Tuesday, 19 October 2010

Why I Blog Like a Trapped Chilean Miner

I want to know what happened in the first seventeen days.

Will the real story of the Chilean miners ever be told? The dark parts - the parts glossed over with pacts and a "what happens in the mine, stays in the mine" mentality? There have been claims the men came to blows. Some were too depressed to leave their beds, others quietly thought of cannibalism. In the first seventeen days, the men didn't know if there was any hope of a rescue. They broke into three groups, with fist fights common.

I would love to know the dark parts. I need to know all the murky parts in life. Tell me your darkest dark .... and I'll tell you mine. What happened? What did you think? How did you overcome it?

I'm realising I blog like a trapped Chilean miner ... in the first seventeen days. It was years into blogging that I first heard the term, "naked blogger."

Oh great, I remember thinking. Now I'll have to delete my whole blog.

No - I just went public instead.


I could tell you about the wonderful weekend we had, driving down to Leichardt for pasta and gelato and then having our first swim at the beach for this season. We laughed, drank coffees .... a certain someone in particular ate every morsel of his ice cream.

..... if my blog were candy coated, I wouldn't tell you about the argument I had with my husband in Crystal carwash, when he made me so cranky I punched him square in the middle of his left arse cheek. (Because he called me pathetic. Which I was *totally* being, but I wouldn't tell you that either!)

I'd tell you how blue the sky was, how great it felt to be alive in that sun in that very minute. How I love these guys, and pray I'm bringing them up as responsible, caring human beings.

As I apologised to my husband later that night, I wondered if there was anybody else in the world who would punch their husbands in the butt. As hard as they could, but it didn't hurt anyway. Because it was his BUTT.

I decided there is - just not everybody blogs it.


  1. I do! Well not just his butt but various other parts as well!

    We play fight though....

    I remember when Guvnor and I got together. He's an ex rugby man, a biker and all round rough and tough guy, hence even his "lightest punch" hurt like hell - he used to call me soft.

    Then as we start to routinely play fight, I became tougher and his punches stopped hurt [as much] and to his own peril - he taught me how to punch correctly...mwhahahahaha foolish man!

    I can now punch him and it hurts!!

    Tonight, in honour of you, I'm going to go and punch Guvnor in the butt - he'll probably do something to deserve it - like refusing to do the dishes by saying he doesn't know where the kitchen sink is - so fear not it won't be unprovoked violence!!


    p.s LOVE that pic on the beach!


  2. I usually punch my husband in the arm and then he calls me abusive. Then I tell him he's lucky that's all I did. He's very aggravating.

    I'm not much for putting it all out there, but that's only because I like to keep it shallow all the time. :)

  3. ME ME ME ME ME!!! Whenever I punch his butt, I always get the sarcastic response, "Did you hurt your hand?" That just makes me want to punch the other cheek even harder. Unfortunately, I know I'd get the same response AND no relief.

  4. Why on EARTH did you chose the bum as a punching bag? That's like trying to hurt your fist. Silly woman. (I aim for the chest. And he makes me so angry sometimes I want to slap his face. So sometimes I do. I try not to)

  5. omg..sudden homesickness..is that bondi? can't remember...bronte? i can just smell that beach and the sunscreen (it smells different in oz:)

  6. You are so right - not just everyone blogs about it.

    Some of the most hurtful, angry things I've gone through are usually the last things I blog about. I'm not sure why. I guess maybe I need to feel like I can get to the other side before I can talk about it. Maybe like if I'm in the darkness, talking about it will make the darkness swallow me.

    I love the beach pic! You've got some devilish handsome boys on your hands . . .

  7. Ah, someone who blogs about the honest underbelly of life. I'm in love!


Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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