I found it

I'm a fan of the Sex in the City Movie. Four independent, fabulous women living life the way they want to and having sex the way they want to. Inspiring! I too love the SATC movie although for most of it, our main heroine is broken, sad, hollow. At one point, she wonders if she'll ever laugh again. And her dear friend Miranda explains that she will. When someone really funny happens.

Yesterday someone really UNfunny happened. But I laughed.

Coparent and I have come up against some really big, dramatic moments in our lives. Some of them good and some of them devastating. We've agreed that one positive these experiences have given us is that we rarely 'sweat the small stuff' any longer. We're really quick to recognise that there are some things we can't control, and there are some things that while frustrating, aren't worth losing our mental facilities over. Yesterday was such a day.

I was in training all day yesterday. Coparent txt me to say please call but my phone battery was running low and through txts he assured me it wasn't urgent. I left at 2:30pm (can I say, I LUUURVE training!). At 2:45pm my car broke down on the motorway. Yes, in the MIDDLE lane. I slowly limped to the side with a truck helping to block traffic. God bless truckies.

My mobile was low in battery. I tried but the car wouldn't move safely while more trucks were whizzing past at over the 110km/hr speed limit. So I walked, along the freeway to the emergency phone thinking 'Ok, the plan is to NOT DIE'. After finding the phone off the hook and trying to figure out how to work it, I got on to someone who assured me they knew where I was and would send help. I trudged back to the car, then dutifully stood behind the guard rail, waiting for help.

I thought (on the off chance that I was about to be squished to death) that I should let Coparent know. I sent him a text: "Car has died. On the motorway. RACQ on the way. Am ok. Fuck".

Being the lovely coparent he is, he rang me immediately. I explained that my mobile battery was flat and he let slip that he was at home. At around 3pm. Odd. When I asked, it turned out that he'd had a car accident that morning and our other car wasn't drivable. There I was, standing on the side of the motorway, phone to my ear, laughing. And swearing. And laughing. Because the chances of two cars dying on the same day? Who does that happen to? Oh us. Of course.

This was quickly followed by my phone dying mid sentence.
Being towed back to where I'd started my journey from.
Having to wait around 2 hours before help arrived.
Becomming frustrated because by that time I knew it was just a tyre which I know how to change myself but also knew if I lifted the damn thing I'd end up in hospital.
Driving home at around 70km/hr on the motorway because I no longer trusted the car and pissing off EVERY driver behind me!

And in the end? None of it mattered. It was still UNfunny. And I still laughed.

I'm sorry you were in an accident Coparent. I'm so glad you weren't hurt. I'm peeved we're going to have to spend money on a new car, particularly as the driver that hit you was driving an unregistered vehicle.

But I thank you for helping me find my laugh.

Pfft

Saying they're sorry for everything and that they're wanting to explain doesn't really cut it when they choose not to follow through.

What it does do is fuck me up for yet another night. Which I don't need. Not right now.

I'm barely making it to work every day. I'm lucky in that I have years of perfecting my 'game face'. I can go to work and teach and almost seem 'normal'. Almost. Only those who know me really well could tell that I don't feel I'm in the same reality at the moment.

If you're going to 'explain' then do it. Don't continue to fuck me over with more false promises and lies.

Schemas

Many moons ago when I was in the BCPND (aka Lovely Loony Bin / LLB) I had psychological testing done in an effort to help me understand myself and my thinking habits a little more. The theory being, that if you understand your negative thinking, you can change it. It's a theory.

One of these tests investigated what schemas or thought patterns I had lurking around in this slightly-off-centre brain of mine.

Anyway, I had two stays in the LLB and both times the same testing was done. The same results came back. Suggesting not only did I have these schemas, but that they were damn persistent little buggers as well.

My main schemas which attract problems are core beliefs that I hold to be true. They may not be. But in my brain they are. When I have experiences that support them, they are reinforced. When I have experiences that negate them . . .well I don't seem to see them often because I can't remember any!

My schemas?

That people are basically dishonest and will always lie.
That people will always leave.

This week someone very close to me, someone who knew exactly all about my warped thinking patterns (and of course, in a big fat lie said that he would prove me wrong because he would never lie or leave) decided to throw away 20+ years of friendship, partnership, love (and lust!) to be with someone he's known a few weeks.

So yet again, here's to you negative schemas. I'm right. People are basically dishonest and will always lie. People will always leave. You can support them, love them, be loyal to them, travel to different parts of the country to try to help them, show them tough love and show them loyal love, and they will still leave.

When they say they won't, they're lying. When they tell you over and over again how much they love you, how there will never be any one else, how they wake up each morning and firstly think of you, how you have always been number one and always will be, they are lying.

Because people are basically dishonest and will always lie.
And people will always leave.

A thousand tears

It feels as though my world fell apart yesterday. Fell apart is too happy a term though. Was destroyed? Demolished? I can't quite find the words.

Yet at the same time, life goes on. I just don't feel part of it anymore.

I'm sure I'll blog more on this. I have 20+ years of emotion invested in what has both crumbled slowly over time and suddenly disintegrated.

If you see me IRL, please don't be nice. Please don't talk about it or acknowledge that my smile may not be as wide. That my eyes don't have any sparkle. That maybe I look a little 'off'. I have a very thin facade that will crumble to show how hollow I am. Do not touch me or hug me. Because I'm raw and it feels as though I've been scrubbed inside and out with a wire brush and bathed in acid.

I am resilient.

Aren't I?

Nothing's changed.

Really.

It never does.

They bring me flowers

Lately the boys have been so very sweet.

They bring me their artwork in chubby, proud, little hands.

They bring me cuddles and smoochy kisses. Usually with food-covered faces but always with big smiles.

And this week, they've brought me flowers. A sprig of Lavender (kindy), a Daisy (kindy), a Clover flower and a Dandelion. They don't recognise at the moment what is 'technically' a weed and in a gift from them, neither do I.

I think it's a habit they've picked up from their father, who also brought me flowers this week. Gerberas. Beautiful!!!

So thank you Coparent. Thank you Mr Smoochy and thank you Mr Cheeky. I'll take those flowers anytime. Be it pretty ones delivered to work with chocolates, or half-crushed-limp-from-palm-sweat weeds, I love them.

Panic with the Turtles

*Warning: The following post contains some not-so-nice (ie FUCKING AWFUL) topics and imagery. Do not read if you're feeling that you may be triggered by something within.

The boys have finally started swimming lessons. I'm really happy about this because the idea of owning a home with a pool with children who can't swim terrifies me. Plus, I know they'll enjoy it and it's a good, healthy sport. We can take them as a family and it's a good replacement for Mini-me for Karate which as we all know, I hate. Because there are the two of them, plus Mini-me, we really had to wait for an age where we could expect Mini-me to be ok while both Coparent and I were in the pool with the boys. So we're starting a bit late.

We had our 'assessment' done last week which went really well. Mini-Me completed hers first and happily showed off her skills. She was put in the 'Seal' class. Coparent and I each took a son and hopped in with them. It went ok. The instructor got an idea of what they could do (ie nothing) and they had a good time. Mr Cheeky threw a tantrum over leaving so it mustn't have been too bad!

So today comes the first official lesson. Mini-Me had hers first and enjoyed herself. I like her instructor who took the time to have a quick chat with me. The boys lesson, I did not enjoy.

Their instructor didn't want us in the pool. I cant understand why - she wants them to learn to do things by themselves. Mr Cheeky initially didn't like the idea of Coparent and I not getting in the water. He took about two seconds to get used to it then happily showed off his 'swimming' and did everything the instructor asked. He loves the water and I hope he stays that way.

Mr Smoochy is another story. He does not love the water. I think he feels the water is the suck. He has inherited his mothers slight fear* of the water. At one stage Mr Smoochy refused to even look his teacher in the eyes when she tried to get his attention. He was listening though and each new thing he tried, he took to once he'd gotten used to it. I did see a couple of very weak smiles occasionally.

Very occasionally. Because I couldn't watch.

I have a slight fear* of water. Which I desperately hope I don't share with the boys. But seeing them in the water, standing on a metal stand and having to rely on themselves to hold on sent me over the edge. They don't know to hold on. Mr Cheeky is a daredevil who thinks it's ok to get go and jump around. Mr Smoochy was just all-around not happy. I was on edge.

And then I tipped over.

I don't know why. Slight fear* combined with a healthy monthly dose of PMDD, a recent bout of Strep Throat and Scarlett Fever and general fatigue got the better of me. All of a sudden, I wasn't sitting in a chair in front of my children having a swimming lesson. I had images in my head of them dead in the water. I *knew* that my children were going to die. I could see them, drowned. I started to get hot and had trouble breathing. I knew rationally I was having a panic attack, but it's been so long I didn't see it coming.

I started to cry. Which set me further over the edge because now I was sitting, gripping onto a stupid plastic chair, trying not to fall over, trying to breath, crying in front of a pool filled with strangers, trying not to let Mini-mi, Mr Cheeky or Mr Smoochy see me upset. I knew in my head I was being irrational. I knew they were safe. But at the same time, I knew they weren't. And I didn't feel so safe myself.

I couldn't speak. Coparent could see me struggling but I knew even if I said the word 'panic' I'd lose it further.

So I sat there. Trying to get those images and thoughts out of my head. Trying to look anywhere except the water. The signs, the piping, outside. Anywhere but right in front of me. After much too long, I calmed myself enough to fake smile and pop on the 'pretend mask'.

They are in the Turtle class. They will be ok. And so will I, eventually. Although I am wondering what my GP will say if I turn up asking for Xanax for swimming lessons!



* Slight fear = irrational-oh-my-God-I'm-absolutely-terrified-for-my-life-whenever-I-get-near-deep-water fear. This includes pools, oceans, and even driving on bridges over water. Yeah, it is the suck.