Monday, 3 October 2016

Straight Truth, On The Rocks.

Yeah I'll be quick. I'm writing this one because I was privy to a conversation the other day in where I butted in because sometimes we have to be a buttinski when we feel it's necessary.

Some twenty-somethings were talking about just general shit which I found boring because I'm old enough to be their mother ... and then this young girl came out with how much anxiety and pain she was in, every day, all the time, found it hard to leave her house, depressed, sometimes wanted to die. My ears perked UP ... especially when this one loudmouth guy-friend of hers demanded to know why she'd never spoke about this before. (I'm assuming she spoke about it because I was speaking about it quite freely and matter-of-factly, these subjects roll off my tongue.)

She was really embarrassed and tried to backtrack. The guy-friend of hers completely had no idea or empathy of where she was at, I'm not even judging him about it but it was FASCINATING how he didn't have one shred of understanding. He told her to just don't think that way. He told her to get up and eat well and go for a run ... at this point I actually put my hand up to him and said "Dude, you don't know what you're talking about. No offence, but shush, be quiet. Let her finish." He wasn't even insulted because he was young, very good-looking, arrogant, and completely self-centred why the hell would he give a shit about what some 40-something year old mother said to him.

So there's this beautiful young girl spilling out some shit - only some, she was holding a lot back I could tell. Her family history of mental health stuff that has affected her greatly, her very intelligent views on the world and how hopeless it can be. I didn't even know her and I wanted to hug her, told her I understood everything of what she'd just said. Young dumb full of come guy's fuckwittery then hit a new level. "Just stop it." He told her to just stop it, like it was that easy.

I did crack the shits then. "Mate it must feel so good to be you and not have to deal with all this stuff that she's talking about right now but you seriously have no idea what the fuck you're talking about. This is serious shit - and I'm sure you have your own serious shit you go through in life but this is her serious shit and you're blowing it off and shutting her down and making her feel bad. Nobody can tell anybody else what to feel." 

I didn't spend much more time with them after that, except to ask her to step outside with me. I showed her some of my slam poems. Showed her other peoples slam poems, websites that might help, other humans going through the same thing she was. "Honey it feels like you're alone. You're not alone." Told her about my psychiatric admissions. Told her about my sons. I told her so much stuff but when I told her about the struggle my brother went through, she broke down. But a good breakdown - not all breakdowns are bad in fact most are entirely needed. She thanked me so much but I didn't even do anything, except tell her a bit of truth straight up, truth on the rocks about being on the rocks.

She walked back inside to the gallery but I didn't, that was enough people for me. I walked home in the ICY ICY COLD OF KATOOMBA STREET I'VE BEEN SO GOOD AT NOT COMPLAINING ABOUT THE COLD THIS YEAR BUT WINTER, YOUR TIME HAS EXPIRED.


So that's that. I didn't even catch this chicks name but I hope she gets through it all ok, I've thought about her for days. Just want her know she's not alone.

It's a Monday on a long weekend and here is me in real life right now:

I fucking well ran out of my antidepressants a few days ago like an idiot. The zapping made me walk up to the chemist where they know me quite well, same meds different days. Got my bipolar meds and anti-depressant meds filled and while I was sitting there waiting, TWO rude customers came in. The first guy was whining like a little kid, telling the chemist he's eating two sheets of Strepsils a day and his throat is STILL SORE. Like it's the chemists fault. I was disdainful and judgy. The chemist was very polite but he looked over at me looking disdainfully and gave me a half-smile. Then this older lady comes in wanting some script for some shit and she was so, so rude. Why? Because her script came in a different packaging. "UGH, this is not the SAME." Both chemist assistants assured her it was the exact same, just different packaging. She argued. Then waved her hand said "Fine, fill it then. I'll come back."

I started laughing before she'd even walked out because she was just so rude. Being the only person in the whole chemist, I addressed all the staff loudly.

"You guys, on behalf of all the arsehole customers I'd like to thank you for all of your hard work today."

Man we all laughed so hard. One of them said "Yep, it's the out-of-towners on a long weekend that give us the most grief."

When I paid I had to pay full price regardless of my health-care card because I need some kind of Special Authorisation from my professor/doctor. FUCK. Getting help is so expensive. I've thought seriously lately about going off all of my medications, being a member of a program that promotes complete abstinence kind of skews my feelings around being medicated but at this point I know I need to stay medicated. Because if this is what I feel medicated, heaven help me when I'm not medicated.

That's the end of this entry. Except to say the tampons I bought exclaim on the pack "NEW Anti-Fluff Base!" Which part of a tampon is the base? And so all this time of periods I've been using fluffy tampons? Bring on the menopause apocalypse, is what I reckon.

Here's the song de jour, rattling around my head today. Laters. xxx

(I'm so sorry but the comments to my blog are still turned off and I don't know why they just are.)

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