. I know it may not mean much coming from a complete stranger, but I'm so proud of you, girl. So proud.
I have had my fair share of piercings, my favorite are my daith piercings and my nose stud. The eyebrow looks great!
Take care.
Ginny
- January 11, 2012 at 1:02 am
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wow.
Not much to say really.
sending love. We have been thinking of you a lot this week.
I love signs. I believe. There are too many not to.
Previous post: There’s No Such Thing As Trauma.
Next post: Meet Lucy and Ethel
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: So… now what?
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Steamy Windows
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Brunching With a Tweet of Bloggers.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: RUOK- Part Two.
Paying Respects. – RRSAHM
Paying Respects.
Attending my husband’s funeral, just eight days After my world changed from normal to sad, was the most surreal thing I’ve ever done. The most surreal thing I think I ever will do.
I blogged that night, and I vaguely remember doing that, so exhausted, my eyes swollen and red like sandpaper, my mind still trying to play catch up with how the hell this happened to me, to us, to Tony.
There were so many people there.. hundreds of them. But when the long black car pulled up, and I managed to lift my body, which weighed a solid tonne with grief, from the gothic insides of it… there are people everywhere. All I can see are people.
And I know not a single one of them. there is not a face there I recognise and for a moment I wonder, bizarrely, if we are at the wrong place, wrong chapel, wrong crematorium. Then there are funeral directors and roses and we are led inside and my feet are so heavy and I don’t want to do this, I want to go home, but let’s just get it over with, I want it over.
They have an AV issue, they take forever to start.
And the only pall bearer I remember is my brother and I am so proud of him, what a long journey to make, what a heavy burden to carry.
And then I see the fucking roses on the coffin and they are purple and I know Tony’s sister ordered blue and yellow and I cannot stand that purple colour, I cannot do this, and I squeeze my mother’s hand and whisper “Not funny, Tony“, and I start to giggle hysterically, sobbing at the same time.
“Will you be OK to speak? Do you need someone with you?“
No, I say, this is what I do. I know I wanted to speak, I always knew, but I didn’t know what to say. Words tumble out my mouth, laced with salty tears and once I am done I expect to feel relief and there is none.
And the slideshow makes me cry, and so does the music. And funerals are so fucking horrible and hot and I want to go home, home to my Purple Life.
It’s when the curtains close, that I lose my ability to speak, to form words. I can do nothing but stare at the ground. That heaviness, it’s so complete it’s almost like it’s impossible to move, I will never do it again. I leave the chapel, feet dragging, eyes down, and sit in a gazebo outside and people come to ‘pay respects’ (fuck off and leave me be, please) and all I can do is stare at them.
People leave. I am one of the last to go.
I wish I’d gone to his coffin, once everyone left, and said goodbye.
I’m glad I didn’t.
We have stayed for so long, there is another family arriving, another funeral to begin soon.
Life, it goes on.
What a bitch.
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{ 16 comments… read them below or add one }
- June 6, 2011 at 1:47 am
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i am so so sorry for your loss. you are stronger than you realize.
- June 6, 2011 at 11:43 am
- June 5, 2011 at 10:49 pm
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My daughter's funeral was three years ago today actually. It was a very foggy day for me, very surreal. In many ways I disconnected.
I remember talking to my husband and someone had to tap me on the shoulder and point to the white car that my daughter's coffin was being driven away in. I didn't want to look at it. It was too sad. Too awful. I disconnected and watched it as though it were a movie… and all I could think about were the poor drivers who we going to go past this car, with the tiny white coffin and the bright pink fairy wings lying beside it… and how sad and sick that would probably make them feel.
I remember thinking that I just had to get through that funeral and then I can go home and hide away for a while.
I am so proud of you for speaking. We were never asked to or expected to. I sometimes wish I had.
xx
- June 5, 2011 at 10:06 pm
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I just feel so sad reading this, sad that you guys had to live it. ((HUG))
- June 5, 2011 at 7:14 pm
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So much of this sucked me right back to three years ago, the day of my daughter's funeral. The first few paragraphs especially. And yes, the line up of people with hugs and sorrowful looks. I just wanted to sink in to the ground with her.
I'm so sorry, Lori. The memories of that day are almost worse than the actual day I lost her.
xo - June 5, 2011 at 3:00 pm
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I havent had to attend too many in time ( thankfully ) but even as a mourner who wasnt extremely close to the deceased, funerals are no fun fair. They're miserable – even the bits where the person giving the eulogy tells a funny story about the deceased person, and everyone has a quite giggle or smirk to themselves. Even those bits are miserable. So well done to you for having made through and out the other side…
- June 5, 2011 at 2:47 pm
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I think the hardest thing for me was leaving the church …. walking behind the coffin, a child's hand in each of mine. I stared straight down at my shoes on the long walk out, then watched the boys load my husband into the back of the hearse. Then my SIL tapped me on the shoulder and started trying to introduce me to people and I just looked at her and wondered how she could just go on like this was some sort of party where I wanted to meet everyone. Surreal indeed.
- June 5, 2011 at 1:58 pm
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I'm not having a funeral either.
And if I do, I'm not going to be there.
Too fucking hard. - June 5, 2011 at 12:14 pm
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this brings a memory of my Sister-in-law's funeral where 99% of the town turned out, she was such a well-loved person.
Funerals are very, very hard.
I'm not having one. - June 5, 2011 at 12:05 pm
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Oh honey, I can't even begin to imagine how incredibly hard that was on you, how hard it still must be. You are one strong lady.
- June 5, 2011 at 11:54 am
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what brooke said.
i remember going to a funeral of someone very close to me and thinking similar thoughts.
kelly
- June 5, 2011 at 11:30 am
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Reading this, the only thing I can say is, "Ow." That hurt. That hurt me and I didn't even live it.
"I wish I had…. I'm glad I didn't." We have all been there. But few have been where you are. (thankfully)
- June 5, 2011 at 10:36 am
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Agree, Toni. We had to give one "for others"….. Apparently a necessary evil. I don't know. Lori, oh I so hear you on the paying respects conga line. So effing hard to receive. xo
- June 5, 2011 at 4:19 pm
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I did actually find my husband's funeral cathartic – it was good to see how many people came, some I had not seen for years, and from all over the country. I think the worst bit for me was getting into the car on the way there then seeing the hearse in front with the coffin, and having to follow that horrible box all the way to the crematorium knowing that my husband was inside it. With hindsight I would have driven myself there and waited for him.
- June 5, 2011 at 12:09 pm
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It is 18 years ago today that my father died. I tested pregnant that night.
I miscarried the next day.
Talk about surreal. I completely get what you write about today – although the circumstances were far less confronting.
- June 5, 2011 at 10:34 am
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They say funerals are for the living, for closure. Be damned if I can see how. They suck.
Previous post: A Very Long Memory
Next post: Soul Cancer.
Internet Dating v 3.1- Someone Like You. – RRSAHM
Internet Dating v 3.1- Someone Like You.
For those playing along at home, this all happened before I met (and was dumped by) Dear Brad.
It’s just that this one hurt more… so it had to sit, to ferment, that bit longer.
***
I find someone who is just like him.
The first time we speak on the phone I almost hang up the moment he says ’Hello?’ because his voice sends unnatural chills down my spine… for a moment there’s a queasy, sickening feeling that the world has turned inside out and time has reversed.
It hasn’t, of course. But the more I get to know this guy, the more I retain that sense that there is something else happening just beneath the surface of this reality, something just outside what our mental capacity can comprehend. As though all of us are akin to puppets on strings… and sometimes, the puppeteers are laughing.
This man I meet, he has a dog, a staffie just like Scarlette. He looks like him, speaks to me with the same adoration in his voice and views me as tiny, fragile, precious.
My whole life, everyone has pronounced my name the way it’s spelt phonetically– Lor–ree. The only person who ever said it differently was Tony, and, by osmosis, his mum– they both pronounced it Law–ree. I’d told Tony once I preferred it, it was prettier… and, for that simple reason- because I liked it- it stuck.
It took two weeks for this new guy to call me ’Law–ree’ and I leave his house in a daze, wondering what the hell is going on here… my head begins to weave serendipitous fairy tales and I think I may have been saved from myself, from my life… saved from something.
I’m wrong, of course… aren’t we always, where fairy tales are concerned?
I’ve found a mirror image, someone just like my husband… only as weeks pass I discover what I probably should have already known, what I do already know but, naively, failed to apply to this situation– if you happen to be looking at a photocopy, you only see the most intense parts of the original. If you make copy of a copy of a copy… the quality decreases every time.
And while I can see all the very best bits of my husband in this guy, the worst bits ring true as well. All the things I didn’t want to have to deal with over again, if I must choose a new partner for the rest of my life– selfishness, immaturity, emotional unavailability.
It hurts, letting it go, for a number of reasons. The loneliness engulfs me again. my self esteem dips lower than ever, compounded by the parting words of this bloke– “I hate talking on the phone to you. You make me depressed.” (Oh God he could not have come up with anything crueler to say had he tried… it stabs at me, rips me to pieces in the very heart of me, strips away anything I have built or thought or attempted to believe). And- selfishly, but not, both at one- it aches, knowing I’m essentially taking away a chance for my little boy to have some adult male company– I think that almost smarts the most.
And, of course, on top of all that… it simply feels like losing my husband all over again. There is still a deep, frozen ice cream tub of grief sitting somewhere in the middle of me. Occasionally, something will kick at me, something symbolic; and I’ll crack and thaw and allow myself to yield and dish out out huge, chunky scoops of mourning and tears and trauma and mess and pain.
It’s exhausting. It feels like being put through a wash cycle, spun hard and spat out again… only to discover you’re still as filthy as you were when you started.
Take a deep breath. Get on with life and stuff and kids and being me. And I try not to think too hard about it. If I do, if I examine this too closely (especially what he said, mostly what he said), then I may just explode.
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{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
- November 27, 2012 at 8:21 am
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My goodness, this happened to me. I had a shocker of a relationship a few years ago that ended pretty horribly. Recently I met someone who is exactly like the ex, right down to the heavy European accent. I ran a mile. Maybe this person is different, but I strongly believe in laws of attraction and I think when there's unfinished business like you and Tony, you just try to find a new Tony.
It sucks it didn't work out…but believe me, he did you a favour. You did not want that history repeating, especially for Chop. I think the both of us need to work out what it is we need to work out before we get sucked in again! If you figure it out before me…please blog about it!!!
- November 22, 2012 at 9:55 pm
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Oh darling, just because one guy makes a comment like that please do not feel that it is how you make everyone feel. At least not this girl. x
- November 22, 2012 at 10:12 am
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It's not selfish at all for you to not go down this 'known' path again. In fact, it's the opposite, it's you doing what's best for you and your kids.
Internet dating can be awesome. I spent five years with a guy I met online. It helps to be able to know from the outset that you share interests. But good things can also come from pursuing activities that you enjoy and meeting people there, because you know you have a common interest. For instance, I met my fella when I kicked him in the face at Muay Thai class – we share a common interest in kicking things… But luckily, we also have a lot more in common than that.
Also, no exploding. You think dating is hard? Try getting that mess off the walls.
x
- November 22, 2012 at 8:41 am
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I hate that the good qualities in someone shine the brightest because they have so many bad qualities.
Wishing you luck for next time, but I hope your fragility and esteem can repair itself a little in the meantime. You don't deserve these jerks.
Ps : I gave up Internet dating and I feel so much better about myself and men. I met a lovely boy two months ago, at a real life event, and though I know we are no more than friends, the time with him has been fun and he has treated me better than all the dicks I met on the Internet dating sites. Have made a great friend.
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{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
That is awesome!
Oh man that is hilarious!
LOL, Lori – Carina's a friend of mine and I helped her with #110 – a pic of a ship in a bottle in front of Captain Cook's cottage!
Best thing was that when I saw the mention of the feather boa and train, I thought, wow, I didn't know Lori was doing GISHWHES…not realising that you were helping out my mate!
Ah, Internets, you are awesome.
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Made me smile to see you so happy.
Great post, and thanks for sharing!
Awesome! So cool! I love your vlogs – it's nice to see your smiling face and the adorable faces and voices of your kidlets
thanks for sharing 
Hahahah I love this so much
What a fun post! Made me smile.
AH LORI THANK YOU SO MUCH!
I adored the video blog, it's so good to see what fun you had and I appreciate your help so much in achieving one of my tasks of GISHWHES!
The scavenger hunt is over, we're now awaiting the results and I will keep you posted!
Such a fun post!
How gorgeous are you to do that? Loved watching it, so easy to see how much fun you had!