Well it’s only really a puppy at this stage, but with the proper care and nourishment this little fella has the potential to cause a crash.

What the hell am I talking about?

The truth! The truth about me!

Having recently become reconnected with the blogging world after a long spell of recovery from health issues, I found myself looking back over my blogs, reading this and that, and feeling overwhelmingly like I have misrepresented myself.

I was on very strong pain killing drugs the whole time I was blogging, (right up until my post 2 days ago), every single post was written by a version of myself, who was made different by these drugs.

This was confirmed by 7 a couple of months after stopping the drugs. She said to me. “How about you go back on the drugs? You were so much happier, and a much better mother!”

She’s right you know.

Coursing through my veins was a product that couldn’t help but make me feel good. (I’m still astonished that I haven’t found an excuse to still be on them, considering how good they made me feel, and how they changed me.) They made me dote on the children, change my lifestyle to incorporate a healthy eating plan, head out into the world with an “I can beat anything” attitude, and they helped me give up smoking! (For a while…..)

I’m not positive it was just the drugs either. The feelings of helplessness and pain were new to me, and took me to a place I can barely recognize now. I was dependent on Fitty and the kids, and my friends and family, every day to be kind to me, to show compassion and to help me get through each operation. Each recovery period. Every step back into work.

And they were kind to me, they were amazing, and because of them, so was I!

Enough about the drugs! I expect by now you’re waiting on some kind of “Mommie Dearest” confession?

Not so. I’m not a bad person at all, but my strength and positive attitude at the time of writing former posts? Mostly came out of a pharmacy packet…..

People who know me well will scoff at this. I’ve always been strong. I’ve always coped better than most with life’s dramas and heartbreaks. ALWAYS.

Maybe that’s true. Of course it is. I am a strong woman. I stand up for my beliefs. I have faith in “God”, but not the secular God we have rammed down our throats from an early age. My “God” is in me. I listen to the voice inside me.


I swear. I have bad thoughts about people, and I have very little confidence in my abilities beyond staying true to the things I believe in.I am unhappy in my skin right now. I am smoking again. Twice in the last 20 months or so my weight has rapidly gone up and down 15kgs. Two years ago I attended counseling because I broke. I am brutally honest, and sometimes don’t stop to think of the way people may interpret my honesty. I am a judgmental bitch. Woe betide you if I ever see you wearing slutty clothes, or behaving promiscuously. (I married the man who should have been my first one night stand – at the age of 31! Probably why I’m divorced now, right?)

I talk too much. I worry and stress over things that might happen. I’m picky and sometimes over-criticize.

On the pro side? I have three sons who bring me joy and love and laughter. I am step-mother to 5 children whom I love unconditionally and feel a huge sense of responsibility for. I am truthful and loyal. The few friendships I have left are full of love and support. I enjoy some of the aspects of my work. I am content to let things happen in their own time, even tho I worry about them constantly. (Is that contradictory?) I’m more interested in happiness than money. I’m passionate about people and their rights.

So having to admit to myself that I might be a little depressed now?

Not easy. I’ve always been the “happy” one in my group. Even when the chips are down. I always find a way to laugh my way through.

I cope. Sometimes beautifully, and sometimes just scraping by. What exactly is it that makes it harder to cope sometimes?

I harken back to my first experience of counseling. Having been unable to eat, sleep or do anything but cry in the weeks following my (long overdue) resignation from a 10 year job, it became clear to me that I needed help. Off I went to the doctor who listened intently to me before saying he thought I was suffering from depression.

My immediate response was denial. Because I could plainly see that what I was going through was a direct result of my resignation from work, I was unable to make the connection that I was depressed. I was simply reacting wasn’t I? Wasn’t I? Please tell me that’s all it is??

Luckily I decided that counselling was the way forward.

I was extremely shocked to find that not only did I find the counselor friendly and compassionate, but that I found her insight incredible.

She explained to me that my coping mechanism was broken. After a couple of sessions I was able to see exactly why I was there. After all those years of taking on board yet another drama, broken relationship, conflict, heartbreak, family woes and troubles etc I finally had reached my limit.

She put it like this.

“Imagine you are walking along. Each problem is a stick that you pick up and put on your back. You have picked up too many sticks, and your back is broken!”

It was a pivotal moment for me. All of a sudden I began to see how serious some of the problems were that I had “picked up” and carried. Oh god my sticks were so many and so varied!

She asked me to go home and write a time-line of events that I felt I had never properly dealt with. These included, or seemed to start with my parents divorce in the early 80’s, and so that’s where I began. By the time I got to 1991, (where I left a relationship in which I suffered both physical and emotional abuse), I was overwhelmed with emotion and unable to continue. There was SO MUCH stuff! I felt my back breaking all over again.

I continued with the sessions, but admitted to the counselor that I simply couldn’t even begin to process some of the events on my timeline and so we concentrated on the issues immediately prior to my breakdown, and after a couple of months I truly felt like I was ready to cope again!

And I have been I guess. The whole health crisis last year was a complete cycle of uselessness, given that the true cause of my problem was never detected, and could easily have been headed off by a more thorough attitude from my health proffessionals, but hey! Nobody’s perfect?

I’ve been reasonably happy since then. Or have I?

I was innocently reaching for the phone the other day to call in at work and check what exact date and time I was returning to work, when all of a sudden I felt my chest constricting and my palms began to sweat. “Okay what the fuuuuuck?” (See! Told you I swear!)

I began to breathe deeply but felt as though I wasn’t breathing at all! Not an entirely new experience for me, but why now? Wasn’t I normal now?

Since returning from a vacation and having an extra week at home before going back to work, I had been listless and exhausted. But so was Fitty. We really had put every ounce of energy into our holiday with the kids. Never once spending any time relaxing, but heading out for excitement every moment of the day. We were drained. But it was something more for me.

I was really worried about being able to sleep, as when I become exhausted or over-do things I find I really can’t relax at all at bed time and spend most of the night tossing and turning until finally falling  asleep around dawn.

I’ve done little but sleep since I got home. Surprised at myself when I fall asleep on the lounge watching TV, or nodding off during you-tube extravaganza’s. (My latest obsession is to watch all kinds of morbid things! More on that later….)

Shit, I’m going to have to Part II this post, as I can’t possibly say everything I want to say in one post. It’s rude to expect your attention for so long.

Actually, I can’t even promise that I will finish it……. Today I feel like I really need to say these things. Tomorrow, who knows?