Tuesday, 13 November 2018

If All The Lonely People Came Together Then We Wouldn't Be Lonely Anymore Don't You Think?

Ever realised how SO uncool to admit how lonely you are? I'm lonely! And yes I'm embarrassed at being lonely but it's the truth.

If I ever ask someone if they get lonely they say no .. why is that? Is it such an embarrassment? I get lonely as HELL .. especially at night when I want to just, watch tv or netflix with somebody. At night time in bed I'd just like to spoon to make me feel .. connected or loved or something. I'm not talking one iota about sex, just the thing of someone shouting out "do you want parmesan on your spaghetti" during the ad of some dumb show that does nothing to improve anyones minds. Not every moment has to be all spiritual and shit, or Einsteiny. Just the act of doing mindless stuff with another person instead of by yourself ... helps the sound of the world crying.

I feast on meaningful stuff too, yesterday my mum reminded me it was six years ago exactly that I flew to India for World Vision  (I truly need to get my comment system back up and working .. I only paused it because of negative and mean comments which I could not care less about anymore, ever.)



This was meeting our family's sponsor child, Rashni. She was three here, back in 2012 - now she's ten. Exactly the same as Rocco - they were born three days apart and I purposely chose a girl the same age as him, watching his face as he read her progress report last week was just .. humbling. He had so many questions and he really wants to meet her too.


This pic was taken back in 2014 - after my brother died but before everything in my family's life imploded oh my god look at my sons. Look at them #truelove


Me and Rocco the other night after the HUGE house inspection. Which the owner attended. Roc (otherwise known as vacuumer of the century) has weaned himself off Fortnite and I'm so proud. We've gone back to playing Dumb Ways to Die together on my phone at bedtime, thing is I get really, really offended when he laughs at my poor playing skills. So then he's trying extra-hard not to laugh. It's so hard for me to not laugh at him trying not to laugh.


I'M TRYING SO HARD. ALL THIS TIME AND I DIDN'T GIVE UP! I *know* I have work to do and I pray, a lot. I don't pray for help - I pray for the strength to be given to me for what I need to do. Despite being brought up Catholic I still believe in truth and good, love and BRIGHT LIGHT. Laugh at the devil and he shall flee. Ha.


Ok I don't know WHY my photos have suddenly gone all blurry on here lately but this is me today.  Hopefully I look ok. I hope I continually believe I'll get through (because of you, oh so grateful .. S0 grateful I'm not sure you understand. Yes I will email you if I haven't already. You changed my life.)

I guess that's it for now, beautiful people. I did say a post a day but going through a medication change for the first time in a LONG TIME does not make a great blog post every single day OR maybe it does, hahahaha!!!! (You'd call the men in white coats immediately and fuck that - I'll get through this. I been through worse. I been through better. Why does life seem easier for others there's no answer Eden stop asking that question.)

In conclusion if you want to go out on a date or something email me edenriley@gmail.com KIDDING, OBVIOUSLY!!! Heh.

No come on we've all got this, living in a hard scary world run by dictators. I applaud you for still being here! And guess what we don't even have to be lonely anymore ....  ready?





 Goodnight beautiful people. I love you. And I mean it. xxxx


Friday, 9 November 2018

Laughter, and Other Medicines.

Hey when I was a kid I used to get chocolate eclairs from the bakery ...  sometimes I'd mix it up because I do like a baked good but often I'd walk up to the counter and say:

"Hello, may I please have a chocolate eclair."

All of those years I had it wrong and nobody noticed that I was actually saying:

"Hello, may I please have a chocolaty Clare." 

I'm telling you this story because I was telling it to somebody yesterday and we just basically collapsed with laughing. Literally, standing outside on the forecourt down from Katoomba Library next to Big Beet Cafe we laughed so hard. We were just laughing so hard.  We scared all the pigeons away ... my friend had to find a seat to sit on while she laughed or she would have ended up on the concrete and all I'll say about me is that I finally understand the need for pelvic floor exercises, thank good I was wearing black leggings. Wow.

We had other people laughing just because we were laughing. They didn't even know the story, they were just laughing at us laughing because they knew we couldn't stop and mainly because laughing contagious.

Chocolaty Clares .. who knew? Maybe I thought they were invented by somebody called Clare but the point here is that it wasn't just that we were laughing at ... prior to the Clare story my friend and I had been catching up on each others lives not just a shallow glib five minute job it was a full-on nitty gritty hard heavy shit conversation, we hadn't seen each other in years. We met in Westmount Rehab back in 1998 - TWENTY years ago. She didn't even know Rocco existed, I didn't know shed been to jail then fully straightened out her life. So proud when people conquear themselves - hey what's that saying:

"It is better to conquer yourself than win a thousand battles." - Buddha (I just googled it.)

Here's a truth - I've been too scared to write here. What am I supposed to say, after what you've done for me? How can I possibly, ever ever repay you? I'm going through and writing thank-you's, slower than I would like but they're real proper thank-you's like I mean it because I MEAN IT like how can you just give and save me like that? You have - you've saved me. I'm so far ahead in my rent. I'm in negotiations with my energy provider. I don't dread opening the mail, I've stopped crying walking down the street and as embarrassing, mortifying, shameful it was for me to ask you for help I really was stuck in a dark place which I'd still be (or worse) .. had you not heeded my call for help. Did I use the word "heed" in the proper context? Probably - I won't check I'll trust myself because I usually get it instinctively right with words - words are my jam but the past week and a bit they're not my jam they been my bread and butter and I've never ever felt so humbled, grateful, blessed, uncomfortable, amazed in my whole life.

Some of you have sent me messages that just ... I had no idea you loved (and needed) to read my words so much. That's a huge call and that's when I became so overwhelmed by thinking I needed to write incredibly grand, meaningful, deep blog posts all the time every day but thing is ... I CAN'T! This is just me and this is how I say stuff which is probably what grew it anyway. Goddamn that laugh yesterday was just ... a massive circuit breaker. Laughter really is medicine. I laughed all the dark and heavy and the worry away - very especially needed, right in the middle of med-change week UGGHHH.

I'm still very, very scared .. I still wake up crying. Or if I don't, I start crying on my stumble into the kitchen to turn the kettle on. Still crying as I'm doing my morning wee - when I wash my face I never look into the mirror.

BUT: you have taken the biggest weight off my shoulders. Your emails and help have made me release how far and wide my words have gone like it's own little breadcrumb trail except this time, you've fed me. Thanks for replacing my apathy with inspiration, my dark for light ...  my yuck for some heartshine.

For the first time in years - and years - you circled your wagons and for the first time in years - and years - you've reminded me of who I am. I'm ok. I'm not a pathetic loser because I'm still trying.

What a gift. I just an't say thank you enough and from here on in I'll just keep writing here the way I always have. With irreverence, humour, glimpses of dark (but not too much to scare you!) the odd swear word, anger, pain, joy .. all of it I guess. All those real human things that we've all got deep down inside all of us.


Tuesday, 6 November 2018

Carrie Fisher: Our Beloved Patron Saint of Bipolar (and Just General Mental Fuckedness.)



One of the best things I have ever read is Carrie Fisher saying this in one of her memoirs called "Wishful Drinking."

“I thought I would inaugurate a Bipolar Pride Day. You know, with floats and parades and stuff! On the floats we would get the depressives, and they wouldn’t even have to leave their beds - we’d just roll their beds out of their houses, and they could continue staring off miserably into space. And then for the manics, we’d have the manic marching band with manics laughing and talking and shopping and fucking and making bad judgment calls.” 

Heavens above I MISS her! Irreplaceable. I'm pretty sure she meant having a Bipolar Pride Day like that ... I'd much prefer being manic than depressive but that's the thing with us folk, you don't get to choose. Just his morning I woke up absolutely full crying, which keeps happening more times lately than I'd like to admit.

Often the sound of my weeping wakes me up in the middle of the night. It's so awful and has never happened to me before EVER and it's going to keep happening until ... it won't happen any more.

That's what I'm holding out for and thats exactly what's going to happen, especially with the help of trailblazers like Carrie Fisher

Life is still going to be hard but after my med changes and consistently seeing my trauma therapist then yes. Things can only get better,

The more I still read about Carrie and her legacy, the more I realise she was a very, very rare Soul. Talking about things we're not supposed to talk about saves our lives. Period.







Monday, 5 November 2018

Richer Than We Think.




There's millions more good souls than bad souls in the world, the bad ones just tend to get all the press. Apparently the planet is going through huge turmoil but hasn't it always? One thing is true - more and more people (especially young people) - are becoming woke.

The Urban Dictionary's definition of woke:
Although an incorrect tense of awake, "woke" is a reference to how people should be aware in current affairs. 
"While you are obsessing with the Kardashians, there are millions of homeless in the world. STAY WOKE."

My sons are woke #proudmummymoment

Rocco arrived safely back from camp last Friday - he only lost his toothbrush, hat, sleeping bag cover, thongs, and pyjamas. I'll call that a win - not even kidding. He was beyond tired that before we'd even got into the car we had an altercation. He wanted his friend to sleep over NOW. I said "Mate I've already got one cranky, tired and hungry guy who needs a shower. Why would I want two?" (It was a very quiet trip home.)

Back to his dads today - hate changeover days but just like my Uncle Stevie says, it is what it is. Frankly I'm a bit relieved Roc won't be here this week because I'm getting my bipolar meds changed up for the first time in THREE YEARS. I don't want to but I have to - I need to.

I aways put if off because when I first got properly diagnosed back in 2012, the psychiatrists were changing my meds every second week, sometimes every week. It fucked with my already-fucked head SO BADLY it seemed the world was upside down. At that time I took anything they told me to, no questions asked. I put on so much weight that people would routinely ask my due date. YEAH that really went down well with me .. I'd literally pull up my top, squish my fat fatty flesh with my fingers and tell them oh no I was't pregnant I was straight out of the psych ward and the meds have made me look like I'm having triplets! I did this to make fun of it but mainly to shame the person who asked because YOU NEVER ASK A WOMAN IF SHE'S PREGNANT unless you can see the baby's head crowning.

My weekend was spent a tad more anxious than I'd like, lots of pacing, head-racing. I'd like to point out at this juncture that no matter how badly I feel ... both of my sons are looked after impeccably. To the point where one of them said "Wow mum, you really make me feel special." Told him he IS special. I called my other guy in for dinner, he said he felt like a King.

                                                     I told him he IS a King.

    I had to get a new cupcake tin because ....  I haven't baked muffins (or hardly anything) since 2014.

My famous half-baked choc-chip cookies so they remain chewy ... Max's mates are blown away by them #stillgotit


                             We all like our chops well-done so no, I didn't burn them!


Ok beautiful lovers, back to emailing my thank-you's oh lord I am so grateful and feel protected!!

(Guess what I just proof-read this post because my fake nails make my typing gibberish lately .. and in it I've just casually mentioned bipolar medication, psych wards, cupcakes and parenting. All in there together, like, it's normal or something?!) #fuckstigma

Hey I wish I could cook for you. A huge vat of that paella stuff - I've never made it but it always looks like it could feed hundreds of people. I'd cook it at a get-together at Wentworth Falls lake and serve it with iced lemon, lime, and bitters. All of us sitting on the #magicrug .. which is magic so obviously it'd fit us all on.

No toy (or human) gets left behind.



Friday, 2 November 2018

You Could Always Touch A Stranger But Not In A Creepy Way

I don't have anything to write about because what I've truthfully got to write about is too much, too dark and too scary. Even for me. I'm scared. Just really really scared, even with my emergency Valium which I rarely get. My GP knows that when I need Valium, I really need the hell out of that Valium. I've never, ever abused it either. When I go for like, 5 months without it .. my GP is just as proud as  am.

When I walk into my emergency appointment that I've begged for (usually on a Friday, for some reason it always seems to be a Friday.) I'm a jittery, shaking, choke-crying clothes-worn-every-day for probs three days in a row but still I'm PROUD of myself for not asking for those relieving little benzos for a whole five months! My GP and I both know that I live with chronic utterly raging horrendous anxiety and mostly get through those "attacks" without the Vals.

BUT: when I need them, I know I need them now.

I've never doctor-shopped even though I'm a very convincing straighty-one-eighty with the glasses and intelligence to boot. The last time I took drugs was horrendous and I really hope it's the last time I take drugs ever ever. There but for the grace. Just for today. The only reason I would at this point would be to make the pain go away but like the song says, the drugs don't work they just make you worse so you wake up the next day feeling WORSE than you did before you took the drugs. And the lying and the hiding and dishonesty I can't do anymore. Plus I have people to be the best I can be for.

I've been alone/lonely before but not like this. I'm not even going to describe it which obviously I could, pretty well. Human beings aren't rocks or islands and we shouldn't be left alone very much at all. It's frustrating, not being able to talk to people when I see them. Declining invitations and just .. not engage socially. Sometimes for a very long time. Tumbleweeds run through my heart, the ache that other people and their kinship and laughter could only fill. Telling people straight up "I have difficulty maintaining friendships" and they say it's ok, they understand and they won't give up then - they give up and the "blame" of that lies on me. I'm too much, I get it. But still - owie.

I don't always walk around the house with a crumpled face and bereft everything ... sometimes I do it in supermarkets too HA! I've had complete strangers walk up to me and ask if I need a hug, no shit. And we've just weirdly hugged as if it's not weird and I tell them thanks and we move on in our respective lives most likely to never cross paths again .... but that four second awkward change with another human being? Strangely soothing.

The last time someone touched me (except for when I hug and kiss my kids) was the lady who did my nails a few weeks ago. She was having problems with this one articular pinky of mine and she kind of massaged it or something and I just remembered thinking jeez that feels nice. Just that human contact.

I've had a handful of "interludes" with a few guys in the past few years and every single one of them - every, single, one ... have been arrogant, entitled, overbearing and controlling.

No, no, no, and no. Never again.

::

Considering the complete outpouring of love and kindness I have received this past week with a LOT of people helping me, sending me love (and meaning it, wow.) People whose names I don't recognise but you have all pitched in, and helped me, given me actual peace of min, oh I am slowly getting through contacting and thanking every body for the help they have given me - it's too important not to. My rent is so very paid well in advance. My bills got paid and we had lamb cutlets. Yes it was one of the most embarrassing things I've ever had to do in my life but SO many of you made me feel ok about asking, like that book that was recommended, Amanda Palmer's "The Art of Asking." You right there reading me for years gave me the one biggest most precious and important thing I've ever received in my life:

You reminded me who I am.

YOU REMINDED ME OF WHO I AM.

Now that is something I can never repay to you - except maybe some of you who've read this tonight and might be just as lonely as me so I've made you feel not alone and if I've done that, well, I'm not alone either. There's a darkness in a lot of us earthlings that want to make us isolated, alone, misunderstood, mortified with shyness. How do you deal with it? (Mental note - fix my comment system so you beauties can comment again.)

I deal with it by hugging strangers who feel sorry for me when I'm crying in the cleaning products at the shops.

Hey - it's a start. I have no time or energy to be proud anymore.

Nite. xxx




Thursday, 1 November 2018

His First Camp, My Last Camp.


My youngest set off to camp yesterday!




We packed literally at the eleventh hour the night before (well, I did.) He crashed out legs askew on the couch after two episodes of Fresh Prince of Bel Air, the latest Netflix show we watch together. I've never see it before, it's quite funny - nice and clean and innocent, you know? No swearing or overt sexuality ... these days you see your kids watching a cartoon and think ok that's cool and then find out how utterly filthy it is. I'm not even being a prude, these shows make Southpark look like the Brady Bunch. I was a fan of Ren and Stimpy back in the day (remember one of them fell in love with their fart and wanted to marry it - yes that was a bit off but nothing like now.)

Rocco and his friends are *right* on the cusp of wanting to get facebook and instagram, makes my heart sink a little because they're still young and fresh and innocent when it comes to memes and hashtags and the cluttered debris of the internet. It changes them, I've seen it happen with all my kids as they grow up. It's overloading and too big for little humans minds.

Yeah the internet is great for information and knowledge, the speed of news, education, etc ... but it scares the absolute shit out of me so I choose to still stay on the internet. In it.. like a silent subversive hall monitor. Until the big blackout comes and everybody buys walkie talkies, cases of water, grabs their dogs and kids and go live someplace quiet and beautiful, plant things, live off the land.

Maybe that's how we are supposed to live all along.

I'm standing there at Rocco's school early yesterday morning  and there were excited little faces every direction you turned. It's a rite-of-passage, your first school camp. Mine was back in 1983 at Bundeena where I full pashed a boy for the first time. It was so disgusting I spent the rest of the camp ignoring him. So much spit! Sorry Rodney.

There's this other thing I've done since all my children have gone through their schools. I wait at assembly, or look around at concerts or special days ands look at all those precious kids doing what they do: jostling, faux fighting, laughing at things that aren't funny but then I always look past that, try to read their faces if they are ok. How's things at home? Is there violence, are they getting enough food and attention and love. I worry about and for them, if they're dragging their feet or running carefree. Sounds weird but I do say a prayer for them (in my mind not out loud, ha.)

Like one of my own sons said to me back when he was in year 6, "Mum I would HATE to be gay."

When I asked why he said that, he simply answered with such a truth it made me tear up. "Because you'h have to hide it."

Can't wake to pick him up tomorrow afternoon. They're all going to be a huge bunch of overtired, stinky, possibly a bit sunburnt bunch of beautiful children, pouring off the bus with legendary camp stories. They've tasted freedom from their parents for possibly the first time in their lives, instead experiencing living with their peers for three days in a row. No funny GIPH or newest You Tube video or choosing a new team in Fortnite ... just real and good and funny old-fashioned FUN.




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