Monthly Archives: May 2016
The Quiet Room. – RRSAHM
The Quiet Room.
This post… I dunno, it just feels like it needs a warning. It’s no fun.
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I’ve blogged before, about how it feels like a part of me is standing, screaming for help, baby clutched in her arms, her husband hanging from a beam in her backyard…
I’ve taken her in, that terrified, traumatised woman, and I do for her what I can.
But I really did leave someone behind there, on the 6th of January.
I left behind the Lori that had never lost anyone. The Lori that had never had to deal with huge trauma, with devastating pain.
She’s still there, caught in the cobweb ruins of what was her Purple Life. Caught in the perfect neighborhood she lived in. Frozen there, I think. Sometimes I wonder if you don’t have to die to be a ghost, just lose your whole life….
And I wonder if the ghost of the Purple Lori, the innocent Lori… I wonder if she wanders there, baby in her arms.
The Bump was wearing a pale yellow sundress. I haven’t seen it since that day. I hope someone threw it out. It feels like it has blood on it, even though there was no blood shed (although there was, he bit his tongue, and it bled badly, and they pried his jaw open to give him CPR…)
“Help me, somebody help me, somebody fucking help me…“
People running, my neighbours, from everywhere, so fast. I still don’t know how they got there that quickly.
“He’s hung himself,in the backyard, help him..“
My neighbour runs in and backs out, shakes his head, “Call an ambulance”.
“He’s dead, isn’t he? He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead…“
My neighbour has tears in his eyes as he hugs me and says that no, he’s fine, he’s going to be fine.
What the fuck? How the fuck? He was alive then unconscious and hanging doesn’t happen that like that and did he have a heart attack or snap his neck he couldn’t have his feet were touching the ground and suddenly I’m sitting on a chair in my neighbour’s driveway, and people are running everywhere and she’s asking me what happened and telling me to sit down, would I like a glass of water?
“Lori, where’s Chop?”
“Asleep, oh shit, oh please go and wake him up.”
And he leaves to do that and something inside me snaps again and I start to scream “Bring him round the front! Bring him round the front! Don’t take him through the backyard!!“
The world is reeling and my heart is beating out of my chest and where the fuck is everyone, why is there no commotion, where is the fucking ambulance?
Suddenly I see my son, in the arms of my neighbour, and I snap back, again.
I move us, myself, my children,behind the hedge so we can’t see as my neighbour run through my back gate. I hear sirens- so many sirens, hundreds of sirens, and I move us, I move my children further away, into this nice lady neighbours backyard. Another neighbour brings us lemonade in a bottle and a plastic cup and the kids fight over it and we discuss the Wiggles and Santa and PlaySchool. I am shaking and I remember sitting on prickly buffalo grass. I ring my mum “He’s dead mum, he’s hung himself and his dead, please come.” And I wait. It mustn’t be more than ten minutes.
It feels like an eternity.
It felt like the end of forever.
My mum arrives, just after they load Tony into an ambulance. My stepfather is crying when he reaches me, they take my children, and, without realising it, this is the moment I disconnect from my kids, and I stay that was for weeks.
The police (what are the police doing here? It’s obvious, now, suicide, it’s a crime, but I was far in shock….) ask me what happened. I say we were arguing, he did it in front of me, my neighbours gasps and cries out and hugs me and says he didn’t realise that (why didn’t I say that, to start with..? Would it have mattered..?). They ask me Tony’s birthday and I tell them and begin to sob, “Yesterday. It was his birthday just yesterday.”
A nice, comforting ambulance officer asks me who I have, to meet me at the hospital. My mum- she has my kids. I call my best friend, Auntie Mickey…
“Mickey? I need you. Please“, and she doesn’t even hesitate.
The ambulance officer drives me to the hospital- it will be two solid weeks before I drive again, and when I do, I reverse straight into someone’s car- and she tried to make small talk and I stare at her, not comprehending what she is saying.
And then I’m in an ugly, small room with ugly Australian colonial prints on the walls and they call it the Quiet Room but I doubt many souls are quiet here,most of them are screaming; and I’m curled in a ball on the lounge and my head is bursting, screaming, vomiting up the image, again and again- blue shirt, orange rope, his eyes rolled back in his head. It makes me physically shudder and I pull at my hair, hard, smackmyself in the skull with a closed fist, weeping, trying to bore the image from my head.
And then my best mate arrives. And she asked me have I called Tony’s mum, his sister and I haven’t. I do and it’s the hardest phone calls I’ve ever fucking made and I’m so terrified and I can hear them working on Tony and why hasn’t anyone come to tell us what the fuck is going on?
And then a doctor, no compassion, no bedside manner. He simply sits and says “The prognosis… is low.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“We don’t expect him to survive… if he does, he will be severely brain damaged.”
Until then.. until I looked into that doctors serious, stoic black eyes, I had thought… this couldn’t possibly happen. Not to me. Not like that. Not to Tony. Hanging, it doesn’t happen that way.
“The prognosis is low.”
And the bottom, it fell out of my world.
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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Falling Into Place
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: All This Stuff
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: It happens on Monday.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Run, Run, As Fast As You Can….
What's A God? – RRSAHM
What’s A God?
The discussions I have with my son amaze me. I wonder– was I ever this serious, this inquisitive? I doubt it. Or if I were, then I don’t remember it.
Or maybe I was, and my parents were never as determined to explore and explain things so completely. Why would they have been, when I never had the massive scope of stuff to deal with that my own children do?
Talking with my son stretches my mind some days to the point where I feel thoroughly stupid and have to resort to Google to satisfy his queries. My basic knowledge of how clouds form and burst and revert to low–lying fog is not nearly enough to sustain the curiosity of this child who wants more detail, who wants things to make more sense, and now, please.
“Why is that house so small?” Says the Chop one day, just a week or so before he starts Big School, as we’re cruising home, through the outskirts of the TinyTrainTown.
“It’s not a house, baby. It’s a church. And it’s small, I guess, because it only needed to be small– there weren’t a lot of people who used it.”
I see him thinking over this, tossing the concept back and forward is his mind like salad. “Poppy goes to church. But Nonna doesn’t. And neither do we.”
“That’s right”.
Another few beats of silence, and some missing link in his understanding occurs to him, a void of knowledge that has to be filled– they say young children learn more in seven years than we do in the rest of our lives.
“What’s a church?”
Dammit.
“Ummm. Well. It’s a nice place. It’s a place where people go to talk to God, I guess.”
There’s no way to explain the concept of church, really, without mentioning God. As unfortunate as that may be. Truly, exploring concepts like this– discussing what makes the world go round– it’s one of my favorite parts of being a parent. I love the feeling of attempting to look at the world through my children’s eyes, of straightening out ideas and constructs in order to make them more accessible. Some days it feels like taking to the complicated adult world with a veritable rolling pin of common sense, applying pressure until it becomes soft and malalble and spread out so mys on can see it properly.
Then I take cookie cutters of all shapes and sizes, press out hundreds of shapes, and attempt to bake away the cruelty of human nature, remove the worst of what’s there. In order to present my kids with a plate of perfectly cooked, but sensibly undecorated, shapes and constructs that are rich with the taste and texture of life.
Other days, its all just a massive pain in the arse. Never mind needing to consult Google to answer everything the child needs to know– some days I feel as though I am freaking Google. Some days, my creativity can’t keep up with his, my knowledge is no match for his burning desire to understand the world.
Evidently, it wasn’t one of those days. Otherwise I never would have bought up such a complicated concept as ‘God’ in the first place.
“Well”, I say, and think to myself– start at the beginning. That’s always a good place to start. (Or so Mary Poppins tells us. But I do think she may have the innate tendency to embellish the truth, sometimes). “Some people– like your Poppy, I guess– they believe that God is…”
And there I pause, temporarily lost for words. How do you describe what God is supposed to be? Especially if you’re not sure you believe in any kind of God yourself? And when you don’t want to lay blame on God for all the things that happen in the world, because maybe that would put all that zen–like understanding of death that you’ve attempted to instill in your son at risk? Or would it be better to give him a God, an entity who is responsible for how life rolls out, so he has someone to blame when he needs to, someone to be angry at for losing his father when he was so young and loved him so completely?
“… they believe that God is a very powerful thing. A something– not really a person, because God is much much bigger. He lives…” and again I pause, unsure of what to say. God lives in Heaven, of course, that’s what I was taught when I was a child. But for my children– my daughter, especially– their Daddy lives in Heaven. And Heaven is, of course, a very real place. How could it not be, when a very real person lives there?
And therein lies the oxymoron, the catch 22 of the situation. If there Daddy lives in Heaven, and he’s real, but I’m not necessarily sure God is real, how can I tell them in clear conscious that the two exist in the same place?
“… He lives just above Heaven I think. And some people believe that he watches overs everything and everyone.”
The Chop is frowning at me in the rear view mirror, not completely satisfied with this explanation yet. We’re only four kilometers from the TinyTrainHouse, and I know from past experience that this discussion will be forgotten, lost on far more important things like SkyLanders and harassing his sister, the moment the car’s wheels turn into our driveway. There’s a certain anxiety in me, a desperation, to complete this conversation before we get there. It feels important. How could it not be important, in the truth of things, when I’m essentially broaching the subject of religion with my son for the first time ever, when, ironically, he already understands the concept of Heaven in a way most five year olds never will?
“So that’s why some people go to church…” I state, feeling lame, the way I sometimes do when confronted with the burning speculation of a five year old member of the inquisition, “it’s a place to talk to God.”
“But how does God hear them?”
“Ah. Well, like I said, some people believe that God is watching everything. That he can see and hear everything. So he can definitely hear them, all the time. But going to Church means they can concentrate on what they would like to tell him.”
“So. That’s what some people believe. Poppy believes that. Nonna is… not sure. And Mummy…” I shake my head. “I’m not sure either, little man. Everyone gets to make up their own mind.”
“Do I get to make up my own mind?”
“Of course you do. We’re very lucky– we get to choose what we want to believe in.”
There’s another one of those contemplative silences that doesn’t really feel like a silence at all– it always seems as though I can hear my little man’s brain ticking over, his neurological gastronomy churning as he digests some new concept to the best of his ability.
“I don’t believe”, states my son, with all the confidence and conviction that I like to believe a safe and secure child radiates with. “Because a God can’t be watching over us. That’s a bit silly.”
I wait, in wonderment, anticipating the logic he is about to bestow on me– children always roll that dough of reason flatter than we do; my son teaches me more than I teach him.
“Our Daddy’s watching over us. He’s the one who does that.”
I can’t argue with that kind of logic, really.
The wheels turn into our driveway and the Chop’s bouncing around already, talking a mile a minute, previous conversation forgotten.
Which is good. Because I’m really not sure what else to say.
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{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
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February 11, 2013 at 10:00 pm -
Nice play Chop. I like how you responded too. For some reason the daughter of a mate of mine started asking questions about church and religion, and when I spoke to her mum about what she wanted me to say she told me that she was the one who had told Jessica (her daughter) to call and ask me! Although we (my mate and I) are both Catholic I find religion a deeply personal thing and something that she needed to hear about from her parents so I stuck with a conversation sort of like the below:
1) a church is where people talk to God. You know how people go to the gym to work out – same kind of thing. You don’t HAVE to go to church to talk to God just like you don’t have to go the gym to do an exercise class, but some people do because it helps them to concentrate really hard, it’s pretty quiet when everyone is there praying together.
2)Some people believe in God and others don’t. The people who do have different names for God. Just like people have different names for each other. And it’s OK. God is like the air to those people – they don’t need to be able to see the air in order to know it’s there. The important thing to know is that no matter what people believe that we treat each other with love and respect.That Chop’s a good egg…with Easter coming around soon do you think he will bring it up again?
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February 11, 2013 at 9:33 pm -
Well, I bet that was interesting. The Chop is pretty switched on Lori. Truly a very deep soul that boy. You’re lucky to have a soul like him with you. I don’t believe in a god (each to their own though) and I reckon you did well. And Chop? I’m kinda in awe at his wisdom
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February 11, 2013 at 7:43 pm -
Wow, what a concept to try and wrap your little noggin around at such a young age. I’d be terrible at such a discussion – I’m such a passionate atheist that it would be so hard to try and explain it in a way that was not biased and allowed them to make their own decisions. Dogma works both ways!
I think you did an excellent job.
Me? I was too dinosaur mad as a little kid to work around any organized religion. Kept getting thrown out of scripture class for ‘asking too many questions’.
Glad to see chop’s got an inquisitive mind!
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February 11, 2013 at 7:17 pm -
Never an easy question and I think you answered it beautifully. I believe in something, my husband in nothing. Our almost 11 year old days he doesn’t believe either. A decision he came to after asking many, many questions.
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February 11, 2013 at 5:29 pm -
Reminds me of a blog post I have in my drafts somewhere about a very similar conversation with my boys. I was surprised by how much they knew and how much it aligned with my own understanding of god. It’s a conversation we all have at some stage, don’t we?
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February 11, 2013 at 5:26 pm -
<3
Big questions hey?
Nice answers. Especially trying to fit dad in with it all
ps nice layout!! xx
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February 11, 2013 at 5:04 pm -
It’s a hard one. I’m a Catholic, up until recently was a Sunday churchgoer my whole life. My 8yo has hardly gone to church, and now tells me she doesn’t believe in God so why should she have to go to after school catechism classes.
Sigh. I’m trying to share my religion with her, but as she’s seen very little of it, she’s not interested. My 13.5yo son believes, but then he was in a Catholic school for his first year of school (transferred for Grade 1 to the state school due to bullying, which can happen at almost any school). And I used to take him to church with me. Yeah, we sat in the foyer (eventually he was diagnosed with ADHD lol), but we were there. Me developing anxiety & depression and having a very need unwell hubby didn’t help. I’m all better now but have not fitted church back into my life yet.
Ah the joys of parenting, eh?
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Travelling. – RRSAHM
Travelling.
I spend Monday combing, combing, combing. My daughter and I have a rampant case of head lice. I’ve never had them before, and find the tiny crawling bugs to be just about the ickiest thing I’ve ever encountered. The Bump is grimly fascinated with the concept of having eggs in her hair.
I spend Tuesday night in the dodgiest hotel on earth.
That might be a slight exaggeration. but only by a little bit. Albury is not known for its glamour.
The kidlets and I are driving to Sydney, for my brother’s engagement party. It’s a long haul– eight hours. But cheaper, marginally, to drive rather than fly, even with two night’s accommodation tacked on top of petrol costs. So that is what we do.
The reception office at this hotel is locked. Checking in requires walking the kidlets through a grotty, dingy pub, and presenting ourselves at the bar. It smells like cigarette smoke and footy. It’s an old scent, ground into the grungy carpet. It’s as old as the barflys themselves.
I take my kids out to eat Maccas for dinner and burn off some of that accumulated energy from sitting in the car for hours. They are good travellers, both of them. It’s one of those parenting oxymorons– three hours in the car leaves me exhausted, but them wired.
Our hotel room is tiny, three beds crammed into one room. A bar fridge and kettle hidden in a cupboard. A bathroom with the very basics. A letter from the local police constable, reminding us to lock up our car and hotel room and keep the blinds drawn, is tucked into the hotel service book. The Foxtel channels don’t work, nor does the wifi. The three of us curl into the double bed and watch movies on my iPad.
I’m tired, so so tired. I have pimples on my face, my hair needs a good dye job. I’d underestimated how easy I had it, in TinyTrainTown. This full time parenting gig is hard slog.
But I’m loving my kids so hard right now. They are such a comfort, a balm to anxiety and adult fears. Right here, between them, their sleepy blonde heads on my lap… this is where I’m supposed to be.
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{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }
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November 22, 2013 at 3:46 pm -
“The reception office at this hotel is locked. Checking in requires walking the kidlets through a grotty, dingy pub, and presenting ourselves at the bar”
Oh Lori, so sorry that Albury left such a bad taste in your mouth and bugs in your hair. Try Wodonga (on the Victorian side of the river) for you next visit. We promise to treat you better.-
November 24, 2013 at 6:31 pm -
It’s okay Louise
I’ve made an executive decision to visit as many towns between here and Sydney as possible. Wodonga’s next on the list! x
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November 15, 2013 at 10:30 am -
One of those things they never tell you about parenting is just how much your children will give you. It’s got to be my favorite surprise.
Miss Pink recently posted…What does Magique, Million and SuperLiner all have in common?
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November 14, 2013 at 12:45 pm -
“It smells like cigarette smoke and footy. It’s an old scent, ground into the grungy carpet. It’s as old as the barflys themselves.”
Oh, oh. I know that smell. I grew up in a small coastal town pub (my mum worked there) and walking into some old pubs still gives me flashbacks to being a kid.
Glad your kidlets are bringing you such comfort on a lonely pub-hotel night…
Whoa, Molly! recently posted…What do you know? -
November 14, 2013 at 10:07 am -
this http://www.microscopy-uk.org.uk/theliceprogram/theprogram.html holds the best advice I was ever given about nits. It explains about their life cycle, why they ‘come back’ and how to stop it, it shows how chemicals don’t work and what does work. It just takes time and dedication, cheap conditioner and a metal comb. Good Luck.
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November 14, 2013 at 8:03 am -
I think I already Tweeted you that hair dye is the sure-fire way to get rid of the creepies. AND you look fabulous. Your hair is short enough that for $10 and 20 minutes you should be set. Back when my daughter was about 8, she caught lice from spending the night with someone who had it…we did the shampooing and the combing…a week later they were back…we boiled the sheets, we got new pillows…we shampooed and combed…a week later, they were back, but not so many. We tried Tea Tree oil. Finally…hair dye.
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Guest Who?
Guest Who?
I know a lot of you have been following the story of Darrell and his struggle with his employer, DFAT. The following was written by Aaimi, Darrell’s mum.
I just… don’t even know what to say.
What a massive pack of cowards.
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As a result of Darrell’s continuing battle against bullying within DFAT ranks, Darrell’s parents (Darrell Snr and Aaimi) started their own campaign to make the interested parties aware of the unacceptable level of leadership and management within DFAT and other public sector institutions. Their campaign flag ship is the Anti-Bullying and Discrimination League of Australia (ABDLA). Under this banner and with the aid of social media, they began to spread the message of their son’s plight and the inadequacies of a range of senior level Australian public servants. In order to further their crusade, Darrell Snr and Aaimi obtained, through a family member, some pointed but reserved merchandise (T-Shirts, pens, pencils etc.,) advertising the following message, ‘Stop Bullying in DFAT’. This material was sent to a number of politicians from both sides of the House to inform and to engender a reaction. In addition, a number of individuals were sent an e-mail as follows:
“As part of our anti-bullying campaign we have produced numerous promotional items to raise awareness of bullying and discrimination issues in Australia. Particularly, as we understand, conducted by yourself and others in the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade.
We are freely distributing this material widely (internationally), noting you as a person who contributes to bullying and harassment in Australia and potentially the international community.
Regards
The Anti-Bullying and Discrimination League of Australia”
Meant to be provocative, Darrell Snr and Aaimi to date have not received a single reply or rebuttal to these e-mails.
In addition to the above actions, a partition to stop the bullying in DFAT was also started via social media, which has received support from people both here in Australia and from overseas.
Without any reasonable preliminary investigation, Mr Peter Varghese, Secretary DFAT, through Mr Chris Moriatis, First Assistant Secretary, Corporate Management Division, has suspended Darrell Jnr pending an investigation into possible breaches of the Australian Public Service Code of Conduct.
Darrell Snr upon hearing what had happened to his son attempted to contact Mr Varghese in order to clarify that his son had nothing to do with the Anti-Bullying and Discrimination League of Australia activities. Darrell Snr was told that there was no one available in Mr Varghese’s office/area, but someone would return his call. Darrell Snr is still waiting for that call. The office of Senator Bob Carr (Minister for DFAT) was also contacted, but Darrell Snr was told the matter was an internal DFAT issue that should be referred to Mr Varghese. (Somewhat difficult when he won’t accept your call!).
Darrell Snr and Aaimi will continue to promote the fight against bullying and discrimination in the workplace and demand leadership from executive level APS throughout Australia. Further attempts will be made to reverse the suspension of their son and to seek assurances that bullying is investigated and offenders and their supporters are held accountable.
Who is responsible for bullying in the workplace? There at least three groups responsible for bullying in the workplace; the actual individual who initiates or continues the bullying; those that are aware of the bullying and do nothing; and senior management or in the case of DFAT, the Secretary, Deputy Secretaries and Executive level officers. In the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade – Enterprise Agreement 2011-1014, the following statement is made:
Harassment, bullying and discrimination are unacceptable in DFAT and contrary to the APS Values and Code of Conduct. The department is committed to providing a fair, flexible, safe and rewarding workplace, where all employees are responsible for promoting a work environment free from harassment, bullying or discrimination. Managers and supervisors have particular responsibilities for implementing the department’s Workplace Diversity Program as set out in the HRM, being alert to diversity issues in the workplace and taking timely action in response to reported or observed harassment, bullying or discrimination. The department does not tolerate behaviour which undermines morale and productivity and which, if not dealt with, can harm the wellbeing and performance of individuals and work units.
The fact that the Secretary and his senior executive team cannot honour this laudable sentiment indicates that they have failed in their responsibilities as the appointed leaders of the Department.
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My challenge to Aussie journos still stands… does anyone have the balls for this?
{ 4 comments }
There’s nothing much I can say here, really. Take it away, Mel…
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I spoke to Lori quite some time ago about writing a post her blog. This blog. She threw the doors open and said I could choose my topic. Write about anything, she said, go nuts. Or some version of that. I have adhered to her instructions perfectly and driven myself around the bend and back again attempting to write THE perfect guest post for her. I think, in the end I did it. It’s a perfect balance of me and her. It’s us in a blog post. It came to me one day as I drank another litre of coffee, tapped away at the keyboard for the millionth time. And it was perfect.
The selection of a topic was the first hurdle I encountered. What do I write about? My blog is about me, me, me, me, which hardly translates to someone else’s blog. So I considered writing something like 5 steps to get and stay happy. But it seemed trivial in the face of the serious business that is this blog. And my friends, well they tell me, that I write better if I’m not trying too hard. I considered writing about my life. But most of you don’t know me, so that’s probably not that interesting to you. There’s no relatedness. No connection {yet! I’ll get you. Love me, love me!}. I considered writing about the darkness, when it creeps up on you. My own struggles with bipolar and anxiety. And I did. But I went and posted it on my blog. Whoops.
In the end, I decided to write a post about what goes through the mind of one blogger when you give her an open forum and free rein. So my very next concern is delivering something of quality. Of substance. Or at very least a post that entertains. I post once or twice a day on my own blog, all the good stuff goes there {brilliant, riveting, hilarious. Promise}. Sometimes I write a post and I’m like, meh, I’ll keep that one. To write a guest post is a selfless act indeed. To hand over something that is good, maybe even better than what you have written for your own blog in a while, to someone else to publish is hard. And if you ask my Mum, well, I just don’t share very well. But in spite of this I start to write anyway. I start to form the words, they appear on the screen one after another after another.
Then come the vanity concerns. What if they don’t get me? Worse. What if they don’t LIKE ME!? What if her readers are annoyed at the sudden hand over of this space to a new face? What if, panic, gag, they demand Lori reclaim the space and purge me from it immediately? All concerns triggered by my ego and that little voice inside me that reminds me day after day in its finicky little voice in my head, that no, no one likes you, you’re not very smart and I think your nose is too big. Bet you’ve had your own encounter with that fellow. He’s a jerk.
So it takes a while and soon I just let go and let God. Or, you know, whoever is in charge of such things. I think deep down it could be me, but don’t tell anyone. And I write. I write about my fears, my triumphs and I write about the things that make us the same person, connected by our human being’ness. I write this post and I realise, it’s kind of perfect for Lori’s beautiful blog. It’s a post that is what it is. It’s beautiful in its own way, lilting like a song, challenging too. It talks to the frailness of the human spirit, the need for community and for love. The desperate searching if those things are lacking.
It turns the corner and my blog post about guest posting becomes a lesson in life’s lessons. It becomes a lesson is letting go of the things you can’t control. It’s a lesson in friendship and the things we do to help out our friends. It becomes about community and love and personal battles. It’s a manifesto of blogging from the core of your being and allowing all things their time. Seasons change and all that. And just like that, it’s done.
It’s perfect. I send it off. I smile, content.
This is not that post.
This is just a tribute.
HA.
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Melissa Walker Horn is the chief blogger at Suger Coat It, a blog about living the sweet life. Known as Suger on her blog, Melissa loves her family, too much butter on fresh bread, laughing with your back teeth showing and anything with stripes on it. A social media addict and consultant, you’ll find her anywhere you search for Suger with an E.
{ 5 comments }
I like interesting people… meet The Plumbette.
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Can you really have it all? I’ve asked myself this question so many times because I WANT it all, but I’m pretty sure I can’t HANDLE it all at once.
My name is Rebecca Senyard, and I am a female plumber or plumbette, a stylist, a blogger, a wife, a mother, and soon-to-be mum to another bub. The more I get older, the more responsibilities I either get handed to me or throw myself into.
Being a female plumber can be daunting but it can be extremely satisfying helping people in a practical way. Did I always want to be a plumber? No. As I grew up and watched my dad run a plumbing business, the passion for plumbing did not get passed down to me, but the determination to build a business that assisted others did.
Just to be up front now, I’m not a tomboy and I’m not gay. Never have been or intend to be. No discrimination or judgement here from ladies who are! I love my dresses, my shoes, make-up and shopping like any other woman and just because I choose to work in a male dominant industry, doesn’t mean I have to ‘grow balls’ to be noticed or taken seriously. I get noticed without trying. I stick out like a sore thumb, but for the right reasons – for doing my job well and offering an alternative choice for stay at home mum’s who wish to use the services of a female plumber.
Since becoming a mum, I have enjoyed being a plumber more. I love interacting with our clients, assisting them with their plumbing problems and being able to work when I want. I work with my dad as a ‘dad and daughter’ plumbing team. I will admit that there are some plumbing jobs I just don’t have the strength to do on my own, but working with my dad means I won’t get stuck, and since my dad is semi-retired, it allows him to keep active too.
Doing my plumbing apprenticeship was one of the hardest experiences I have ever gone through. It’s no cliché that apprentice boys like to talk dirty. Porn magazines were the norm at TAFE, as was the swearing and rough talk. For me, I found TAFE the hardest part of my apprenticeship to deal with. For some strange reason, I wanted to ‘fit in’ and yet, the values these blokes had were so far below my own. It made me realise how important it is to all of us to be accepted and to not feel left out.
In the last year of my apprenticeship, I had to finish 3 blocks of TAFE (approximately 12 weeks). Every lunch break, the apprentices would have lunch at the local pub that had topless waitresses. Totally not my scene. So I went to the library and decided to Study a Diploma in Fashion Styling. It was completely random and opposite to plumbing and I loved every part of the course. I started a part-time styling business called Styled By Bec – really as a back-up if I ever chose to leave plumbing.
Nowadays, I work 1 to 2 days a week on the tools as a plumber, I blog about being a plumber and offering advice about problems I come across in my trade on The Plumbette, I style clients and sell jewellery on Madeit.com.au as per client demand and I have a fabulous husband whom I have been married to for over 7 years and 1.5 kids! I love my life, and enjoy all the hats I choose to put on. My constants are my husband and my daughter (and soon to be baby). They take priority – all the other roles assist with being able to pay for the bills or keep my mind active. As most mum’s know it can be hard work being a full-time stay at home mum and sometimes… it can be boring.
I’m not perfect. I struggle with balancing work and family. My life isn’t perfect. I know that life can be hard, but we have a choice to be real and be positive no matter what is going on in our lives.
I have faith in God. I always believe that things happen to us for a reason and God is able to do immeasurably more than we can think or imagine. I have never felt more close to God than when I was struggling to do my apprenticeship. Four years later He honoured me with Dux Plumbing Apprentice of the Year for 2009 and the Judges Outstanding Achievement award at the Construction Skills QLD Awards in the same year. There are always rainbows after the rain, but sometimes we miss them because we are so focused on how the rain is stopping us from getting to where we want to be.
So can we really have it all? Yes and no. I think it comes down to choice – choosing to be content with what can’t be changed, and changing what we can despite the risk.
***
Rebecca Senyard is Brisbane’s Award winning plumbette! She started her apprenticeship in 2006 and received her provisional plumbing and drainage license early 2011. The Plumbette is Rebecca’s blog on all things plumbing, including experiences working in a ‘man’s world’. It’s Plumbing worth blogging about! This blog is written for men and women who haven’t a clue about plumbing and want to know more, for plumbers and apprentices who can relate to Rebecca’s experiences, and for girls who wish to embark on a career as a plumber or in any other male-dominated profession. It’s really for anyone who wants to read it and be inspired or thankful that they don’t get to deal with what plumbers deal with everyday!
{ 2 comments }
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Not Speaking About Just Everything…
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Not OK.
iSinging in the Rain. – RRSAHM
iSinging in the Rain.
iHello everybody,
It’s MummyTime’s iHappy Monday, where we all use our imaginary, pyshcic iPhone apps to take pictures of things that make us happy. Being slightly brain dead as I am (which I blame entirely on the children), I’ve forgotten to play the last two weeks. So this one had better be good, eh?
OK, the rain sucks, but how much fun is splashing in puddles….
….and building cubby houses in the lounge room?
Viva la ‘sock monkey’ toy I found at the markets for a super bargain price. As the name suggests, it’s made out of a pair of stripy knee high socks. The Bump lurves it. And so do I.
Visits to Poppy Pete’s farm to feed the sheep and admire the scenery (and so Mummy can take some photos of random crap like fence posts)
Two forward-facing children in their forward facing carseats. At ten months old and eight kilos, the Bump has finally grown out of her capsule. Which freaks me right out. But how cute is the scene in the rear view mirror?
How I’d do? Pretty cool happy happy joy joys, yes? Yes! And I even remembered the button (the real one this time, not my defaced version). Ta da!!
Leave a Comment
{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
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July 14, 2010 at 11:03 pm -
Love your pics! Yup you did good! My fAves include fence post and rain coated small child. Your bump is beautiful also!
- July 13, 2010 at 9:32 am
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So cute! The rear view pic is adorable. Love the sock monkey guy too-
- July 12, 2010 at 7:31 pm
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Oh, how cute. Gorgeous pics there.
xxx - July 12, 2010 at 2:47 pm
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Chop looks so happy in the last one
- July 12, 2010 at 2:29 pm
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Raincoats and gumboots are glorious things
- July 12, 2010 at 2:19 pm
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Lovely rear view! (I bet you hear that all the time)
- July 12, 2010 at 12:02 pm
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I love them!! And we totally do the cubbyhouses in the loungeroom too!
And look at your kidlets. Way cute!!
- July 12, 2010 at 7:12 am
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What wonderful pictures.
- July 12, 2010 at 2:14 pm
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Gorgeous shots Lori!
- July 12, 2010 at 8:37 am
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Too cute!
Previous post: Shameless Self Promotion
Next post: Has anyone seen my Cleaning Fairy?
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: The Things We Do For Our Kids…
Stuff That Collects Dust – RRSAHM
Stuff That Collects Dust
Achoo,
So.. Lucy told you about her favorite domestic space invader yesterday, I’m hoping the lovely Sarah is booked in for tomorrow, so today it’s my turn.
Allow me to have a disclaimer here, yes? Like Lucy, I’m not generally a fussy, nick nack, bric a brac kind of chick. All that stuff requires dusting. I don’t have time for that. Ornaments, with the exception of photos in frames, are generally evil. I do my best not to allow them to infiltrate my life.
I know. The FlyLady would be proud.
Every know and then, however, I get given a dust collector that actually has sentimental value. One that I keep. It still collects dust, for sure. But I feel no sense of resentment, cleaning it off.
Allow me to introduce you to my favorite dust-collector. It’s a book. Called the World’s Greatest Mum. And, would you believe, my mummy made it for me?
Well, kind of. She bought a picture book, and then worked her magic. See? That’s me, in my clown paint, making balloon animals. As I do. Really.
My mum went through every page of this picture book. And replaced the pictures of the cartoon mum with pictures of me.
And not even just me. She included the Chop and our dog….
.. and she made sure every photo was perfect- looking the right way…
… and with the right expression!
It must have taken her hours of finding, fiddling, printing, cutting and pasting. I’ll even bet there was no swearing involved, because my mum is patient and lady like, unlike me, and she does not have any use for cuss words. Bless her.
It goes down as the nicest, most thoughtful present I’ve ever gotten off anyone. It’s actually something I would think to grab of the house was on fire (after, ya know, the kids, dog, cat, Man, my engagement ring and a clean pair of undies. Mum would be proud.).
Awesomeness, hey? What’s your favorite sentimental piece of crap that collects dust but you just couldn’t bear to part with? If you didn’t chime in yesterday, tell me all about it today…
Leave a Comment
{ 22 comments… read them below or add one }
- September 10, 2010 at 11:41 pm
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That is all sorts of fantastic. Ahem, I must admit to being a bit of an ornament person, yep, dust collectors and all. Thought they are tasteful. Well except for the gaudy purple and gold box which my grandmother bought me!
- September 10, 2010 at 4:21 pm
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That is gorgeous, I love sentimental things. I bought my partner a Why I Love My Daddy book with a pic of him in it with Miss A and he had a tear in his eye on Father's Day. I think deep down we're all soft and mushy.
Oh, and I have to tell you I looked at those Victorian Mourning pics last night and I couldn't get to sleep!! - September 10, 2010 at 2:02 pm
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Oh that's such a lovely gift! I've got so many sentimental gifts…my Nan's wedding ring (not a dust collector tho), my 4yo's bookmarks, heart cards, and pictures he's done for me…
- September 10, 2010 at 9:31 am
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What a great mum! Both of you! This is just too sweet. Not a dust collector at all – books are allowed, you know.
When Maxi-Taxi was born and he was the worst sleeping newborn in the history of the world, my mum came to stay and help me through (CS). One night she was sitting with him curled on her lap (you know the newborn mouse positino) and sent me to bed at 8pm. She said she would wake me when he was due a feed at eleven. Well, at 4am she came and woke me from the longest sleep I'd had in weeks. She sat there with that child in her arms for 8 hours through the dead of night. When I said to her "Mum, you don't have to do that, really!" she said "Bronny, you take care of your baby, and I'll take care of mine." Still brings a tear to this day. x
- September 10, 2010 at 7:10 am
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That is an awesome gift!
- September 10, 2010 at 7:17 am
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Bless your mum-that's ace!
- September 9, 2010 at 5:20 pm
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An i do hope that you bought her a similar mum of awesomeness book back and spent a suitable amount of time persanlising it?
M2M
- September 8, 2010 at 9:20 pm
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Awww do you really class that as a sentimental piece of crap? It's awesomeness personified. Or… bookified?? That is just the most loving gift.
- September 8, 2010 at 9:16 pm
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I want one of those!!!
- September 8, 2010 at 8:07 pm
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That is one amazing gift. I am sure your mum would be thrilled that you would save it in the event of a fire.
- September 8, 2010 at 5:42 pm
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Your mum is awesome!!! What a fantastic gift. I can't think of one single thing that is the head dust gatherer in my house – I'm a hoarder of all things sentimental…
- September 8, 2010 at 3:05 pm
- September 8, 2010 at 10:36 am
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Sooo cool
- September 8, 2010 at 9:43 am
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Fist Pumps for Moms!
I have a set of these two creepy chinese porceline ornament thingys that I keep on my dresser. The arms are broken off but they remind me of my grandma…with arms of course. No, she let me play with them when I was a wee one and when she passed that was the only thing I wanted.
- September 8, 2010 at 8:53 am
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That is so awesome for your mom to do that. It makes me want to do it for my daughter and daughter-in-law.
- September 8, 2010 at 7:56 am
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That book is tres awesome! As for my favourite knick knack, i dont really have one. I have a collection of Buddhas but if my house were on fire i dont think i could be bothered going back in just to get them…
- September 8, 2010 at 7:41 am
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Your mom is the bomb. No. The bombdiggity!- And I have not used that phrase since 1996 so you can see how serious I am.
Cool book. I love it. - September 8, 2010 at 7:22 am
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That IS awesome! She put in so much time and creativity on this gift! Fantastic!
- September 8, 2010 at 7:16 am
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I want your Mum. That is adorable.
- September 8, 2010 at 7:06 am
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Everything in my house collects dust. It's so annoying.
- September 8, 2010 at 10:00 am
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oh WOW, how cool is your mum?????
I have a house full of sentimental crap. It better not ever catch fire cos I can't save it all.
- September 8, 2010 at 7:42 am
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What a wonderful gift! I love that she went to all that effort for you!
Previous post: Form & Function?
Next post: Collecting Dust…..
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: The Finger
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Soul Cancer.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Sunday, Just Me.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Another New House In Paradise….
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: The Psychology of Phraseology
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Things I just do not get….
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Things I just do not get….
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Give me CommentLuv. It’s What *Totally* Awesome People Do.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Fuck You Too.
The Photo Meme of Mystery – RRSAHM
The Photo Meme of Mystery
Hey dere,
I’ve been tagged by Sarah in an awesome game called The Photo Meme of Mystery. Proudly stole-d off Jamie over at The Life & Times of a Househusband, the idea is…..
1. Open the first (oldest) photo folder in your computer library
2. Scroll to the 10th photo
3. Post the photo and the story behind it
4. Tag 5 or more people to continue the thread.
So here’s my piccie. Of my Chop. Cute, isn’t he? This was taken by Auntie Mickey about 10 minutes after he was born. He was amazingly clean and good looking for a newborn.
But it just makes me sad. This was the beginning of a long, dark road. While it seems like a beautiful photo of a new life, to me it was the beginning of the Darkness.
I’m happy to say, the second time around I experienced all the joy a newborn baby is supposed to bring. I only wish I could say it for the first time too.
OK, enough of that serious-ness. Here’s the tag list…
Jen @ Jemikaan.
Kakka @ Menopausal Mumma.
Gemma @ Sometimes You Just Need To Vent
Ratz @ What Can I Say!
Happy meme-ing people….
Leave a Comment
{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
- April 11, 2010 at 8:53 am
- April 10, 2010 at 9:24 pm
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He is peachy. Sad that it was the start of a dark road. But he is still bloody gorgeous.
- April 10, 2010 at 5:39 pm
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Awwww, isn't he lovely!?
Sorry it was such a dark time for you. x - April 10, 2010 at 4:23 pm
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Uh-oh. Will do my best, but have to do a very important post first.
Previous post: Auntie Mickey
Next post: The Finger
The Simple Life – RRSAHM
The Simple Life
Someone asked me on Twitter the other day, is this simple life I’m living more conducive to healing, easier on the soul, than suburban living…?
And the answer is yes. Oh my, yes.
It takes some getting used… I’ve been here almost a month and somethings still take me surprise. No Macca’s, no 24 hour anything, and all the shops closed Sunday and Monday… I can get used to that. I am getting used to that. My kids, of course, don’t know the difference.
It’s a fair trade, I think, for this. It’s so quiet here, and people are so friendly. I’m still paranoid, and I still worry about people talking about me… they probably are talking about me. But here, I think, the prominent emotion would be sympathy, not hatred. Empathy, perhaps, rather than blame.
That makes it easier.
Apart from the convenience, and having the people I love dearly close by… there’s not a lot I can miss. My large, two storey house was beautiful, but this little cottage with it’s huge fenced yard is so perfect for us and easy to keep clean and organised and goodness knows we had too much stuff anyway…
I miss my children’s playgroup, and I think, so do they, but we will find another one of those, and soon. One just out of the area, a half hour or so away, that sounds like a perfect medium between my insecurities and my children’s needs.
And my little neighborhood… I loved it so much… but how can I miss it when it turned so sour? How can I miss the short walk to the duck pond, to the playground, when here it’s just a short drive to the beach?
The air here is clean and perfect and the sky, on days like today, is so perfectly blue and huge. There are trees everywhere- that must be why the air here is so gorgeous.
And it’s just the lifestyle. No one here is in a rush, there always seems to be time to go to the beach, to fish, to walk to the river. I remember how much of a rush I was always in,how exhausted I was at the end of every day, having spent the whole day getting not much done… and I wonder what it was I was doing, how it was that i was so busy. I seem to get the same basics done here… and I still find time to sit, to relax.
It’s so good for my soul. It takes so long to ease into it. I remind myself, a hundred times a day, that this knot of anxiety in my chest is unfounded, that right at this second, there is nothing to stress out about.
It’s beautiful here. It’s good for me. It’s good for my soul.
Simple.
Leave a Comment
{ 40 comments… read them below or add one }
- April 29, 2011 at 11:53 am
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What a perfect place. I'm so glad you chose to move there. Be still. And just be. xx
- April 26, 2011 at 3:04 pm
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Sounds beautiful xox
- April 21, 2011 at 7:09 pm
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I'm glad you found somewhere beautiful to heal. I am sure it will make a world of difference. xo
- April 20, 2011 at 6:46 pm
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Pardon my lack of previous commenting i have only been stalking for a little while, I am so happy that you are back in paradise, you certainly deserve some peace and tranquility about now! Your strength is inspiring.
Take care - April 20, 2011 at 4:20 pm
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So glad to hear this– hope you have a time of rest and rejuvenation…. if anyone needs it you guys do!
- April 20, 2011 at 12:36 pm
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I am so happy to have read this and hear you are literally finding breathing space again in your world. Hope it continues to help you blossom and heal xx
- April 20, 2011 at 10:49 am
- April 20, 2011 at 8:40 am
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Oh, that was me that asked you, that's cool!
I love this post, I think it's my favourite I've read by you. It makes me feel relaxed by association, and it makes me dream of a time when I can do the same, but hopefully in happier circumstances. When you mentioned you get the same stuff done and you dont know why you used to rush or what you did differently, that struck a chord. I am in a constant state of rushing, but what for? You have me thinking. - April 20, 2011 at 8:32 am
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I don't know you at all, having simply found your blog through The Bloggess, but despite that…I feel like I can breathe more easily knowing that you have found something that is doing you good right now. Maybe it's weird to know that a stranger is thinking about you and wishing she could somehow make it all better…but I am.
- April 20, 2011 at 7:48 am
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Lori,
Find solice anyway you can.Be kind to your heart.Your new little peice of solitude sounds perfect.I hope you and your little ones find happiness there. - April 20, 2011 at 3:24 am
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Good, I'm glad you're healing. You sound better.
- April 20, 2011 at 2:14 am
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That sounds so, so nice. Blessings to you and the little ones.
- April 19, 2011 at 8:42 pm
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So wonderful to hear that you are living somewhere that feels like home….a place where your hearts can begin to heal xx
- April 19, 2011 at 8:19 pm
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Sounds simply divine Lori. And it makes me smile to hear that you're soaking it all up xxx
- April 19, 2011 at 8:13 pm
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Sounds like bliss. And you deserve it xx
- April 19, 2011 at 7:58 pm
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I love that your finding some kind of peace these days. But – the shops arent even open on Monday? And i thought Dubbo had some strange habits…
- April 19, 2011 at 7:23 pm
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So I'm moving in. Best send directions. It sounds heavenly calm, peaceful and quiet. I wonder if I could just send my kids, actually? You know, if you don't have room for all of us! So glad you've found a comfy place
- April 19, 2011 at 7:19 pm
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This place seems like it was made for you and the kids. Happy healing!
- April 19, 2011 at 7:07 pm
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About bloody time…you deserve it.
- April 19, 2011 at 6:54 pm
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I'm so very glad that the simple life is healing your soul.
- April 19, 2011 at 5:44 pm
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Nice. And I relate. X
- April 19, 2011 at 5:15 pm
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It sounds like a lovely peaceful haven. Just what you need. Are there good schools for the kids? Because you could stay there forever….
- April 19, 2011 at 2:24 pm
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Sounds wonderful indeed. The perfect place to take some time.
- April 19, 2011 at 2:13 pm
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Your soul is sighing, I'll bet. Be at peace, Lori. x
- April 19, 2011 at 1:48 pm
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It sounds healing. I am glad you are where you are now. xx
- April 19, 2011 at 1:30 pm
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I find often in times of high stress that all life really needs is to be simplified. Why do we have to be such complex creatures these days? Why compete and make things harder on ourselves.
Where you are sounds BEAUTIFUL. A place i need to be, away from everything. - April 19, 2011 at 1:19 pm
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Sounds like an awesome place to be xx
- April 19, 2011 at 1:11 pm
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Awesome. Sounds lovely. Such a shame the other place turned so poisonous. But so great a new place was found to nurture you and your sweet family. hugs!
- April 19, 2011 at 12:55 pm
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So good to hear.
- April 19, 2011 at 12:47 pm
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To find a place that cushions you, where you feel you can heal, is rare and wonderful.
- April 19, 2011 at 12:45 pm
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Sounds like a lovely little spot. I am so glad you are healing and finding the time to relax.
- April 19, 2011 at 12:16 pm
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I am so happy to hear this:)
- April 19, 2011 at 12:09 pm
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Wonderful. Having the time to just be x
- April 19, 2011 at 10:06 pm
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I'm so glad you got yourself out of that toxic environment. I, too, have been seriously considering the possibility of creating a simpler life for myself in the form of a move to PEI (that's a little island on the east coast of Canada). It's nice to just go somewhere where you can just be, where people are kind and friendly, where they understand the importance of just stopping to smell the flowers. Enjoy, Lori, enjoy.
- April 19, 2011 at 8:49 pm
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If being there helps you along the road Lori, then its all i want for you, peace… x o x
- April 19, 2011 at 8:10 pm
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Hate to say I told you so…. Now I will go slap myself for you xxxxxxx
- April 19, 2011 at 8:03 pm
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♥
- April 19, 2011 at 7:49 pm
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That sounds like a life anyone could crave…I crave. Happy to hear light and sunshine in your words.
Tx - April 19, 2011 at 7:04 pm
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I'm hearin' ya.
- April 19, 2011 at 1:27 pm
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That's so wonderful, Lori. I'm so happy for you and your kids that you are able to find some rest and recoup time in the country. It is so soothing and once you get used to it you'll probably never want to leave. At least, that's what's happened to me.
Previous post: The Grief of a Child.
Next post: Disturbia.
{ 54 comments… read them below or add one }
Oh Lori. You simply take my breath away with your strength and character.
Lori, I have read your every post since the After. And many in the Before. Once again I sit here with tears rolling down for you. For that unimaginable pain you are feeling.
I wish beyond anything possible there was a way to ease your pain and bring Tony back to you all.
I am glad though that you keep on writing. This is a great way for you to heal.
Huge love and hugs for you.
It gets better. I promise it gets better…eventually. At some point your ears stop ringing. The number of minutes you've gone without crying or raging grows until you reach an hour. In a shift imperceptible to anyone else, you pass a jagged edged corner to a softer rounder place. It happens. And it takes years.
Be as gentle to yourself as you would to anyone else. The wee ones will recover. You will recover. And one day you'll make your peace with the way things have happened.
Please know that your words here have been so moving. Thank you for being willing to share.
I don't know what to say Lori, other than that like the others here, I'm still listening.
[[hugs]]
http://www.momentsofwhimsy.com
Ah Lori, so much trauma, so undeserved. I always struggle to find words after reading your posts, but I feel like I need to comment, just to let you know that I'm reading, that I'm feeling for you.
The rain is falling gently here – this continual, soft rain that's been falling for the last three days. I feel like the sky is crying – for you and Chop and the Bump.
I have nothing but love. Love love love xxx
Lori, I…I just have nothing to say, I can't se the screen too well for tears. Still here honey, still thinking of you every day.
Love Sophie xxx
I love what Michael said about each of us taking a little piece of the burden… I hope that sometimes at least you can feel us all standing with you, taking on some of the pain and the tears and that the weight of this nightmare is just a little bit lighter, even for a moment…
Pix
It's so unfair:( Much love to all of you ((HUG))
thinking of you and your family, hope a little bit of peace comes soon x
Always thinking of you, hon. xxx
I'm so sorry. I know I can't really understand what this was like, is like. So all I can say is I'm sorry.
Each iteration of your heart breaking, unimaginable hellish story, contains more, a detail here, and emotion there.
Perhaps with each day, with each footstep, you're letting more in and processing it.
I hope it helps. Writing it, sharing it.
Here….reading…caring and crying at your powerful, hauntingly beautiful writing.
xxx
Oh babe. Holding you in my heart with so much love. Be gentle with yourself. xx
No, this wasn't fun. But if you have to say it, say it. There are hundreds of us. Maybe thousands. We'll each take a little piece of the burden.
oh the horror. unbearable. truly awful.
I hope that writing about it, eases it a little. each time you face it (oh so painfully and bravely) I hope it eases the horror just a little. keep writing, keep talking, we can take it. give some of the horror to us, to your friends, your therapist, your family. hang in there. you're amazing.
those memories must be unbearable. I am so sorry.
Sending you some SawHole love.
Mental illness is a mutha fucker.
xx
Hon, you are awesome, to be writing and doing what you are doing. I have only been reading since After and so I don't really know of Purple stuff. My heart aches for you every time I read this blog.
Oh and I didn't comment after your vlog but I watched it, and I think I said the same when I saw another one you had, but you have fucking cool eyes!!! So full of life and feeling. Not that that means much or anything right now, but you are beautiful and that shines out, even now, in this After
Sending love Lori. Lots and lots of love.
I'm glad you're able to keep talking this through. As many times as you want or need, since every time is different. The common thread is the same, but each time you speak there are little things that emerge that haven't come forward before. You need this, it's cleansing. keep doing it. We're all here to listen and hug.
No words, just hugs.
Oh Lori. THere it is again, total heartbreak. it is still so raw, so fresh for you. A beautiful post. Devastating, but beautiful.
M2Mx
I just want to thank you for your continued blogging through this horrible trauma. I thank you because it made me have an open and honest conversation with my husband about depression. We have both suffered from depression throughout the many years we have been together.
Thank you.
What a horrible way to have your innocence stripped from you! I've been following since The After, just quietly checking up on you every day and praying hard for you and your little ones. I hope life in Paradise is treating you all well, and I hope you'll continue to heal. HUG!!!!
Love you chook xxx
Another chapter. I hope with each new writing the imagery is moving from your flashbacks to sitting here. Baby steps to lessening pain. I hope so. Love as always xxxx
I found your blog just days before. I have read and cried and wished I knew you in the real world so I could hug you, let you cry, shout or scream as needed but more importantly just let you be as you needed to be.
You seem to be coping as you should, good, bad and everything in between. I send you hugs, but so wish it could be more xoxo
Fuck. I think you are amazing. For living through such raw pain and for being able to share it and heal.
The way you described the Purple Lori ghost really puts things into unfathomable perspective.
I'm so very sorry. Your story is equal parts heartbreak and terror. I can't even begin to imagine. But thank you so much for sharing, as I know it helps.
My own story of heartbreak and terror is very different to yours, but there were flashes in your story that sucked me right back to my own nightmare (the day I saw my first born daughter dead on an ultrasound machine at 40 weeks 4 days, after a perfectly healthy pregnancy). I remember being taken to "that room" and having to deal with my own tribe of insensitive doctors who made the unthinkable situation so much worse.
I'm just so sorry. So very, very sorry.
And thank you again.
xo
I am so sorry for your grief. There aren't any words that I can share that would take any pain from you. But please know that if I could, I would.
I'm so sorry.
Sending love.
So heartbreaking… Only hope that this powerful writing is helping to get it out of your mind and off your chest. Thinking of you always x
Too sad. Just too sad. I'm so sorry. xxx
Lori Lori Lori – I have been following since BEFORE and am yet to comment. Nothing I can say could possibly be of any help…
but I have just read your last two posts and want to say keep purging it all out. You are healing. Be safe x
per lucy
I'm here. I know it hurts. The pain keeps coming back. How could this have happened? How could this have happened to ME? Even now the pain keeps coming back. Will it always follow me no matter where I go?
Every time you tell the story I weep. I can't even imagine how it must be to live through it. But you did Lori, you ARE living. And coping, and surviving and doing SO BLOODY AMAZINGLY WELL. I know it probably doesn't feel that way to you just now, but please know that we all know it, and are all still here – cheering you on, weeping with you, weeping for you. xxx
I'm so touched but understand the need to replay this and write about this again and again. You'll never forget, seared as it is forever in your brain, but hopefully time will make it less raw.
Sometimes comments from us people who care don't seem to be needed…I apologize for stating the obvious (if that is the case). I know when I blog about painful moments, I really don't give a shit if anyone wants to comment. It's the mere fact of putting into words that helps in some way…
More big hugs Lori xx
Let it out, we are listening. Love and peace to you.
Hugs. I know it isn't really anything at all, but there's nothing more I can offer.
I don't how you could not lose part of yourself, witnessing, experiencing, losing what you have. I wish I had words that would help, that would take away those haunting images even for a little while. Hugs coming from me too. xx
Just hugs Lori. It's all I've got. XX
I can't even begin to imagine what that day was like. And I'm also sending continual hugs your way. We're still all here for you, 100% xxx
I feel totally useless, no matter what I try to type here it feels empty and hollow. Trying to imagine how horrific it would have been to witness and then replay it over and over. I sincerely hope that you are able to find the right people to help you work through this awful, awful… shit. I can't even call it a nightmare, it sounds so contrite.
There are no words. I cannot imagine the horror and agony you must have gone through – must be going through. I wish I had something useful to say, but I don't. However, I just wanted you to know that I had read this, and that I care (even though I'm a stranger who only found your blog today).
I know it's worth fuck all, but still: I'm sending lots of gentle, virtual hugs your way.
My comment seems to have gotten lost in the works, so just sending hugs.
Hi Loz
Had to read this in 3 stages. And trying to think of something comforting to say.
But I cannot think of anything.
xxxx
Here. Always here. xx
Its like watching waves crash on the shore, there is calm peaceful water that reminds me of the days when you seem to be doing okay, putting one foot in front of the other but we cant see the force that is underneath the surface constantly pulling you, then you roll back in and crash, throw yourself against the rocks again, and again.
I feel you are so hard on yourself sometimes..
There are many things that make up the person who you are, we are lamenting our purple house lori, you seem to know she is gone, I feel as if i've lost her too…
The lori that you are now I just feel like i want to bathe you in warmth and sunlight, this lori all i want for her is peace…
Your a wonderful person Lori, you are doing the best you can with the worst of situations. Keep going you'll make it through, I believe it in my heart.
Love to you and the babes, girlfriend x
I don't know where anyone ever finds the strength to keep going after something like this happens to them.
I don't know how your heart can keep beating with so much pain.
I know you keep saying you're not brave, that you have no choice and you're only doing what you have to, but for you to pick yourself up after this, and be building a new life for you and the kids — girl, you have balls of steel.
With all my heart I hope the horror of these memories fades with time.
Oh Lori hugs to you and your beautiful babes. Reading this has me in tears as all of reading it can picture it happening, feel the terror of those moments. It is something you see in movies, it should never happen in real life, but sadly it does. But you know what, I truly believe, that anyone reading this that has ever considered suicide as an option for them, having read your story, hopefully, will think twice. The pain that you have gone through is evident and I have found this last post in particular is so real, the fear you felt comes through and smacks you in the face. If this doesn't show people the true face of suicide and the impact it has on families nothing ever will!