We’re all okay

In light of this event, I kinda felt compelled to post something here to let everyone know in blogland that I am okay and everyone I know, including Glen is fine.

My building is a couple of blocks away, but still close enough to send shivers down your spine.

It’s a pretty scary situation and most of the buildings in the CBD are in lockdown. The man responsible for this crime would be well and truly out of the city, I would expect. Having said that, I am still in two minds about going outside to do some shopping.

Hopefully they catch him. One is already dead. May he rest in peace for trying to assist someone else who needed him. You don’t see that sort of selfless act often in a city.

Heaven sent freedom prescribed

I used to blog so frequently. I think I had a lot more to say. Or, I had more time to say it. Or maybe more motivation to write it. I don’t know. These days, I just lack the interest in this blog that I once had. I mostly blame external factors, but there’s a large part of me that I can’t change right now. The part of me that dictates my moods right now.

I’ve been having a lot of trouble with my neck and migraines recently. The last few weeks, maybe months, I’ve been on a rollercoaster of migraines and general pain. It got to the point where I lost any hope to live a day without one. When you have a migraine for more than a day or two, you start to lose the hope that yes, it will go away. No matter how many drugs and natural remedies like wheat pillows and essential oils you throw at it, it never goes away. It’s always there bubbling under the surface. It’s easy to understand why you lose hope, why you just exist from one day to the next. Existence is not really living and over time, you start to feel that sleep trumps existence any day.

So, I slept. I’d get up for work, with the migraine firmly ensconced in my head and neck, drag myself to work, with limited productivity until I dragged myself home, ate dinner, was crabby for a few hours before I put everyone out of my misery and went to bed. I was so miserable. I stop being interested in pretty much anything I cared about before.

It finally got to the point where I realised that I was suffering needlessly and I made an appointment with my doctor. With migraines, you sometimes act without sense and you become paranoid. It’s part of the condition which I just learned recently. I had put the doctor’s appointment off because in my head, I had made the argument that my doctor would give me a hard time and wouldn’t prescribe the things I needed to get rid of the migraines. But I had to give it a try and see what happened.

The doctor took one look at me and asked two simple questions: “Do you have a migraine right now?” Yes. “How long have you had it for?” Over 10 days, on and off.

I walked out of the surgery with some hope. I have been prescribed a migraine preventative called Sandomigran and given a script for mersyndol forte in the event that they return.

That was last Friday. I have been without a migraine for about 10 days. Ironically, my last migraine was the afternoon of the first tablet. It was a really bad migraine which forced me to bed with two mersyndol fortes at 8pm. It was my last hurrah, as I’ve not had a migraine since. I’ve had auras and all sorts of other symptoms, but no migraine pain, as such. It’s so foreign to me.

The downside to the medication that I can see so far is it increases yours appetite and for some reason, I am finding it hard to wake up properly in the mornings and when I do sleep in, I feel really groggy and achy. It’s all very much trial and error right now, so I’ve got some options still. But to go this long without a migraine feels very surreal to me.

The culmination of no migraines has also been the delivery of our new chiropractic bed which has been heaven sent. I dont think I’ve slept this well in about six years, maybe more. It’s just weird!

So, as I’ve sorted out this problem, other problems can be focussed on and I guess that’s where I am at right now.

The painting at our house continues to occur. The June long weekend really proved productive, but Glen and I nearly killed ourselves painting the master bedroom. Two windows and an unreachable (in parts) wardrobe have proven difficult. However, it’s basically done.

Painting left to do:

• Bathroom, toilet, dining room/kitchen and laundry - all one colour
• computer room, which scares me beyond belief due to the amount of shit Glen continues to hoard in there
• Lounge room repaint - the original paint we rushed to get done on the weekend of settlement has never agreed with me and we’ll be painting over the offending walls - except for the lovely feature wall which stays

Then we’re done. It’s something I can’t quite believe, but it’s almost over if you look at it like that.  At some point, I’ll try to post before and after shots, but I might wait another week because I just lack the motivation and interest. See, this is where I am at - general lack of interest.

Stay tuned.

Yo, keepin’ it real…

I’ve been with Glen for about six years. That’s a fairly long time. That’s long enough to really know that person and to have routine, to exist together. There’s really no surprises at this point of the relationship, so you feel comfortable and relaxed.

This should be the case for inlaws and inherited relatives. Alas, it is not. They don’t have a clue who I really am and they don’t know my tastes in things. This results in birthday and Christmases being very disappointing and demoralising.

I’m continually starring in a recuring role on Pleasantville. We all know the movie. It’s set in picture-perfect-nobody-has-any-real-problems land. We’re all pleasant and polite. No one has a mean thing to say about the other and we put on a persona when in the presence of such company.

This is hard for me. I consider myself to be a very real person. To say it like it is. I wasn’t blessed with the gene of subtly. I don’t know what that word means. I grew up in a very relaxed family which consisted of me and my mother. The lines of parent and child were blurred to become friends and accomplices in life. It was how it had to be. The tap needed fixing, we were both there fixing it. Dinner had to be made, we were both there peeling the potatoes and cleaning up. Ironing and washing had to be done, we both endured it.

More to the point, if there were issues, she told me off and I had my say (to a small point). We sorted it out. We kept it real.

Suddenly, I am thrust into another world where such relationships were never formed. Where affection towards each other wasn’t as paramount as it was in my family. That is not to say it wasn’t there, because I am sure it was. But the degree to which you say I love you etc is not as present. In this new world, people do not say what they think, they keep it to themselves. If you have an opinion that others do not concur with and the situation presses enough buttons, you are told to shut up - like a small child that you were 20 years ago.

I don’t want to disparage this family, because for all the things I whinge about, the produced the man I am spending the rest of my life with. The man who has so much love to give, there is never enough time to receive it. He is perfect, despite the issues that surround us today.

Having said that, it has been refreshing for my partner and his sister to get an ‘outsider’s’ take on the situation. To give an objective appraisal of the situation. To say that for others, this is not a normal family dynamic. People do talk back, they do express discontent and annoyance to each other and the lines of parent/child become blurred as the child becomes an adult and the parent just becomes another adult. Children at the age of almost 40 are not told to ‘do be quiet’ as they were when they were 10. They aren’t silenced because the parent has ordered it. The dynamics are supposed to changed. We are allowed to question our parents. It’s ok.

So, this family dynamic has become a bit of an issue for me and for my partner and his sister. It’s been a stressful week and I feel as if there is great expectations placed on me to sort it out, to bite the bullet.

Life is so much simpler when you pretend in your everyday life that no one but you and your partner exist. It is very selfish, but less complicated.

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The meeting of two minds…

No, this isn’t an indication that i am back for good, back to writing great long memoirs, like I used to.

It’s just a notice to say that my blogger account and wordpress account have officially been merged.

Also, there’s a link on the side that says Old rants. That’s pre-blogger when I was slumming it with Pitas. Just in case you cared.

I’ve been blogging since 1 April 2001.

No, that isn’t a joke, although sometimes this blog has been known to degenerate that low.

Stay tuned. I might eventually write something. One of these days. Maybe.

I know I am missed. I appreciate that. Really, I do.

I just need you to be patient. Just in a writing funk. There’s a lot on my mind. And I will reveal all eventually. It’s nothing huge. Just need some more time.

Love you all.

Where in the world is Samantha?

I know that an update to this page is long overdue, but to be honest, I’ve spent more time on the potty, than I have with my laptop or anywhere else. I have the dreaded gastro and I have been a slave to the porcelain god since Friday night. Saw the doctor on Monday and was basically told to weather it, drink plenty of water, eat bland foods and purchase Imodium. I have done all of these things. However, I spend all night up and down to the toilet and completely wiped out during the day, but my relationship with the toilet is non-existent.

Anyway, I’m working hard on putting together an entry about our holidays etc. So, bear with me. I’m suffering here and my brain is addled. Although, last night was a delight because I actually awoke this morning and realised that I had slept through the night without keeping an appointment with the toilet bowl. Yay for me! The downside is I had a text message from my mother this morning (she had arrived in Sydney and awaiting the last part of her journey) to tell me she had gastro. I felt terrible. Being on a train is no fun as it is, and worse when you have gastro. She is currently waiting at the front door of her house for the people who have been feeding her animals, to turn up with the key! Must be hellish!

Anyway, stay tuned…

What did people expect?

This shits me, trust me.

But what did the Australia expect?

There’s a phrase that I’ve known for a long time and some of us have suffered - those of us who’ve lived in a small-minded country town - Small mindedness breeds ‘isms’.

In this case, racism.

Country folk just don’t get exposed to the outside world unless they leave their cosy little worlds and travel to the big cities like Sydney or Melbourne. They just don’t get it.  Hell, my inlaws came from a city and moved to a small country town (though, the word town is rather exaggerated!) and they carry on about the local “Indian” doctor as “He’s quite good, even though he’s Indian!”

Let’s face it - the country is a little world of its own, but as James Bond said, “This World is Not Enough”. Cliche and tacky, probably, true - yes. Di and I grew up with this small town mentality, and it was probably one of the greatest reasons we decided to leave. Since then, I think we’ve both become better people for it, more open minded and relaxed about other cultures. Often, I am accused (not sure of Di) of being too ‘city-minded’, not having any community spirit. But what’s the alternative?

At least I accept people as they come. But then, I was always like that. Who taught me that? My mother and my friends.

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