"Toto.... I don't think we're in Kansas anymore"

Well, Dorothy said it first when she went over the rainbow.

I've gone over ... well, something equally as dominated by colour and have found myself saying "Whoa... this shit is serious."

I am currently in the middle of so far 4+ hour long attack of vertigo - I'm managing to ignore the nausea and am learning to manage it by not making any sudden movements of my eyes or head. After this post, Mr Putie is going away for the night as well, as I really shouldn't be sitting here.

Last Monday I had the first bout of dizziness. I felt like I'd drunk only a bottle of wine last Monday and it didn't wear off (that slightly drunk, struggling to maintain balance when turning on heel, etc.) until Tuesday night. Today, though, I was sitting here stationary, replying to someone and BAM! The effect was more immediate and the volume was more like three bottles of wine. Luckily the LGBB had been in bed for the past half hour so was destined to remain there for at least another two hours. I hastily walked to the front door, locked it, grabbed the phone and dove to the safety of bed and a prostrate position. I discovered, once there, that I could not even close my eyes, let alone shift my gaze at all, or else my brain just started to spin and I'd reel off and feel like I was going to chuck from here to Sunday.

After about an hour, I could at least brave going to the toilet. Which I did. And it was all uneventful. On the way back to bed I made a dash and grab for my laptop, making it back to bed just as a severe wave of nausea hit me. I Googled then. I Googled Menieres Disease. Don't know why, but I did. I know Jen has it. And boy, did/do I feel like one big hypochondriac/copycat all rolled in to one, confessing to her as I did on the phone (she called me during this fiasco I was having) this afternoon that I suspect I have many of the telltale symptoms and uh, what the hell do I do about it and will it go away, ever.

I discovered during my brief search that it can come on after a virus (tick, just had one of those) usually in adults in their 30's (tick), is accompanied by a lengthy period of tinnitis or ringing in the ears (tick and triple quadruple tick, I have always meant to get that checked out, sometimes I feel deaf for the ringing... ooops I am naughty for not following that up several years ago) and starts off with bouts of, for the money shot: Vertigo.

Okay, so this is all self-diagnosed so far. I have no other explanation for these episodes. I've only had two, I'm still in the second one and I hope it's the last. This is actually probably all a once (okay, twice) off. It may very well be something inexplicable or easily explained but that I just will never know the answer to.

Now to make it interesting: this is parallel to the steepest, most mind-bending learning curve I've encountered so far on my journey through the Colour Ray healing procedures/classes. It seems, in hindsight, I've been creating these concentric circles, ever widening my experiences with the colours and expanding my awareness. I'm opening up more and more into my psychic ability - something that you can't learn, as such, but that you can awaken, grow into, accept, discover, hone and use respectfully and responsibly.

I honestly thought my mind was splitting on the weekend. I was pushed to the absolute brink of my own sanity. And still, perhaps maniacally (hey, maybe I'm already blissfully nutty and just refuse to admit it), I refuse to let the bone go. I have the choice, I do not have to do this healing work on myself.... But then, I figure, to stop now is to not know how the story unfolds. Kind of like, if you're really hooked on Harry Potter, read the first 3 books and, even realising there are more in the series, you stop short right there, forever wondering how Harry's path ends. I can't do that. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that whenever I am deeply engrossed in a book, I actually have to fight the urge to read the last sentence on the final page. That's how invested I become.

Part of what I am now discovering about myself is that, hell yeah, there IS palpable, noticeable, very real and present energy in a room or a place. I don't mean to sound like one of those whack psychics on the Sci Fi channel, the ones who go on telly and then serve to perpetuate the stereotype that these people are egotistical, sensationalist, inflammatory. No, no, no. So much of the reason why I still balk at sharing, even here on my little itty bity blog, is that I do NOT want to come across as self-serving, or delusory either. But I figure by now, meh, if I'm mad crazy banshee-woman, at least I'll have been honest in sharing my truth and what I know.

This post is now too long and has rambled so far past the subject I was going to raise - that of incest and how I happened to be involved in raising some of the gunk and dark energy - that i think it calls for its very own post. Which I will do, another day.

Stay tuned.

Gracious

If you don't already know whether there's a clinic in your area, or haven't given it a go because "they're only students", I thoroughly recommend you avail yourself of any student massage clinic/s in your area.

Oh my God, where have they been all my life, these $15 p/hour havens each week?

Steve bit the bullet and tried them first. We figured, hey, at $15 for the hour it wouldn't matter if they just ... moved your back round a bit. Hell, I'd pay someone $15 to just put their hands flat on my back in various places and not apply pressure some days. You know that feeling? When you just want your back touched? For me, it eases tension just that little bit. And a tiny amount of manipulation (or a lot) is just icing on the cake.

So I started going too. And since April, we've both been enjoying these little respites. Now, one of the main benefits of student massages that I can see is that they are all trying their upmost to test out all their newly learned techniques. Ahhhh, that's my pretty, impresssss meeeeeeee. Sweet relief.

Not so surprisingly, every single solitary massage has been different, felt absolutely fantastic and I've never come away disappointed. Even the girl who was so nervous that her dear hands shook so much that my bottom lip almost quivered from her shaking was exceptional. I found the vibration of her hands and arms to be most transcendental.

Tonight, though, I got to thinking. As I lay there undertaking (doesn't it sound so resigned... "if I must help them reach their accreditation, I must"....) a relaxation massage *drooooool* I felt that sudden familiar urge. And don't any of you go telling me you've never had it when you're being massaged because I won't believe it's never happened to you. I speak of the sensation of air making its way through various passages, meandering through all the nooks and crannies, making its way to tapping on that final door.

The puff. The fluff. The fart.

It was lurking in the background and I kept it at bay for the first half of the massage. Every now and then, my body would tense, jerked out of its euphorically relaxed state to grip my butt cheeks shut. Sorry, guys. But it did. You KNOW the moment I speak of. Stop it... I know you do!

And then, the unthinkable happened. She let Fluffy of the chain. The masseuse! I think she thought I was asleep. And the slip was almost imperceptible. Pffffrrrrrrrrrt. A little, polite parp. Like the car horn of a god-fearing elderly lady who wants to respectfully advise you you're veering into her lane. "Excuuuuuuse meeeee, deary."

If I wasn't so relaxed, I would have let out a guffaw. But I didn't. I was so chilled that all I did was smile warmly. Hey, what would it hurt. She thought I was asleep, she was at my feet, I wasn't anywhere near the firing range.

It was all good.

How gracious am I?

Not all is always as it seems

The further I head into this work and face my different realities, the more horribly alone I feel.

The more I isolate and alienate myself.

The less connected I appear.

It frightens me and I want to stop. But to stop would also be to remain part-way in to reaching what I am certain are happier, more soul full and fulfilling times.

I've been at my most productive (and business-wise, profitable) this week for the first time in a long time. And I am tired and mentally, emotionally exhausted this weekend. The weeks on end of being very ill and caring for a sick little girl, whilst maintaining work and juggling a relationship, have all caught up with me and I wish this week I was a castaway on my own desert island. For about 30 seconds, I wish for that. Then decide that, fuck no, I'd still be stuck with me and cripes, I wouldn't last the week. I would want to get away from me so fast it's not funny.

And that's not funny. At the moment, that is what I have to look at.

At the moment, my life feels a tad like "Who's On First" and I don't like it. It all just seems to go round and round and round. My relationships to the people I love, my ability to manage and cope, how I am expressing myself at the moment... it is all being affected, especially the further I head in to my etheric work. It has to be surfaced, though, to be "fixed". I bring with me my baggage, my upbringing, my memories and sights from way back when. I fight the urge to unleash my full rage. My learned rage, which both my parents had and showed. Is this me? No. I am not a rage-filled person. I am not a hate-filled person. But I have come to a crossroads in my healing. A very lonely crossroads. I strike first and ask later, lately. It's built to a very new, very confronting crescendo. And this is all with counselling and stellar support.

I'm on the verge of a breakthrough to further understanding. I know that. I just have to stay convinced and faithful so that I can have the courage to unravel it in order to heal my package of woundedness more.

I hate being in times like these. It just feels so all-consuming and there's nobody safe enough to fall back on/into.

My attention span

These days, it's only about as long as the little person's with whom my days are occupied.

And it means I never accomplish the completion of anything because EVERYTHING constantly seems only half done.

What joy.

Is any of this familiar to anyone?

I'll say it again. THEY ARE HILARIOUS. To me anyway.

Australian Raven

You can find more Mandalas / Animal Totems in my Labels and Links (but give me time if there's nothing there just yet, I'm working on it!)

I have begun to look on Earth's creatures - even the ones that are scary to me or annoying or that I've perhaps been guilty of treating as lesser than me/mankind - in a totally different, respectful light.

In general, I have heard people repel certain animals and insects so much sometimes and I now wonder... what is it about that animal's presence in an individual's life that they so vehemently hate it? Call it "evil-looking", or a pest, or perhaps want to kill it.. just 'cos?

One such notably derided animal is the Australian Raven (the most common found here in Victoria is the one with the ruffled feathers at the throat - it 'caws' like the crow but also has that gutteral throat thing going on, if you know the one I'm talking about it'll be familiar to you). So it is interesting to note the teachings of this totem. What is it about this learning that repels individuals? What do you think about ravens?

As with all Mandalas posted on my blog, this Mandala is shared here with the blessing of Peace Space.

Australian Raven

Raven is the largest member of the crow family. This big black bird has deep purplish-blue feathers that glisten in the sunlight with a green metallic sheen, and long throat feathers that are consicuous when Raven calls. Raven's flight consists of slow, deliberate wing beats and its strong limbs allow it a determined walk on the ground.
Ravens benefit from a range of environmental circumstances and, being monivorous, they thrive on food left by humans and other birds as well as carrion and road kill. Farmers often blame these birds for killing sheep and lambs, but this is not necessarily true. Raven will take only lambs that are already dead or those already so weakened by starvation or mismothering that they are nearly dead. In summer months, Ravens rely on insects - grasshoppers and other agricultural pests, grain-grubs and ground-grubs. Displaying precise timing, Ravens feeding from road kills can get out of the way of oncoming traffic without appearing to be frightened of imminent danger, and will return to feeding once the traffic has passed.
Preferring open territory to forested regions, Ravens are nonetheless adaptable and watchful in their environment whether these be open spaces or urban areas. They use a sentinel system to guard their ground and often create a ruckus when intruders approach. Humans often find their cawing annoying. Always in each other's company, a Raven pair will bond for life and show little mating ritual display, except the occasional chasing of each other. Once fledged, young Ravens spend 3-4 months in the parents' territory before cutting family ties and becoming part of passing nomadic flocks. A young Raven will not breed for another three years. The mortality rate among Ravens is high in teh first year of life so the Ravens we do see have clearly weathered life's knocks. Ravens enjoy life. They demonstrate the ability to find what they need for survivial and take every opportunity to thrive. When Ravens catch their reflection in a window or shiny object, they peck at their reflection as if in opposition to what they see.

The wisdom of Raven comes from its strength to walk its life, thriving rather than merely surviving. Raven is about honouring the hurts and difficulties of the past without being trapped in any victim-consciousness of that past. Raven's wisdom is about allowing death to come to old weaknesses and inabilities, and about breaking the ties of family patterns that restrict you on your path of growth. Raven shows you how to stand strong and confident in yourself and confirm your right place of being. Raven lives in the Now and trusts that the universe will provide what is needed.

You too will receive what you need when you trust in yourself and not in your fears. Be like Raven when it hops or flies out of the way on the highway in the face of oncoming traffic. Step aside and let your fears pass. Return to your aims and goals in life without letting your spirit be dampened. Raven uses intelligence and asks you to do the same, by keeping an open mind and avoiding crowding thoughts. Raven's black colour represents all that can be brought into new life. All new life emerges from darkness and Raven reminds you of teh creativeness and magic within yourself that let nurturing new life into your being. Meditate with Raven and speak your own truth when you fear others may not appreciate your position. Let your confidence and determination have their voice heard and remember to call upon the assistance of others when you feel vulnerable in the face of difficult situations.

When you hear Raven's cawing, it could be time for you to check how you sound when you communicate with others. Do you speak in unison and harmony with others or do you boast to cover your perceived inabilities or insecurities? Perhaps you need to balance the male and female energies within you and find good company with yourself rather than comepting with others and tending to override them. Just as Raven pecks at its reflection in the glass window, look at your own reflection and make any changes needed to bring new growth to your own individuality. Expand your horizons so that you can experience what you need to thrive. Understand how weakness affects those who, instead of finding their own true indiviual path, only follow. Determine to find your own way. Raven helps you to stand out in the crowd so that your own true colours can shine through.

Magic Creativity Determination Thriving Fears Reflection
18. Diamond Doors, Bright Indigo

Hasn't this just got "must-see" written all over it

Damn these widescreen trailers.... I can't embed it here, it screws up my layout. Here's the link if you're so inclined (because after all, wouldn't it be handy to see ALL of it and not just the two thirds that fit on a Blogger blog template). Sorry about that.

Getting responsible

Okay, so I have made so many posts since my original blog's inception in 2005, about getting serious, about sharing what I discover, about opening up the realms I'm discovering and sharing that learning here with whomever wants to travel with me.

I have been so slack. No. More's the point, I have been too afraid. Even after saying I wasn't last time. And the time before.... and the one before that. It's just that I'm finding so much assistance and support in areas of my life where I previously used to really founder (or is it flounder??), I'm now starting to recognise energies at play and clashing. But I still feel like such a novice, not to mention a hypocrite, because I am working on myself and beating myself up so hard - something I have always been wont to do. And I guess that is also what has been holding me back from sharing too much, kind of like I have no right to share something out if I haven't fully mastered it myself. I've come to realise that you don't have to have ALL the answers or be an absolute perfectionist at something to share your knowledge.... and in fact, quite the contrary: to not share what you know is actually very spiritually irresponsible.

So now, for what it's worth, I'm just going to roll my sleeves up and create these posts more often and get started. Please dip in and out of them as you need/wish. I also invite questions, challenges, opinions... respectful ones of course *hey it's my blog, I can make the rules* I want to pay particular attention to the Animal Wisdom I've been coming across, some of it is just so amazing and lovely that I am certain it would bring comfort to people at various times. It's really confirming (to me) to have something answered on the back of an animal messenger. Truly wondrous, and really brings me back to the "we're all connected" thing. I will start putting up Animal Wisdom mandalas too and make their own special link on the side *over there at the right* so please avail yourself of those posts as you see fit. I'd love to have your feedback and hear any stories or encounters :) And, of course, if you have an animal that is coming to you (in whichever way it is presenting itself - sometimes that might be dream states, other times it could be in meditation, or even persistently sitting at the main window of your house or crossing your path, etc., you catch my drift), that I have not touched on, please mention it to me and I will scour my resources and see if I have anything I can share to enlighten you.

The way these mandalas work is different for each individual. Some will gain much from looking at the image, others might find resonance with the stone essence - you may even have the stone and like to carry it around with you, this will give a deeper meaning to that stone perhaps, if you do - and yet others will glean something/what they are meant to from the words of the paper. I tend to find that, for me, it's become a little from Column A and a little from Column B... I sometimes find great support and assistance in merely reading a mandala's words, but at other times I have to ask for the stone essence too (a pretty simple procedure in itself, it's as simple as going "upstairs" and asking your particular Guidance/Source for that to be put into your pattern - working on the basis that every person, plant, animal, living thing has an energy, as has been scientifically proven, and within that energy is a framework... a pattern, if you will... that is unique to that individual). And it has to be said, the words and wording can sometimes be a real mouthful. But please, if you are willing, just trust it and take it in. They can be huge lumps to decipher, and you don't actually have to consciously "get it" to take it in. Reading it can sometimes be enough to create the shift or support you are requiring. I tend to merely let them do their job, even if the wording sometimes goes sailing way over my head :)

I thought I would start with the most pertinent mandala that came up for me during Yellow Ray, which was months ago now. I discovered this paper and corresponding mandala and everything in it, to me, screamed "stick this on your blog!" And I shamefully never have before now. Perhaps that timing was simply so that I could gather my senses and feel more comfortable with the ensuing feedback that may or may not follow, if I am to stick to my laurels and continue to share this realm of my life of learning with the "whoever" out there.

I find this following mandala a good all-round, universal and responsible protective 'container'. It says to me that all boundaries shall be kept and looked after (on this blog and wherever it is needed in a person's life, if they so choose to take it with them as a totem), no matter a person's denomination or demeanour, and so I include it here for all to benefit from, should the need arise.

One's Own Owl of Onus

The Colour of ..... Spectrum Yellow
The sound chord of .... G minor 6
The stone essence of.... White Quartz.... The stone of the sage, WHITE QUARTZ addresses all hardened thought-forms, and dogmatic and restrictive unacceptance to other belief systems. It softens the fears which assume theirs is "the only way". WHITE QUARTZ brings the freshness of no-judgemental observation with the clarity of innocence and freedom from preconceptions. WHITE QUARTZ takes one from the cynical attitudes and old patterns of survival, where strictness or closed mindedness once stifled one's spiritual openness to life, and creates a comfortable care, assisting one to be clear in one's seeing. Both for where the physical requires maturity and growth and for children and the child within, WHITE QUARTZ allows one to experience one's inner light where the Spirit needs to be forever young. It aids the intestines, the skeletal system, the solar plexus and all cellular and corpuscle irregularity.

This is the perception of the onus of individual trust of the Self and of how to protect and define one's individual energy structure. This guiding star leads to one's original purpose in life and assists one to power source one's soulful intent of divinity into the physical walk.
Here one stands strong and still in the expression of one's truth and territory of peaceful placement. This Mandala disperses fault lines of other opinions which have frailed one from speaking whilst one was young in youth of timely action to proceed.
This is not fault-finding judgement, but a necessary harbour of waiting whilst the winds of wisdom turn in the direction for better sailing to one's appointed destination.

The sage of individual wisdom personified is directed by searching for conscious landmarks to know when to be responsible for imparting one's truth, and also how to impart one's truth. The Owl Star of Sky is one's highest guidance and adviser from which one should seek counsel and be navigated by when the journey requires one's responsibility to individual Earth service to pioneer and landmark another's journey with one's spoken or insightful truth.
This Mandala ensures a safer journey for all when travelling the world of wisdom, for one's journey should always ease the way for those following.

Shining above the pyramid (the barn for the birth of intuitive sight), the Owl Star is the Father of Travel in Time who watches over and guides the sole/soul seeker in their spiritual souljourn.
This star also elects who is best directed toward one's individual wisdom personified in land-marked expression, so that they may journey more safely and with more ease. This is the 'milky way' of individual honesty of truth.

When one is overshadowed or unduly influenced by another's unsuitable or intrusive input of energy, the six-pointed star Mandala will assist dispersion of this influence. If one is unsure if one's individual truth is unduly influencing another, the six-pointed star will determine the correct boundaries from which to interrelate with another.

This Mandala aligns the perceptional state to a quality of equality, attuning the child and the adult with equality within, and those with whom one is in relation within the world of the conscious, and with those whom one meets in the travel of time beyond the conscious to the Cosmos. Innocence is the gift of equality.......................

Boiled eggs rock our house

A fun way to avoid a mishap with mistaking raw eggs for boiled that I'm now addicted to is to put faces on the LGBB's boiled eating eggs. I love it. There's a sheer joy to be had, by her and me, when she meets her egg. Hello, I'm Lolly, I'm going to crack your head open and eat you now. Enjoy!

Just quietly, I wouldn't want to sit next to any of this lot on a plane.

Something in it

In 2004, I can't remember the month off the top of my head but I have it written down, I had a really profound dream.

This was the year, of course, that I was coming back down to Earth after the euphoria of giving birth to our Ella. And coming down from the floating, nothingness of learning how to live life without her. And yet, with her. For she was both in my life and not.

At first thought, it didn't seem like much. The dream, I mean. It was about an ocelot. I didn't know what an ocelot was, but I sure did after that. I seemed to know, as I was dreaming, this was what this animal was.

It was a terrifying dream. One of those ones that grips you and, even four years later, I can remember the fear and dread I felt even when I woke up. A cold sweat dream. One that you come out of, realising, by the sensations in your body, that you've had adrenaline coursing through you and when you connect it's because of the dream you just had, it kind of freaks you out a little bit more.

The dream was this: I was somewhere outside, in the pitch dark. My eyes were wide as saucers, trying to adjust to the lack of light. Eventually, I was able to see a little bit in front of me.

I was in a forest. A forest of dead, bare, white-bark trees. It looked as if a fire had gone through and razed all the vegetation, everything seemed to be white ash. It was beautiful but almost lunar in its appearance. That is... if the moon had dead trees.

And then I saw something flash, not too far away from me. It was an animal and I was seeing its eyes glinting off the light source. I was the light source, I realised. I got scared then. It looked hunched and it was coming towards me. It was staring fixated at me as it padded closer, obviously hunting me like I was its prey.

I backed up and found myself standing alongside one of the trees. I clamboured up the trunk, trying to get as high off the ground as I could. I was becoming petrified but I don't know what of, exactly. The dark, the unseen animal, the silence. All of it. I was hyperventilating and panicking by now. This was not what I had bargained for, this dream, when I had gone to bed that night asking for a message or visit from Ellanor (something I had grown used to doing, for I learned to look out for her or her words in my dream state), I remember thinking.

And then I saw this animal. Wow, it's beautiful but it looks spooked, I thought. It looks menacing and out for my blood, why is it hunting me so fiercely? It was an ocelot. I was told in my dream it was an ocelot.

Its staring eyes never left mine. We gazed at each other as this animal came closer and closer, really getting low to the ground now. And then it leapt towards me.

I was up this tree, nowhere else to go. It sank its sharp, feline claws into my right thigh. And I screamed. The pain was searing and instant and still lingered after I woke up, the silent scream still in my lungs. I let the air of that scream out just as I woke. I was still petrified, but was now in the relative safety of the darkness of our bedroom, Steve sleeping peacefully at my side.

Four years later, I looked up that animal. The Ocelot. I wondered only this year what it had been trying to say to me. And I am astounded and grateful at the message it was trying to deliver at that time. It patches another part of the quilt of my healing at that stage, for it was also the beginning of my new awakening into the more aware, more open, more willing person I have become.

Animal Totem: The Ocelot
(taken from this website that came up high on my Google search)

Comfortable in the high trees and in water,
Ocelot can show you how to adapt to whatever environment you find yourself
and how to look at your surroundings from on high.

Ocelot also shows you how to regenerate
through solitude and quiet meditation.

Because they live in both land and water,
they have a connection with both the physical and spiritual world
and the ability to be in two places at once.

Use Ocelot as your meditation guide to connect to the spirit world.

Putting aside the obvious - that it was a confirmation of my connecting to Ella in the world she had so briefly left to come here - this was so profound to me when I came across this particular wording of this totem.

So much of this makes sense or at least gives clarity, even so long after the fact. When I think back to my earthly landscape at that particular time, my life was much different. It did take looking from things from a higher perspective - my soul's perspective, or my higher consciousness - for that is where I learned to forgive myself, give myself a break, solace and, most important to my survival, a place in which to regenerate over and over, sometimes apparently daily. For this was our new life; it was a life pummelled by insecurities, feeling bereft, gathering strength for the next day's trespasses by people I was supposed to learn to accept even though they were clearly not accepting me in my newfound state.

My fear of my ability in this area of other-worlds, too, becoming more and more obvious to me and seemingly running away with me sometimes, was also clear to me in this animal's wisdom. I was the Light source, a point not lost on me now I look back on it. It gave me some confirmation, at least, that I had been on the 'right track', even back then. This was something that was delivered to me so purely, while I was 'out to it' and under no real, conscious, control of what was going to flash up on my screen in my dream state. There was no chance for me to wave it off, to be too afraid to be open to it (although I was at my uppermost limit on the fear stakes, even in my subconscious state), to reason it away. And look, it has taken over four years for me to seek its learning. I was only ready to really receive the message now. In right time. And guess what, Wednesday (today) I'm doing Indigo Ray class..... Can't wait to see what that's all about.

"If they can't get it through to you while you're awake, they'll do it when you're asleep!" Jen once laughingly told me. How right she was.

The 'mato Monster

The scene: Saturday lunch.
The players: Steve, me, the LGBB and Nanna and Pa.
The setting: A plate of salad greens, cherry tomatoes, tuna, sliced egg, various dips and some fresh rolls and a help-yourself atmosphere.

Everyone set about making up their rolls. The LGBB had all hands on deck to assist her to build her own special roll. After eating a half of it, she decided cucumber was really not her thing and then staked claim on the half dozen or so remaining tomatoes.

One by one, shovelling them in like a mechanical clown head at an amusement park accepting ping pong balls.

Steve: Lolly, I think that's enough now.
LGBB: *taking a pause from working on the tomato rounding out her cheek comically and staring at Steve as if he'd just told her Sportacus wasn't a real person*

She finishes eating her fourth tomato and goes for the last one. With hand outstretched and face as telling as Jazz's when you can see what she's thinking as she makes her way to food she knows she shouldn't have but just can't help herself, I seize my moment to make my point.

Me: Hey, Lolly, there's only one left.
LGBB: *doe eyes at me*
Me: Perhaps someone else would like that one. It might be nice for Daddy. Or Nanna..... Or Pa, or even Mummy.
LGBB: *without skipping a second and eyes downcast, the most impassioned look stuck on her face* Or Lawren. Iss Lawren's. Iss.... for Lawren.

On and on it went, her eyes not locking on any of us but head nodding to add conviction to her single-minded protest. So before we all burst with guffaws, I straight-facedly asked her to ask around the table and if nobody else wanted the tomato, she could then have it.

Me: Ask Daddy.
Steve: *before she could form the question* No, it's ok, I don't want one, thank you.
Me: And Nanna, ask Nanna.
LGBB: *rubbing her hand along her chair arm nervously and looking at Nanna, unable to bring herself to say anything in case the answer was yes*
Nanna: It's ok, darling, I don't want it. Thank you for asking.
Me: What about Pa? Don't forget to ask Pa, Lolly.

At this point, Pa and the LGBB locked eyes. Lolly decided enough was enough. And this is what she asked:

"Pa, iss Lawren's 'mato? (pronouncing it again slowly in case he hadn't understood) Law-wen's" And then she nodded emphatically and reached for it as Pa defeatedly acceded that, indeed, it was hers.

Am I FUNNY to you?

Once was enough. Once put us in recycled rubbish up to *here* and I'm still trying to cyphon it into the bin in little trickles so we don't run out of room and have an overflowing bin by the next fortnight. I've got an overflow bin for the (massive) bin that barely lasts us a fortnight. And yet, we can't seem to ever fill the titchy little household rubbish bin - which is good, it shows we're diligent.

But you forgot the damn thing AGAIN! I am now going to be a month behind and it will take even longer to get rid of the built-up recyclables.

Very symbolic of my life right now, really. Kirrily, you're a month behind on clearing out your karmic rubbish, get on with it will ya? I've just headed into my first cycle since the D&C and quite frankly, I can't believe it's only been a month. It feels like six months ago. We've been sick since then, because the LGBB caught the hand, foot and mouth a week later. I haven't even turned a thought towards processing all of that. It's day by day stuff here still and it's wearing me down to a grinding halt.

So. This is grounds for a trial separation. Mark my words.

Depending on the street

I can't believe I have never discussed Flight of the Conchords here.

If you haven't seen these guys, I swear, you are totally missing out. I love them in the same kind of way you love that hilarious cousin that you'd never ever ever find attractive but you just love him so much because he's so funny. But just ... so not your type. That and, well, he's your cousin.

One of my FAVOURITE songs of theirs. Please avail yourself of the series if you can. If not, watch the You Tube vids at least. These guys are awesome. And criminally funny.

Mac Daddy: It speaks to me

It's a modern piece that makes a bold statement.
The artist's use of black and red on stark white creates contrasts that vie for attention in my brain. Meandering strokes on one side of the divide and point-making daggers on the right are brought to attention by a poignant and subtle use of red, dividing the two.
It is just scribble to some.
It is a picture worth a thousand words to others.
It is a man wearing spectacles coping with fuzzied, jumbled thoughts, smoking a smouldering red cigar to me.

It is...

Lolly's first computer doodle. Composed on a 24" screen Mac at Daddy's work. Very busy day.

Just like that

This afternoon, I picked up the telephone, dialled a number that was long unfamiliar to me and hesitated for a brief moment before I punched the last digit into the phone. What am I doing, what am I even going to say?

And then I just pressed 'Talk' and waited for an answer, promising myself to gauge whether or not to back out once I heard the response from the receptionist.

"Monash IVF, good afternoon, you're speaking with Anne," she said.

Ok, ok. Don't nobody go sitting more upright in their chairs, now, y'hear? I wasn't calling for that. I was calling to speak to the geneticist who handled our fragile little embies in 2005 and ask her for another favour. We built up quite a rapport with Lyn, she seemed to innately know that hers was not merely a business of science. She was a special lady.

I use past tense because, unfortunately, she retired last year. I'll never get to speak to Lyn and tell her we did it. We finally did it. On our own. I wished now that I had done what an online acquaintance (who was integral in our beginning our first PGD cycle) had suggested over eighteen months ago and called her to update her. "She'd be so pleased for you," she had probably quite rightly predicted.

Oh well. Not to be, I guess.

But I did get through to her successor. A much younger, yet just as lovely, sounding woman who was readily able to answer and fulfil my request. Before I even knew what I was saying, I asked her for the results of the mapping they used to compare our biopsied embryonic cells. It would show the 16 most common markers in Steve's swimmers that are abnormal.

"I need it for a book I'm writing," I explained. "I want to be accurate as possible about what I'm writing in it. "
"Wow, good on you," she replied.
"Well, that and... it would sort of help us integrate the information we receive when we get pathology results on babies we lose. It'd just... help. I guess."

And then after a moment's more thought, she kindly said, "That must be very difficult for you."

Yes. It is.

A TRILLION dollars mooh-hwahwahwaaaa

My favourite photo of the day.

It's one part caught off guard, one part thinking nothing much in particular and one part "why do you constantly look through that black thing". And it's a currently rare instant where I'm not being demanded of - for time, attention, food, drink, arranging for Sportacus or "Roddy Robin" ("That naughty Roddy Robin," she says) to come to her home and play... or any or all of the above.

And it's perfectly her. Her in a moment.

Just have to remind myself

Ralph Fiennes. I know I love him. But in recent years, I am struggling to remember why it is that I find Ralphie-boy so attractive. Mainly because he keeps doing this to his hair. I saw him last night in In Bruges and he played such an unlikeable character who couldn't be warmed to that I felt like we'd had a falling out, me and Ralph.

So I googled him. And I remembered the movie where I was appalled at myself for becoming rather *cough*aroused*cough* during The Red Dragon, mostly due to that scene where he goes crazy in his home and sets it on fire and runs up those stairs.... without any clothes on.... I shamefully watched the movie again just to reconfirm that I had been very interested in the way he ran. Without any clothes on. Oh yeah, there was that thing about how he tried to burn his house down with his blind 'girlfriend' in it. But still. Nice bottom.

A girlfriend once sent me a dvd-loaner of a movie she bought herself. It was The End of the Affair. Inside the cover was a special handwritten note (no, not from Ralph, it was from my girlfriend) for me to pause at a particular point and take a moment to smile and sigh. It was during a scene where he and Julianne Moore are so hot and heavy that his pants suddenly... fall off.*

He's not shy of getting his kit off and showing his bottom, is he? I guess that can add to his appeal somewhat.

But I say again... not when he keeps doing this to his hair.

Ok. Just as a reminder as to why he's in my Top 5. Let's cement it in our memory, shall we:


Ahhh. That's better. I can continue on with my day now.


* GRAPHIC CONTENT - DON'T BLAME ME IF YOUR KIDS ARE IN THE ROOM: And ohmygod I can't believe someone's swaptubed it. They didn't even know how to do it like that in the '40s, did they???

Sunny Side Up gets all political-like. For a second.

Following on from a link over here, I sat and read this article.

Thought you might like to read it too. I found it fabulous.

And by the way, Melissa -- nope, no idiots here, either!

Chéz Loléz

We tried a new café yesterday. When we turned up it looked inviting enough. We were welcomed warmly and took a seat each.

Then, things started to get a bit weird.

The waitress seemed confused when I asked for a capuccino. She took my order gleefully enough, but instead of waiting for my money, she simply smiled widely, turned and walked over to the cash register where she proceeded to take out a $5, bringing it back to pay me and calling it "A hunret. And fifty. Dollez". I was confused, to say the least.

Then Steve gave her his order too and the waitress busied herself by turning circles, seemingly to steady her excited self, before heading back to the cash register and retrieving more money for him.

Bizarre.

But then, things got a whole lot weirder.

We looked over, while we waited on the comfy chairs, and to our surprise we saw the waitress obiously straining. She made no effort to disguise that she was very noticeably filling her ... pinafore ... with the exception of turning her face away. But we could see, with the lifting of the strands of hair over her face, that she was exerting quite some effort and breathing it out as she *hushed tones* pushed one out.

Steve leaned over to me at this point and quietly instructed me from the corner of his mouth, "Just don't order a hot chocolate, whatever you do." I think it was this point that I finally fell off my chair, unable to regain any composure.

Despite all this, the place was a treat. Absolutely quaint. I highly recommend the brownies.

"Talk to my Agent"

Lolly "Bono" Blissbomb has no comment. Dressed by Pumpkin Patch.

Why I love the people I've chosen to have in my life

It went exactly like this:

Me: It was a boy... the baby.
Them: Oh! *realisation sinking innnnnn around-a-bouuuuut...nnnnnnnow* ..........Oh............
Me: Yeah.
Them: Well, we'd better get going. We have to get to Bunnings before we go home.
Me: Ho-kay! *feeling surprisingly, refreshingly good about the exchange because, for once, I did not lay any private expectations on them this time for a sympathetic reaction - why would they suddenly do that after this long*

I needed to tell them. This "them" who are not in my life by choice. End of story, nothing more. There isn't even a hint of a residual "but it would've been nice to get x,y,z from them". Man, this is liberating! The people I've chosen to have in my life, of course, would remind me that I've come a long way, baby. That I can announce my losses and let them hang in the air, expose my sense of maternal, feminine, failure in that loss. And I haven't died from it yet. Maybe once upon a time, just a little bit, inside. But funnily enough, even that bit's regenerated now. Pity it can't grow me an extra pair of hands, that same mutated Regrowing Stuff gene I apparently have.

This is the reason why I am really pleased with the choices I am making, about whom I give my heart and whole to. It highlights even more those who are going to remain in my life but cannot ever hope to get the All of me. And it's why I include this little exchange here. To remind myself.

How To Recreate The Mouth Part

(of Hand, Foot & Mouth)


Pre-requisite 1. One must be comfortable with standing for long hours in front of the mirror poking one's tongue out at one's reflection, in a vain attempt to find spots and lumps and other protrusions that are invisible to the naked eye.

Pre-requisite 2. One must refrain from swears in front of one's young children, lest one wants to be confronted with a potty-mouthed potty-trainer (can one say OOOOPS?).

You will need - a razor blade, a hot drink, a sharp needle, something salty (crisps are good), a toothbrush and toothpaste, sleeping tablets, a plate of Beef Vindaloo.


Step One: Take the sleeping tablets (up to 2 work well). Make sure you go to sleep on your back. The object of this is to get you into such a deep sleep that you bite your own tongue so hard, in varying places, including and especially that hard-to-bite back side of the tongue which can only be reached in the deepest of slumbers.

Now you will have several large, swollen, numb and very sore to the brush of the tongue against the inside of the cheek lumps. Good. Now you are ready to continue to phase two.

Step Two: Take the razor blade and make long, hair-fine incisions across the tip of your tongue. Don't forget the underside!

Step Three: Place your salty item directly on the point of your sliced tongue. Hold it there for the count of five. Now you have experienced what it feels like to simply take in a sip of WATER.

Step Four: With the needle, lift off little bubbles from your tongue surface. Make sure they are raised enough that they will be irritating and have you constantly feeling your tongue with the inside of your mouth, whatever surface you can rest it on (the more painful the better for this one). The lumps should be small enough to be just barely visible, if at all, but large enough to feel like they are the size of Maltesers when you rub your tongue against your lip or the inside of your cheek.

Step Five: Go to the mirror. Poke your tongue out. Push it out as far as it will go. Feel the burn of the earlier applied tooth gouges from your incisors while you were sleeping as they are stretched past your lips. Search for the little tiny pinprick lumps you raised. Find nothing. Step and repeat several times a day until you get the sense you are going slightly out of your mind with the sheer pain and torment of feeling invisible annoying and agonising bumps on your tongue.

Step Six: Dip your tongue into the Vindaloo (points will be taken off for doing this before applying Steps 1 through 5). Lick the inside of your lips until you feel the pulsating heat. Sit your tongue in the centre of your mouth, hold it away from all sides including the bottom and let the radiating heat hit your pain centre. Feel the burn, students. Marvel at its very present, very localised presence.

Step Seven: Get the razor blade in your dominant hand. Poke around in your eyeball a bit. This has nothing whatsoever to do with the torment of Hand, Foot & Mouth, but it will surely take your mind off the inescapable horrors going on in your mouth.

Step Eight: Swallow the razor. Slowly. Ensure it scraps your throat but, strangely, only from the very back of your mouth and about part way down your oesophagus.

Step Nine: This is when you can introduce strong flavours like toothpaste to your mouth. Put on the tiniest pea-sized amount on your toothbrush because you want to be sure you are not inflicting this wanton pain on your person. Put the brush gingerly into your mouth. Note any attempts you may have to ignore the pain of simply doing this. Begin to brush. The bristles of the brush will inevitably pass over the surfaces of your tongue, particularly the side, so don't skimp on the experience. Let them push into your tongue with similar delicate pressure to that which a neurosurgeon with a scalpel might delicately operate on a patient - but make special note of how this feels like the pressure of an elephant pushing against a raw egg sitting on concrete.

Step Ten: Now you have made it to step 10, you are probably pretty used to the antics in your mouth. They have been there for weeks on end with no let-up. The effect of your nightly self-prescribed pain pill-popping to assist you to go to sleep is wearing off. So now, the time is ripe: begin to test yourself, stretch yourself. Feel the pain and do it anyway. Get your hot drink, take a sip... Swallow... And then you can let out your agonised AAAARGH or an expletive (repetition of which by any nearby small children is optional).

Step Eleven: When you are sure all your symptoms from Steps 1 to 8 have passed, wait for exactly THREE DAYS and then kiss your significant other. Points are awarded to any who are passed on the symptoms from said S.O. Then, and only then, are you free to curse yourself for becoming passionate with someone with a dreaded lurgy you just got rid of. Now take it on the chin and resume the process for endless days with nobody able to alleviate your symptoms nor offer a solution to get rid of them. You might like to try wading in sticky, heavy mud in your boots at this point to simulate the sensation.

Lastly, Step Twelve: Look to the heavens and say you understand now. You understand WHY you watched your child writhe for three days, even with the best over the counter pain relief money can buy, despite all your efforts of distraction and coercion to eat/drink something, anything.

So. Who's game to try it? C'mere, gimme a kiss *pucker up, Buttercup*

And so, the opposite of happiness must be...

...opening the washing machine to pull out the nappies you put on to wash last night. Diving straight in, both hands, pulling out the wet items with efficient speed so you can hang them out in today's gorgeous, wild, slightly warm-tinged breeze.

And then letting the stench hitting your nose finally sink in to your fuzzy morning-brain.

These stink! Some of these nappies need a damn good sun-soaking...... Must be those bamboo ones..... oh. Shit. Literally. Then I remember.

I didn't turn on the machine last night.

Don't worry. I washed up before I came and bashed this frustration out on the keyboard.

Happiness is...

Finding a yo-yo you bought earlier in the day, in your bag,
when you were looking for something else.

Better still, finding it when you've just made a cuppa.

Ahhhhhh!

Never ceasing to intrigue me

Yesterday morning, I was putting the LGBB's shoes on to go for a walk up the street to our new fave place to go - "'Cino lady's" café - when out of nowhere, the LGBB says, "Doctor." I didn't add to it, as it was just a singular, out-there-on-its-own word. She's been saying it for months, so it wasn't a practice. I was left for a nanosecond wondering when she'd last seen a doctor. About three weeks, I calculated. Then she says:

"My help sick people." (to the LGBB, "my" is "I" - as in, "I want a drink" = "My want a drink")

So I said to her, "Do you, Lolly?" She nodded. And that was that. I was just left very interested in her imagination and thoughts that day.

When I got her up from her nap later in the afternoon, she was baffled, a bit confused, as I opened her curtains and started getting her up out of bed.

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "Where are all the people???? Where people go?"
"Well, I don't know," I answered," where were they?"

And she pointed to a corner of her room.

Okay, now I'm interested. You have my attention, Lol, just where are you going when you're asleep?

She does this sort of thing all the time, ever since she started communicating with us. Don't get me wrong, it's probably only one thing every other week - it's not constant and it's not often enough to be very noticeable, it's very subtle but getting stronger and more obvious as she gets older and can actually verbalise things. Like, she says names of people she doesn't know (which was more noticeable when she was 18 months old and barely saying other words but would clearly say someone's name when I got her up from a sleep), I've seen her waving and animated to.... well, nothing.... I've seen her check her own aura^ and just other little but very intriguing things that aren't what I would have expected to see or hear from such a young'un. Although, then again, I'm certain children all around the world do this sort of thing and it just gets explained away, goes unnoticed and/or gets zombied out of them.

We put them back to sleep. Us. The reasonable, sensible, "give me evidence" adults.

I mean, hey... who's to say there wasn't a crowd of people waiting for some help in her room? It doesn't scare me if it doesn't scare her. I wonder what will happen to this Earth if more kids are enabled* to explore what the can do in this area instead of shut down. What if they are being born to turn around what's happening, what generations and generations of us have been doing? I have noticed a "waking up" of parents over the past few years - more people, for example, are open to allowing these amazing things their young children are doing to flourish. They are willing to nurture that, not so willing to have their spirits smooshed into the societal mould, etc.

For instance, I told Steve about the exchange yesterday and asked him what he thought. He simply said, "She's got a great imagination."

Yes. That is one way to look at it, undeniably. But if you consider all the things that have happened with her over her life so far - adding to this the number of people, unprompted, who continually say how tuned in she is (to the Earth) - I have to be responsible, by injecting a healthy dose of commonsense and denial and scepticism into the balance I try to strike for her. A balance between a typical, testing-boundaries, Hi-5 loving, normal childhood (allowing that space for her to be a child - away from knowing about adult responsibilities too soon, away from abuse, away from anything that would cause her to grow up too fast) and also creating a safe space for her to practice and test her other abilities, if indeed she has any - and I am being far too flippant when I say "if" because I know she does. I'm interested to see which way she goes with it. It's all her choice.

But I am going to be sure of one thing: if she goes back to "sleep" and doesn't end up being an intuitive healer of the Earth of some sort, it won't be through my discouragement.


^ she was nine months old when she did that - traced with her eyes an 'invisible', to me, circle from her feet, right round her body, over her head, down the other side of her body and to her feet again. Out of context, doesn't mean much, right? In context, she had just been asked if there was anything else that needed clearing in her pattern and I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen her do it with my own eyes, completely unprompted at all. At nine months old, there's not much verbal understanding going on - I realised at that point that I had to pull my own socks up, with regard to how I regarded her (ie. as not "just a nine month-old baby who doesn't know anything yet").

* Not encouraged, so much, because a large part of me is still sceptic that it's not just because kids are heavily suggested to and that's why people see their children do this sort of thing so I am keeping very close tabs on how I expose the LGBB to what happens to me in this area - as in, she doesn't know - so I am buoyed by the fact that, at 2, she either has a phenomenal imagination already or she really is seeing this stuff.

Oil of Vetiver

Russet Ray healing came and went two weeks ago. I was sitting up in bed, sick as a dog, the LGBB having finally exhausted herself in her own bed, at the height of our Hand, Foot & Mouth (oh... did I tell you? The sores have come back on my tongue, it's like I'm going another round, just to be SURE I've got enough to cope with this week). I read the manual in fits and starts. It put me to sleep. Strangely, it is to do with psychological mastery, "the Ray of Rejuvenescence for the Soul of Matter."

I couldn't have known even then, on the day I started reading it, that a week later I would be contemplating my place in my family once again and really having a once-and-for-all look at how I had been shaped by my upbringing.

So it was with this in mind - and the fact that I never did read the last 5 or 6 pages (the animal wisdom section) of the manual - that I sat on the couch yesterday morning near the playing LGBB, to find the opened manual tucked under one of the cushions. It was there where I'd left it, planning to come back to it at some stage but as yet not finding the proper time to give it thought.

I began to flick through, looking at which animals pertain to Russet Ray. Dog, Ox, Rabbit, Giraffe... then I came to the oil page. Each ray also has a related essential oil or two. I don't very much read that bit, unless I am actually doing the class (and then we read through it, but sometimes not as well - it's very much a "read it in your own time" section, this last section of each manual). I really felt like I wanted to read it, though. I was happy sitting in the filtered sun, on the couch, watching Lolly. And I thought, why not. So I did.

It was so relevant that I can't deny it. This is the reason I love this work so much. There is much support to be had via such basic, ancient tools. Gots to gets me some Vetiver.

Oil of Vetiver is a treasure amongst oils. It works to the root of the problem. It burrows down through the layers and then through more layers to reveal the way of Truth in making decisions, to heal old hurts from times past. It will always burn through these layers to reveal new ways for the being to be confronted. Vetiver can then be seen as the revealer, the presenter of painful lessons to be learned. However, Vetiver should be seen in its positive aspect only as it moves away the old darkness for the Light to come in and begin healing with its nurture and love.

If appropriate, Oil of Vetiver will assist one to access cellular memory. Many beings shy away from looking at the pain they carry within and, instead, use a purely intellectual process to try to work through their issues. By doing this, the ego-mind actually sabotages the being - the physical pain stored in teh subtle bodies may be released but, until cellular memory is activated through the release of emotional and physical energy, a healing will be incomplete.

Oil of Vetiver sings to the being, sends love to the being and will comfort the being that has decided to walk through the door to the future and discard the pain of the past. Oil of Vetiver's special attribute is to penetrate pain at a very deep level. Many beings will be prepared to wrok at a surface level in their energetic clearings but will feel uncertain to delve into old emotoinal energy. But this dear Oil holds the hand of a being in a healing partnership and says,
"We can do this. I will help you to feel safe and secure. Lean on me until you can walk through this pain with strength and courage. Look at the stars! Anything is possible when you perceive the beauty of the night sky, for when you come out the other end of this time, you will claim the Universe as your own. My dear one, have the courage to look within and spring-clean the limitations your fear puts on you. Then you will spread your wings and fly."

Oil of Vetiver mixed with Oils of Tangerine and Orange will assist one to release old pain to do with torture.
Oil of Vetiver mixed with Oil of Sandalwood is excellent to burn after a clearing has begun and the being is feeling 'stuck' and very emotional.
Oil of Vetiver mixed with Oils of Sandalwood and Lemon Grass and then vaporised after a healing, will quickly dissipate any residual energy in the auric field.
Oil of Vetiver has a great affinity with Orange, Yellow and Red and will combine with other oils to do with Earth Healing.

With regards to place, this dear Oil is very valuable. like the body, the landscape holds old negativity to its heart and finds it difficult to expel the darkness. Vetiver is an important Oil for Earth Healers as it jolts the negative energy cycle.

- from Lee Baxter, "Healing Botanicals: Plant energies to heal person and place"

Swatch you lookin' at?

I am going to throw myself into decorating the LGBB's room. It is about to become about 1/4 size bigger than it is now, once Steve has finished taking out the ensuite. I know, even a two year old could find it handy but really, it's not to our taste and we don't need a bathroom *right there* It's so in the way.

I'm thinking of keeping the same magenta-coloured wall that she has now, although that existing one will be knocked down, so I'll paint one wall in this colour again. I think a fresh coat of lime might look nice on the other walls. Kinda like some big candy apple!

And I am thinking of these three fabrics for re-covering her canvasses (at the moment they're Suzy's Zoo characters and she loves them.... perhaps I am doing this too soon):

I think they're gorgeous - bird-theme came from nowhere, I really just liked the funky fat birds (am a sucker for chubby charicatures of animals) - but don't know how well they'll suit.

Ah, stuff it. I feel like living dangerously. I'm going to get them. Such a cheap decorating idea, you really can't go wrong.

Well.... why not today?

My Ob just called.

It was a boy.

I knew it.

When even patience doesn't pay off

"It was meant to be MIIIIINE"

Jazz gives a withered look to camera as the LGBB makes a quip
about the pesky last bite of sandwich getting stuck in her teeth

Goin' on a bear hunt

It's so true.

The Guardian Friend got back to me over the weekend and described this next big shitpile of healing I am facing as "going on a bear hunt", ie. you can't go over it, you can't get under it, you can't go around it.... You just have to go right through it.

"I'm not scared
It's a beautiful day"

I have statements and conclusions and questions and facts racing, chasing themselves, around in my head now. It's like something from Harry Potter - some lid has been opened and the contents are now whirling up and out, raging and free and furious, some of them.

Worst of all, I had to call my father yesterday - no, you're right, I didn't have to, but I felt obliged to - for Fathers' Day. Now, on the one hand, he didn't do anything wrong. But that's just it. He didn't do anything to protect me. In my childlike reasoning, he could have stopped me getting hurt. He didn't. Because he didn't know what was happening. In living with this, though, it goes a long way to explaining why I always felt like my father didn't love me that much when I was a kid growing up.

Of course he did. Probably. Oh, I don't know....

And because of what had been mulling over in my mind, it smarted more than a little that after chatting for fifteen minutes, he announced he had to go because Doctor Who was coming on. I know, I know, he had given me fifteen minutes.... The point is, there was such a divide between us, caused by everything I was going through and couldn't even begin to open up again to him about, especially given the last time I tried and his response.

When I was a young woman in my early twenties, I was in a job that afforded me a LOT of spare time. It was ridiculous. I was also surrounded by males who appeared to really dislike and disrespect women. I was one of only three in the workplace, the rest (over twenty) were men. Why am I telling you this? Nothing happened, nothing twigged in me, no lights went on. But in that spare time I had, I started reading and researching child psychology. What makes kids tick. What they need to grow up, nurtured and safe. I got on to some university website - back when the www was just a wee toddler, not the mighty thing it is today, now I think about it - and immersed myself in learning what creates self esteem in children.

Turns out, a girl's father is the main teacher or instiller(?is that a word?) of her self confidence. How she sees herself in the world. Of course, also how to test her own sexual boundaries when they begin to emerge in adolescence.

Now, because of my specific family circumstances, I was segregated from my father for pretty much all of my childhood. Certainly, emotionally, I would never have gone to him before going to my mother. She made it so. I feared him, I depised him, for not really any good reason than the conditioning I had been under by my other parent.

So when I was abused, even though it was right under both their noses, I can see very clearly (as an adult now) that they had their plates full with their own woes with each other. As it turns out, barely two years after I stopped the abuse, my parents separated and my Dad left.

Where am I going with all this? You may well ask. I don't know. I think there will probably be a lot of rambling posts of this nature for a while to come.

What I do know is that where I am headed, I needed to sweep out this corner of my life and really examine the contents, safely and well supported, because I can't be half-fixed/half-broken if I am to be of any use to people in need of their own healing, can I? I am willing to do it for myself if it means others will benefit. Another symptom of my upbringing it may be, but that's how it is.

I can also see much more plainly why I have been so desperate for Steve to show strength - not that he can't be vulnerable or sensitive, on the contrary I need that too and these traits would have attracted me to him... the strong, silent, hilarious type, that's my Lenny - but when he began to go under after the LGBB was born, I rode him pretty hard and have done from time to time ever since, that he needs to "fix" himself or be right in his mind. It could be seen as selfish, but I think more accurately, it's because I really need a partner to be resilient for both of us. I've been "strong" and have survived my childhood, teenage years in a fractured family and mentally unstable mother, then of course, the Big Bang that caused me to learn more about myself and give the impetus to delve deeper under the surface: losing Ella.

I often wonder how different my adult life would have played out if that first pregnancy had worked, back in 2000. At that stage, I was so expectant and oblivious and blinkered that I would never have had the life I have now. The life online. The awareness of what might be behind why that woman avoids my eyes when I pass her with my daughter in her pram. The unhappy face of a child dragging his feet behind his parents. I look into the faces of young children and hope they are safe. Hope, if not, that they are resilient enough to make it to adulthood with their sanity mostly intact. Then, it's up to them. They can do it if they get there, out from under their parents' roof.

I must have had enough of an injection of knowing I was okay, because it saw me through. I could be such a different person now - and I was heading into bitterness and cynicism and the "tough? They wanna see doing it tough? They don't know the half of it" way of seeing the world. It's not helpful at all to add to all the "me, mine, MINE!" selfish crud out there and think that way. Instead, I have thankfully been able to channel it somewhat. I've had the tools and started the learning to buffer all that and I can stand back and mostly make sense of why things have happened to me as they have.

For instance, the rock-bottom self esteem that has crushed me on and off during my life was necessary in order for me to be humble enough to realise the teachings my life was offering me. If I had been more confident, they may have mostly sailed right over my head. And then, again, I wouldn't have been able to deliver my story and let people in to what goes on in the life of a mother after neonatal loss. Just one example. Of course, it doesn't all come back to that.

I thought more than twice about posting my last entry. I thought a slightly lesser number of times about posting this one. But by the time I began this entry, I had already come to the conclusion that I have nothing to be ashamed of. My abuser does. And you can bet there'll be no blog entry from him (if he has a blog) because it's probably been long forgotten or denied or reasoned away in his mind. As it stands, when I approached my parents (separately) at the age of about seventeen, my father had the chance to redeem his earlier failure to protect me. I sat there after telling him - and letting the realisation sink in - I had finally said it out loud and I'd worked myself up to doing it, it had taken a LOT of courage. My father spent all of ten seconds formulating a well-worded damage-control response ("how can I best play this down to make it go away and not cause drama or problems for anyone, including my daughter?") and explained it all away. Called it "experimentation" and that "boys will be boys". And pretty much, literally dusted his hands in front of me, stood up and announced he was going to make a cuppa and would anyone like one. He had the chance to affirm me. Inject me with some much-needed confidence. Given me a hug that said he wasn't again rejecting me, figuratively.

All it did was confirm to me that "it had been nothing"... that was, until I told my first counsellor about it. I was about 25 at that stage. And her head nearly lifted off with the steam coming out her ears. She affirmed me immediately by saying I could actually STILL press charges against him if I wanted to go that way. I would never do that. But my God, did I feel validated.

I think that's enough from me for now.

It started today.

In today's entry, we learn that...

1. If you were hoping for a giggle, you should look away now because you won't find it in this blog post.
2. The content in this post may come as a shock or slap in the face to some - good, now my two disclaimers are out of the way.


I have apparently been very adept at compartmentalising my painful and horrific experiences. And I'm talking about the ones that happened before I even reached the age of 10.

Speaking of 10, I have it on good authority from my therapist that it took a very brave ten year-old to stare down her systematic sexual abuser and say no that first time. And an even braver one to continue to grow in strength until he gave up approaching me anymore.

The almost daily thoughts that turn to what happened to me for those three years from age about 7 to 10 at the hands of someone who remains very prominently in my life today are numbed, anaesthetised, but under that anaesthetic lies a very frightened, very hostile, very alone little girl who is just beginning to emerge and be comforted properly for the first time in over twenty-three years.

Does it suck that I'm finding myself doing this? Now? Hell yeah. I am being consumed by it today, mostly because I can see very clearly for the first time how much of my life has been affected by this and how, even today as an adult, I cannot deny its impact on my self esteem and my relationships to people... well, to myself really, first and foremost. This past week, the interactions I have had with men have all been shrouded in this realisation I am coming to and as the real impact of what happened to me dawns on me further, the whites of my eyes are showing more.

I'm no longer that terrified little kid conditioned into submission and enabling of my abuser.

But I am hellishly afraid of that door and it's as if, before I can properly think or protest that I don't want to look in that room, I am suddenly stepping over the threshold anyway. I must be ready. I know I'll be looked after and I'll be safe. Still doesn't take away the fear of feeling the pain.

I've spoken about this before with counsellors. Never in detail. Only ever eluded to it. It's taken being with this therapist for this whole year (mostly to air out these corners of my subconscious and history so that I can quash patterns repeated in my family and ancestors and be the best person I can be for the LGBB to be around, I feel it is only responsible, given where I have come from) before I've come around to a point where I want to broach it with her. She's never pushed or hinted we should work our way around to it and I think that's why I feel very safe with her.

But I really started the ball rolling today and it feels surprisingly okay.

I lost my poor meatball when somebody sneezed

Sitting at the kitchen bench this morning, the LGBB chatting to her Little People and making them take turns with each other (No, iss not your turn, iss MY turn... No! Not MY turn, iss MY turn! Geez, are they bossy... and slightly confused), I was writing in her baby book for the first time this year - oops - and putting in little facts and anecdotes from all my hastily scribbled notes I've been compiling until I found the baby book. It was so well packed somewhere out there in the garage, where we still have literally half of our possessions that I couldn't believe I came across it when I did and was so excited that I had to write in it to celebrate.

The LGBB came up to me as I was taking a sip of tea and held out her curled fist, thumb and index finger pinching something or so I thought. Wassat? she says to me, curiosity in her voice. What's what? I answered her. And then I did a dumb thing. I held out my hand to receive what was in her fingers. And that's when she unfurled her fist and let a little pebble drop out into my waiting palm. A strangely organic-looking pebble. Hmmm, animal, vegetable or mineral? Oh. Last night's dinner I think.

"Ummmm, Lauryn.... that's poo," I say calmly, my mind ticking fast. She's not become one of those kids who reaches in to her nappy and does a bit o' paintin' has she? She's such a neat little girl, that's so unlike her. And as I looked past her slightly worried and concerned upturned face, her eyes searching mine to see if this was a good, bad or indifferent interaction we were having, I saw another larger "pebble" on the floorboards over where she'd been playing.

So I got up and fetched something to collect the poo in, before stooping to check what was going on with her nappy. That's right, I realised as soon as I had opened her pants - we've run out of 'sposies and Steve had put her in a Bum Genius..... the very same that had the weakened applix tabs (many of them are still in great nick, but one or two are dodgy as and wouldn't you know it, he used one of those - what were my chances?). So I sigh - under my breath, and yes, it is possible to sigh under your breath, are you with me? - and carry her to the nearest bathroom. Poor little poppet was SO sure she'd done something wrong and I had to stifle a giggle at her expense as she lay there making the sweetest, most obviously embarrassed, distraction-tactic small talk, complete with little chuckles over garbled words and hands flying to mouth in mock shock over whatever it was she was trying to relay. I had to correct her when she said she was silly though. I explained then what had happened and she listened intently as I let her know she had not done anything silly, or wrong, and that her nappy had, well, malfunctioned. Although I think I probably said it was her nappy that was the silly one, or something like that.

So I braced myself and began to delicately unwrap the present so kindly laid by the LGBB for me. I kid you not, it was phantom poo. I saw track marks down both her legs, which promptly reminded me of Mr Hanky bouncing all over Kyle's bathroom and leaving brown squelch marks wherever he lands as he sings merrily, but no more poo. Not even any further pebbles. Curious. Then I had visions of those two little pebbles leaving these trails as they made their way down her pant legs onto my floor. They couldn't have possibly made such happy trails, could they? They were too small, surely. And I then couldn't get the tune On Top Of Old Smokey (with that lyric change about the spaghetti, all covered with cheese, I lost my meatball when somebody sneezed... you must know the one, surely) out of my head after that. I was certain it must be at least meatball size, whatever I was looking for.

But no. Nothing further in her nappy. Best start setting to and clean her up, I thought, looking down at her still twittering away to herself (probably trying hard to imagine herself anywhere but here, because she's beginning to get all shy about getting her nappy changed and bum wiped so YEEEEE-HAR, toilet training hopefully will start soon - and I only say yee-har because I have a regular little mite who does three square, well not square, poos per day. Without fail. Threeeee! And that's just the minimum. So next time you complain about that one a day you are still changing that's making you look forward to potty time.... think of me, won't you?).

Before my brain could command control of my hands as I was preparing to kneel back down and begin the clean up, I suddenly realised the pants (pj's) I was holding were a tad heavier than they ought to be and without thinking, I shook them. Why? Why did I shake her pants, dear reader?? Of course you know what happened, don't you. The weightiness was all made perfectly clear as the rest of the LGBB's previous night's dinner *cough* flopped onto the floor at my feet.

I could have cried. But it was so funny, I almost whistled while I cleaned.

I am going mad with her here at home. Can you tell?

That voice

I was out with the LGBB minding my own business yesterday, going for a walk, when my phone rang.

"Hello, Kirrily, I'll bet you didn't expect to hear my voice," he said. It was Dr Luffley. And apart from the fact that I was finding it very difficult hearing his soft-spoken voice with cars going by, it was destined to be an uncomfortable conversation from the outset.

He told me he had the results. "It did have unbalanced chromosomes," he said. Just like that. I asked which ones and he told me it was irrelevant. I will have to politely but firmly remind him when I see him in person that it most certainly IS relevant. To me, as a mother needing to know as much as anybody, specifically certainly more than someone in a lab somewhere for whom my results did not mean anything other than something standing in the way of their lunch break, it absolutely positively is relevant. He needs to know that despite all my losses and my apparent flippancy in front of him - an error in my ways I am still finding the right balance with, depending on my audience - I will grieve the end of this baby's life along with all the others. That I have slightly more information to settle my niggling doubts that I ended a pregnancy only on an ultrasound's say so is a bonus. This time. Most of the time, I have not been so lucky to have it confirmed what is actually "wrong" with the foetus that it doesn't stay.

He tried to tell me as well that I didn't need to come and see him, really, for my six week post-op check up. See, I've been through this so many times now that I know the drill - the check up is mostly there to appease and ease the heart and mind of the newbie to miscarriage. Harsh but true. If you're as seasoned as me, apparently you don't need after care. I know the signs and I am intelligent enough to make a follow-up appointment if something necessitates it, say for instance if I am still in pain or still bleeding. Because I'm not and because he gave me my results over the phone, I think he thought that was all I needed.

I am still going in and he sounded surprised that I wanted to. When I asked him for the sex of the baby, he said that information was in the results but they weren't right in front of him at the moment. That's when I realised I was an in-passing call. He was actually in his car. I am not about to let him get away with giving me half-arsed information, it's not okay for me to leave it at his say-so that it was simply unbalanced. I want to know just how much it was and I want to know if that was the little boy I was sensing. I will eat my shoe if it was not a boy, I am telling you all right now.

Disappointed in my dear, beloved, well-trusted Ob this time :( I don't want to be but I am. I guess that's the price you pay for becoming a too-familiar face. I need to let him know this is something I am not okay with, I'll joke with someone and hope they are comfortable with me but this is a bit too comfortable for my liking. He hasn't crossed any boundaries, let me clarify, and I haven't found him unprofessional. I'm flattered in one respect that we are casual enough this far in to the journey together that he finds it acceptable to call me between dashes in his car. I just think he thought I'd be happy with that vague information.

I'm not. Have I made that clear? *tried to roar like a lioness but only a kittenish mew came out* Ok.... going now.

Girls' Day Out

See this here? This here is the face of a dog that infuriates me and makes me melt at the same time. She was my first very challenging entity in our family. And she remains rather insolent, spirited, joyous, expectant and yet unbroken by all the reprimanding (from us and from Mother Pepper - see the bite marks on her nose? I feel for her yet I know she probably asked for them because she does have a tendency to tease the old girl). She really is a naughty little shit and I love her, she's gorgeous.

And patient with the LGBB? Faultless. She and Jazz are pretty good chums. And mostly because Lolly pays out in crumbs and tidbits like Jazz never knew a person could....

I took the LGBB on a picnic on Monday. The picnic involved getting ready - "I cut sandich? I make sandich? I eatit?" - and then going the long way around to a park that is actually only five minutes from home. I had to do something to lengthen out my morning with Lol and with the weather so fine all of a sudden and that slightly warmer tinge to the air (God I love how Spring does that, like no other season, it can switch it on almost instantly, to the very day of the season change), I felt like taking my girls on a picnic. The picnic itself was dreamy enough for the LGBB. But when I suggested we take Jazz, she was positively levitating off the floor with excitement.

"We take Peppah? Peppah too?" she implored. But I had to explain that Pep would no sooner be out the gate with us than she'd be squaring up every bypasser and dog in their front yard and, frankly, I would rather she stay home and have a nice, stress-free old lady nap in the sunshine. Poor Pep. She has always been so dysfunctional in that way, socially I mean. Hands-down THE BEST companion dog I have ever had, but so bad with children and strangers. An awesome guard dog. Not really suited for family picnics though.....

So off we went on our five-minute-turned-1-hour round trip to the park. We started off by taking Jazz to see 'Cino Lady up the street and the LGBB was beside herself with glee that her friend with the waggy tail was coming to meet her beloved 'Cino Lady (who gives her extra marshmallows and chocolate freckles because Lolly is a bit of a fave in the coffee shop there).

And then we headed off on our picnic, some rather ominous afternoon clouds beginning to form and follow us.

It was okay, though, the weather kept at bay and I delighted in sitting back and just observing the LGBB enjoying the breeze and being outside with me and the dog. And Jazz enjoying catching whiffs on said breeze of Lolly's stras and egg salad sandwich.

The LGBB hasn't quite grasped yet that there is no turning back once you give a dog a morsel of your food. You have basically promised them the whole plate right there. I wanted to explain it was kind of like when Mummy and Daddy stupidly allowed Lolly to taste whatever it was they were eating, in the early days, when we sometimes did different meals for all of us but now we can't get away with it because as soon as she gets a taste, no matter if it's previously been something she hates, you can never tell when she'll decide it actually won't permanently scar her to eat it (like the tuna salad I had a few weeks back and thought I was safe eating in front of her because there was no WAY she would eat tuna.. or lettuce... and she pretty much ate the whole bowl and I let her because I thought, OMG, she's eating tuna.... and lettuce!!! as if she may never do it again so I might as well savour the moment and forego eating, and she ate it with this sly smile on her face, looking at me the entire time and I couldn't tell whether she was enjoying it or just enjoying taking food from my mouth.....).

There was a moment there where the LGBB did let Jazz have a taste, unbeknownst to me because I was looking at camera settings and gazing around at the lovely park, and then not more than a minute later, during a story about something or other that Lolly was relaying to her furry friend, an unsolicited taste of the portion of sandwich Lolly was holding ended up in Jazz's disbelieving mouth, she was so surprised she'd managed to score an entire triangle instead of a pissy crumb or two. And when I got home, I realised that despite how quick it had happened (so quick I couldn't stop Jazz), I had actually captured the moment on film. And I sat back and laughed my ass off just seeing the look on Jazz's face again. As it happened, I could see Jazz thinking she had two options: stop at that one taste or go for broke and just daintily remove the whole piece of bread from the kid's grasp, they'll only have to throw it out now anyway. It was like slow motion and yet it happened really quickly at the same time, and how is that? I have to hand it to her, she is a dog who, rather like Lol, knows what she wants and weighs up in an instant what will be so bad about any repercussions, if only she gets what she wants. See? To them, it's a bit of sacrifice for a win. And she's still eaten the forbidden bread. Ah. Forbidden food. The yummiest kind. Oh, who am I kidding? Jazz will eat anything. This is the dog who had to get her stomach pumped after eating some hard plastic bottle from our garage containing God-knows-what and slicing her oesophagus as she vomited the glass-like shards back up. What a turkey. The vet said, when I went to collect her from her weekend stint at the hospital, "Yup... typical Labrador, always chewing on something." And it's so true. Yesterday I caught her with my little glass jar of lip gloss, licking it like an ice cream on her outdoor bed. Bloody little shit, I told you she was!

They were thick as thieves, these two. And I delighted in seeing it so clearly right before my eyes. My little girls are growing up!

Smiles across the blanket