We Should All Wear The World Like A Loose Garment But It's Hard When You Keep Getting Dealt The Shittiest Cards In The Universe.

Hi I'm currently working on writing the biggest shit I've ever written in my life but I have to keep stopping because it's so full on even for me. All that's pushed to the side because my friend and her family is today dealing with the most horrific traumatic shit and she's all I can think about. Why do some people go through SO MUCH CRAP in their lives and other people ... well, other people jus don't seem to? I don't understand. Her trauma is so bad but she has to get through and she will because there is no other option. I'll go visit her in a few weeks after the hectic horrendous whirlwind of planning and people and flowers and all of the utter shit that comes with it is over and you're just left with the quiet. I'm the shittest shit of a friend in so many ways but man when trauma/crisis/horrendous life situations crop up for the people I love, I'm so good at helping people through it because I know and understand. Text my mum today .. "I tell you what mum, when our people go through serious shit .. how good are we to be there for them?" My mum came up to stay last week it was so good to see her.

I hate that my kids have a mother with bipolar disorder and I hate that I got diagnosed so late in my life after the mass confusion hell I caused and fuck yeah I'm taking all my meds but guess what it doesn't cure it. I understand so much now, I get the whole Jung/dark side/know yourself stuff but it's a little too late and I wouldn't speak to me either.

Wish I could talk to Carrie Fisher but she's part of the Force now. So today instead of crying for me I'm crying for my best friend and all the tumultuous mess ahead. Why are coffins so expensive when the silver handles are fake silver anyway? Death, like weddings .. are a rort. Waste of money. Easier to be like other cultures and burn our loved ones in a fiery pyre, all majestic-like.

I get through nights that I can't get through. I'm not going anywhere and neither is my gorgeous cookie friend. She's the Felix to my Oscar. Sent her a stupid video text today because I say all the right things to somebody who's going through all the wrong things. Told her I didn't know which one of us holds the Most Fucked Traumatic Shit Family Gold Cup .. it's probably a tie. Which is saying something.

Nevertheless, we all persisted. One day we will all be free. It's Sunday and this binge-watching of Shameless isn't going to watch itself now is it? Some days we're out there conquering the world, some days we sit at home on the couch pretending we're part of the couch because couches don't feel. I'd still prefer to feel than be numb or robotic or asleep like a lot of people. No shade - I'm just woke. I prefer my people woke with a side of fucked and a chaser of custard tart.

Hold on, people who realise you need to hold on. It'll all end eventually, isn't that relieving?

My cookie staunch girl, you been there for me so much these past few years I'm so, so glad I'm here for you now. I'm right here, soon I'll be right there next to you wearing grey hoodies on the couch again. Go to bed your soul is exhausted. You got this, and when you don't ... which you won't .. I got it for you. Watch this shit - you're Yelawolf because obviously I'm Eminem but we both got Proof.

PS LIFE IS SO FUCKING INANE AND CONFUSING AND STUPID.

Dreaming In Colour.

Anyway.

I'm well - a deep well, as nan used to say. Nothing much happening, really. Except everything. Yesterday I was telling Rocco about Catholic confessional booths and he said it was the stupidest idea he'd ever heard. I agreed. And wondered why I use this site as my confessional booth .. the Catholic is strong, in this one. I gave up lent for lent.

We did ephemeral art and I don't even know what the word ephemeral is, I just know I'm using it in the right context.

Have you ever realised how incredible nature actually is? When this guy is with me he makes me look at rocks and caterpillars and berries and ferns. And birdshit on the sidewalk. The other day we were walking up Katoomba Street and he shouts MUM LOOK AT THAT DOGS BALLS. Swear to god, I have never seen dogs balls like I saw the set of balls on that dog that day. Humungous .. like baby pigeons. I had to look away.

Somebody told me recently to keep apologising but I'm not. I've finished apologising. You keep saying sorry long enough and it loses its meaning. And I'm not sorry anymore.

Every second week Roc is here with me and messes the place up so bad. It's so good. I love cleaning up after his mess. He taught me how to do paper bangers - pro tip: if you thought bottle flipping was bad, DO NOT get your kid to do paper bangers. You fold a piece of paper kind of like a paper aeroplane and whoosh it down and it's so fucking noisy I eventually banned it from inside so he had to go outside to paperbang. We've watched a movie every night for three night straight. He sets up the pillows and blankets on the floor and I man the controls. HIGHLY recommend the new Bill Murray film, St Vincent.

A lot of people are asking me if I'm ok because I've been quiet on social media. I am ok, it's just that social media has eaten itself. So has the world. And there's mothers on instagram tagging fifty fucking brands on photos of their newborn babies while babies are dying of hunger across the globe. And everybody's highlight reels have shit me so bad I put my phone away. Too much noise out there, when I'm concentrating on things in here. Not long after I turned 40 back in 2012,  I was really, really sick. So sick for days, laying in bed. I was so worried because I was due to fly out to Africa the next week for World Vision. So I thought I'd go for a long walk .. some people tend to think a long walk fixes everything so I gave it a go. Halfway through, it dawned on me that I had a kidney infection. Don't know how or why I knew but I just did. As soon as I got home I drove to hospital and they put a canula in for fluids and antibiotics, said it was a kidney infection.

I won't go into it that much but these past few months have been so low, so dark, and so fucking horrendous I can't even. Scary thing most of all was, I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know what was "wrong" ... like, I'm an expert on degrees of fuckedness but have never experienced such utter nothing, horrendous flashbacks of bad also good things that have happened in my life - it just all hit me at once and I wasn't living properly. Then one day I realised I was experiencing severe post traumatic stress of the highest order. I didn't need to get my doc to confirm it - it was like a kidney infection of the brain. And ever since I realised, it's abated. And I know this whole life of mine has been a series of shit, overcoming shit, more shit, overcoming that, etc. This time it's different.

Last week I dreamt that I was walking around rooms in this house and there was every single colour painted on the walls. Houses signify ourselves in our dreams so I was dreaming of fresh new colour in me and woke up with a smile on my face.

Living in Roccoland definitely helps, too. Both me and him.

Today we both went to the library. We both didn't want to but he has a speech due this week based on the book "My Place" and I had to write stuff and print out all this shit it was SO BORING. While I was navigating the dewey decimal system and failing miserably, I turned around to find him innocently on top of this like that scene in Poltergeist where the mother walks out of the kitchen for a second and when she comes back in all the chairs are just piled high on top of the table.

He tells me he loves being with me because I help make his bad feelings go away. He asks me do I miss being a kid. He reckons he loves me more than I love him - impossible.

He does shit like suddenly walk out to me like this with a pokerface, asking me what's so funny after making himself a bowtie out of leftover paperbanging paper. And sticking it to his t-shirt with blu-tak.

We finished his speech. (And by "we" I mean "I." Wonder what mark I'll get? One of the perks of having a writer as a mother.) He just has to practice giving the class confident eye contact as he delivers it.

So, yeah. I been real ok. I mean it's not like I went to jail or anything. Hey you know the biggest jails are our minds? I turn 45 next week and I'm just realising how powerful our brains are. A lot of brains need reprogramming. Rebooting. Restarting. NOT A TOTAL SHUTDOWN - just give it a rest, for a while.

Here's me irl right now. I finally worked out how to do my hair properly - thick conditioning treatment after your regular shampoo. And straighten it with proper straighteners. And chuck some eyeliner on haphazardly. Trim your fringe. Change your clothes. Cut your losses. Forgive yourself. Do no harm, take no shit ... but let it go.

My car is in the mechanics at the moment because I fucked my clutch. I either clutched too much or not enough, hard to know what to clutch on to. Last night I dreamt I drove all the way across to Western Australia. I've never been there before .. but it was beautiful. You know how dreams don't make sense? Well on one side was Antarctica with polar bears and the other side was the desert scene from Breaking Bad and then the last side was this lush green rainforest. I stood behind myself, watched me looking at all the scenery (my hair looked AMAZING) ... and then I realised I had to quickly get back to the mountains to see my kids. In my dream my car was working but I didn't have a GPS but it was ok. Because I knew my way back home.