PEOPLE ARE DIFFERENT

My mother & my husband have never quite got along, which is surprising considering that they have both triumphed over a difficult childhood. One of the most hurtful moments in my entire life was something my mother said to me just prior to my wedding. She commented that she found it difficult to talk to my (future) husband because she could not tell what he was thinking & found his face hard to read. She elaborated on this by adding that it was probably because he was Asian. It broke my heart, for I on the other hand had come to know his face so well & knew that he was a man who often wore his heart on his sleeve. A man who often justifies the wrongful actions of others by accepting that "people are different". I’m sure my mum is sorry for what she said, & I’ve tried so hard to forget it but can’t. The whole thing reminds me of Shylock’s soliloquy in Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice":

"Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

CHANGE

I’ve had a talk to the psychiatrist about the whole “nursing” thing & he too thinks it’s premature to turn my back on it altogether. He suggested getting out of palliative care & community nursing & to try another branch of nursing – something with a little bit of hope attached to it. He believes that the work I have done in the past may well have precipitated my depressive episodes – he’s probably right. The Alfred hospital here in Melbourne are looking for people to be trained up in Cancer care which involves a series of rotations (radiology, chemotherapy, haematology & research) – that way I can at least put my post grad qualifications to good use.

I think it might be premature to be even thinking about work right now anyhow, I have to concentrate on just getting better. The last few mornings I’ve felt like utter crap, I’ve still been getting up early but I feel sluggish. I’m just so disappointed with myself. Thank God my husband earns a decent wage & we don’t have any debt, otherwise where would we be? Over the last 12 months I have now officially been off work more than I have been at work & my husband hasn’t complained about it once – I’m so fortunate to have him. It terrifies me when I think how close I came to almost breaking it off with my husband when we were first going out, simply because I was a Christian & he was Buddhist. Of how my mother & some of my friends thought him to be ‘unsuitable’ - how wrong they were. Religion....it gets in the way of so much.

SAMANTHA

Last night I received some wonderful news, my niece Sam is coming down to visit in early December. She is one of the most precious people in my life, & it will be a joy to spend some time with her. She is just about to turn 18 in October. Sam is such a genuine person – there are parts of her that seem so young & childlike yet others that are old & wise. If you ever need someone to keep a secret – Sam is your best bet, she is one of the most loyal & trustworthy people I know. I remember in my early twenties when I got a tattoo, Sam was the first one to find out (she was seven) – & you know she never told a soul. She hates gossip & is not too afraid to pull people up over it. Since I've been diagnosed with bipolar she sends me these regular emails that simply just say three words "I love you" - they have meant so much to me. When she’s not at school, working, or playing sport she’s teaching kids to play soccer & wants to work with children when school finishes later this year. I’m not saying she’s a saint, but compared to me at the same age she demonstrates such level headedness & is so responsible. Her parents should be so very proud of her – I know I am.

New Internationalist

Isn't this cover art concept just brilliant - I love it!

DEADLY DUCK

Well I have just been out for my daily walk around the Botanical Gardens. Whilst on my travels I saw this sweet little duck bobbing up & down in the water so I thought I'd take a picture of him, and then he started to fly at me - just missing my bloody head! And here I was thinking it was just the magpie's you had to worry about.

THE FORGOTTEN PEOPLE

And animals are not the only forgotten ones - then there is the elderly. We kid ourselves into thinking we are doing what is best for them by placing them in institutions or euphemistically speaking “aged care facilities” – no one, NO ONE is "better off" in a nursing home. But it's convenient for us isn't it, to keep them hidden away out of sight? We can hand their care over to the "experts" & absolve ourselves of all responsibility.

A majority of people over the age of 65 have medical problems; many will even have complex health care needs. To be placed in a nursing home today you have to be classified as “high level care”. Once you are in a facility you’re lucky if you get your own room & even more fortunate if you get your own bathroom. You will be primarily taken care of by personal care workers – people who have undertaken a course of approximately 12 weeks duration. You will be surrounded by a large number of other aged people also vying for the attentions of the personal care worker. You will see a registered nurse only on occasion, sometimes to dish out your pills or if your condition happens to deteriorate – he or she will have anywhere up to 80 other people to look after. You will be seen by a doctor even less.

"High care" - but you rarely get it. If you'd been younger & disabled you would find yourself in a share house with a few other people with a care ratio of approximately 1 carer to every 4-6. If you were at home & then hospitalised you would have a registered nurse to look after you along with approximately 3 other patients & you would see a doctor daily. But if you're old in a nursing home, you will be cared for by minimally trained personal care staff, each of whom have 10-15 other people to look after. And you stay there, day in & day out waiting to die.

You wake up – you get toileted – you’re fed breakfast – you get your pills - you have a shower (if you’re lucky) – you’re plonked in a chair – you stare at the TV – you have morning tea -you get toileted – you’re fed lunch – you’re back to the TV – you go to activities & get treated like a 3 year old – you have afternoon tea - you get toileted – you eat dinner – more TV or maybe some music - you have supper - you get toileted - you go to bed. Tomorrows Saturday - maybe a visitor might come? But then again they may not. And so it goes, and they call this living, they pride themselves on the longevity…on the statistics. My heart goes out to you all & my full support is with those who fight tooth & nail to stay in their own homes or have the courage & the will to say ENOUGH! & put an end to it all.

As long as I'm alive my parents will never know what it is like to live in a nursing home. That is my promise....that is my pledge!

ONE

"The animals of the world exist for their own reasons. They were not made for humans any more than black people were made for whites or women for men"

-ALICE WALKER-

"I have learned from an early age to abjured the use of meat, & the time will come when men such as I will look upon the murder of animals as they now look upon the murder of men"

-LEONARDO DA VINCI-

THE WHALE

I watched on the news last night the concerted efforts to free a whale which had been caught in fishing net. It was one of those news stories they like to end the program with…the ones that make you all warm & fuzzy inside. I cannot help but be puzzled by this, whilst meanwhile our governments stance on anti-whaling is mediocre to say the least. Sure they’ll say that they disagree with it but let’s not go too far, lets not jeopardise the trade relations.

It frustrates me how man can dare take an interest in such news stories or watch programs on TV like “talk to the animals’. Meanwhile they continue to build their huge houses & highways, encroaching on natural habitats. Displacing native wildlife like refugees & flooding their waters with waste. Yet others they farm & harness like slaves, gorging off them, or using them as a source of entertainment & experiment.

How dare you pretend you care, the gall of it!

"The world is a dangerous place. Not because of those who do terrible things. But because of those who let them do it."
-ALBERT EINSTEIN-

SLEEP

Its 2:30 in the morning & I’m wide awake – the birds aren’t even up yet! I can’t sleep, I must have scratched my cornea when I took my contact lenses out last night & now it’s irritating the hell out of me. I’ve just been reading a blog written by a person with similar mental health issues as myself. It’s sad to hear that there are others going through the same dreadful circumstances but it’s also strangely comforting to know you’re not alone.

The top layer of skin on my lips is off again – I’m agitated. I don’t feel suicidal but I know it’s something that lies just under the surface. I’ve been a little concerned lately as my husband is going to Cairns in two weeks time for work; he’ll be gone for 4 days. It’s a horrible feeling when the person you have to be most scared of may well be yourself. I’m just so disappointed about my failed attempt at returning to work. But lets face it the last thing palliative patients need is a nurse who’s on the verge of tears all the time & believes that PRN ‘pillow treatment’ should be written up on their drug charts. I just get the guilts about not working & about my illness eating away at our savings. I’m so lucky that I have such a supportive husband – he may not be able to understand me but he does his best to try.

I haven’t been able to get in to see my psychiatrist yet, I have his mobile number for emergencies but I’m reluctant to use it. I don’t know whether to just start taking a higher dose of my SNRI until I see him or what. At the moment I’m needing to take the PRN valium that he gave me for increased agitation. Tomorrow it will be seven weeks since my last major ‘breakdown’, I know that I’ve come a long way since then but if I’m honest with myself I also know that I’m far from being ‘well’. What I’d be like without all the medication is anyone’s guess but I’m not about to stop them to find out.

I’m going to try my best to get back to sleep now, I’ll lay in bed & do my progressive muscle relaxation & breathing techniques, count sheep……anything to keep myself from thinking.

MEMORY

Last night I talked to my eldest brother Peter on the telephone, we talked for about an hour. During our conversation we talked of many things, both present & past. Isn’t it strange how two people can share the same memories yet interpret them so very differently? Peter admitted that his memories from childhood are very vague, mine on the other hand often feel as though they’re taking place in the very next room.

Our father was a hard man, or should I say he was an unhappy man. Age has been kind to my father & with the passage of time he has mellowed & become less prone to outbursts of anger. But then again he no longer drinks alcohol either. My brother Peter says he can’t remember much about those days, those afternoons when dad had been on the drink – it’s probably a form of self preservation.

It was Peter who just last year was approached by a doctor for whom he; my other brother Steven & our dad had done a job for decades earlier. He told Peter of how he was once considering contacting DOC’s (the Department Of Children’s Services) in regards to my fathers harsh treatment of them. All three of my brothers were taken out of school & put to work as soon as they were able to. Working long hours up to six days a week, with no thought given to their own dreams....their own aspirations.

At times I see my father in myself – the workaholic, the perfectionist nature, the anger, the violent temper. It makes it easier to forgive him....it makes it easier to forget. My dad has since apologised in his own small way, but he also takes credit for the financial success my brothers have subsequently had. In retrospect I find it hard to believe that the whole thing was allowed to take place, the only way I escaped it all was by being born a girl.

BLUE

Blue, here is a shell for you

Inside you’ll hear a sigh

A foggy lullaby

There is your song from me

-JONI MITCHELL-

JEANNE HEBUTERNE

This is, in my opinion, perhaps the saddest painting ever put to canvas. Who would guess that in less than a year both the artist, his muse, and their unborn child would all be dead. Modigliani aged 35 from ill health, Jeanne at 21, throwing herself from their apartment window 2 days after his death.

The tilt of the head, the vacant stare - eyes like lakes frozen over in winter. Is she looking at you, looking through you, or looking past you into another dimension?

COOL HAND LUKE

Paul Newman 26/01/1925- 26/09/2008 - actor, director, & most importantly devoted husband, humanitarian, & philanthropist

THE PIANO

Jane Campion’s ‘The Piano” is perhaps my favourite film; I have been sitting at home today listening to the soundtrack. I love the fact that Ada has elected not to speak but instead expresses herself through music - the piano is her voice....her very soul. We never quite learn why Ada chose to stop speaking at the age of six but the film alludes to a traumatic childhood experience being the likely catalyst.

I admire Ada for her passion, her stubborn defiance & determination. God knows I long for silence in a world where so much is said about so little. This film is simply brilliant, from the potent sexuality, to the breathtakingly visceral cinematography, to the perfect piano score accompaniment. It is one of the few films where I have literally howled in the cinema – I just couldn’t stop myself.

YouTube link Michael Nyman: http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=hdWLwRexMRA

BUTTERFLIES

I saw some butterflies today, they’re always a pleasant surprise. I love butterflies, so beautiful, so delicate. Isn’t it awe inspiring how this rounded grub undergoes a metamorphosis to become this brilliant creature with wings! It amazes me that they go through this transformation only to live for a short burst of life in the air. Too fragile to touch - so fragile that to touch their wings leaves traces of them behind on your fingertips.

CONFIDENCE

What a strange day I’ve had. First there was my post about how I was going to take a break from nursing & then my mother rang & relayed a story she had read in a magazine – it was about Dr Rachel Harvey who had actually worked at Mackay Base hospital when my husband & I worked there in 2000. Apparently since then she has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, she had a breakdown and left emergency medicine. She took a period of eight months off work to recover & now she works as a general practitioner for a small town in north Queensland. She was considering leaving medicine altogether due to the stress but persisted & her illness is now well managed.

This got me to thinking, what exactly would I do if I didn’t do nursing? It would have to be something without qualifications; this would probably mean entering the retail or hospitality industries. I definitely couldn’t work in a place which included the use of animal products - I just can’t stand the smell. And as much as I like pretty pampering things I don’t think I could sell them. There is no other career that I want to train for – I did six months of a Law degree & hated it. I don't think I could ever be a teacher. I do want to study creative writing as part of a graduate diploma in Arts but this will not necessarily result in employment. And so it was that I came back to nursing, there is a part of me that still wants to be a nurse. I just don’t like the harsh reality of it (maybe I’ve just had bad experiences). I believe I just need to hold on to why I chose nursing to begin with; there will always be the huge divide between theory & practice in any profession. You will always get lazy people who are just there to collect their pay check at the end of the week, those who really don’t care.

What I realised the other day at work was that I am far from being well, the moment the slightest bit of stress & strain was added I fell apart. I need to rebuild myself & my self esteem. Right now despite what my curriculum vitae may say I feel as though I know nothing – for some reason I have lost all confidence in myself & my abilities. Apparently this is quite a common feature of a major depressive illness. So I won’t divorce nursing from myself just yet, I think that may be a little premature. It took Rachel 8 months & from what I recall she is an extremely strong woman, so I need to give myself some time & when I’m ready nursing will be there waiting for me.

MORNING SKIES

The sky is so beautiful this morning, it looks like an ocean dappled with light!

HANDS

After some deliberation I have decided to resign from my position at work & take an extended break from nursing. I will get a different job, perhaps in retail & just concentrate on my health & well being. When it comes time to re-register in December with the nursing board I will & after that who knows. I have been a nurse in some form or another for 12 years; it’s become an integral part of who I believe I am. It feels almost as if a part of me is dying. It’s been a marriage of sorts, a tumultuous one at that, & it’s almost like we’re having a trial separation with a view to divorce.

It’s strange, but I knew I didn’t want to be a nurse towards the end of my first year at university. I had just finished my first practical on a neurological ward in Brisbane, I had been caring for people with multiple sclerosis; MND; Huntington’s etc & I remember feeling physically totally drained. But I was persuaded into continuing. Most students loved the practicals & hated the theory – I was just the opposite.

One thing I do remember on that first prac was looking after a man who was in a vegetative state after a failed suicide attempt – he had carbon monoxide poisoning. He had been in the car with two other men, both of whom died. They had all recently been named as being part of a paedophile ring in Queensland. As I washed this mans body I soon discovered that no one had cleaned him thoroughly for quite some time. The palms of his hands were contorted from contractures and were caked with a smelly slimy residue & were showing signs of maceration & breakdown. Looking after this man encouraged me to read more on the subject of paedophilia, and to a certain extent I came to understand what may have driven him to committ such unspeakable acts.

That has been my problem all along, I want to understand too much when sometimes (esp. in health care) you should just “do”. My other main problem with nursing is how it remains so “task orientated”. To a certain extent I can understand why, due to time management pressures & the protocols which need to be adhered to. But this goes against my personal philosophy in life & my belief that we are all such unique individuals, there is also very little creativity in nursing.

I also believe in the old adage of “nurses eat their young”, nursing you’ll find, is divided into two camps - those who were hospital trained & those who went through university. At times quite a divide can exist between the two, with hospital trained nurses often resenting their peers who have a university education. They often use their seniority status to belittle & punish those who are below them in rank; this behaviour (like many forms of abuse) is then often perpetuated & becomes part of the ‘nursing culture’.

It may be that I will return to nursing, but something in me says I may not. I have invested so much in it, not only time but vast amounts of energy also. Who knows, after a period of "being stable" I will sit back & re-evaluate it all & take it from there - one step at a time.

SUNSET

The day is coming to a close & I'm trying to be positive, things will get better - others have got through this & so will I.

THE FIGHTING TEMERAIRE

Ever since I can recall this has been my favourite painting. I love what it symbolises and I love the colour....the light. No one quite captures light like Turner. 'The fighting Temeraire - tugged to her last berth to be broken up" - I love the sheer beauty, the majesty of the Temeraire. Shrouded in ghostly colours, being dragged along by the smaller, uglier tug boat - spurting out its poisonous fumes to the sky. I love the fact that she's 'fighting', that she wants to live to see many a more sunsets. But she is losing the battle, the colour has drained from her - as if her spirit has already departed before she reaches her final shore, where she is to be torn apart, her organs scattered to the four corners of the earth, perhaps never to touch her beloved seas again.

AWAKENING

Cold in the earth
Thawed by the sun
I slowly take form
I slowly come to life

ME MYSELF & I

We’ll meet again you & I
To laugh….
To leap…..
To love…..
In fields of flowers at midnight unafraid

CERBERUS

I hear you down there
Sniffing around in the darkness
Looking for scraps
Mere morsels from my table
I’m not going to let you in
So forget about it!
You hound of Hell
You black beast from the basement
You’ve had your fill
The marrow’s sucked from my bones
There’s nothing left
What could you possibly want from me now?
To bury me in your dirt;
A stolen treasure;
A trophy from the hunt?
Or do you just wish to taunt me?
Drive me mad with terror
As you hang around hungry
Just waiting for me to regain my strength
So you can feast on me all over again

PSYCHOMOTOR RETARDATION

The psychomotor disturbance is back this morning. I have had my NSRI's & have just downed 2 consecutive energy drinks just to get myself moving. At least I’m not curled up in a ball in bed. That’s the main difference with bipolar depression – the psychomotor retardation, you even blink slowly. Before undergoing specific treatment for bipolar I was lucky if I got myself out of bed in the morning – I’d get up & try to get myself off to work & I’d doze off again, sometimes I’d even be sitting on the toilet or under the shower. I’d then get nauseated & vomit – the keys were in the ignition but the motor she just wouldn’t start. I HATED mornings -they were just a blur, I believe this is why my love of vampire & witches tales developed - I shared an affiliation of sorts.

I have to laugh when they say that depression (especially melancholic bipolar depression) cannot be seen, that it is an ailment that is 'invisible'. Mine is as visible as the nose on my face. At times the anxiety which accompanies it is so savage that it is the first thing you do see when you look at me. So it's not purely psychological in nature, it may be partially psychological in origin but it definitely manifests itself physically as well.

The Black Dog Institute explains bipolar depression really well, if you're interested you can read about this in more detail via the following link: http://www.blackdoginstitute.org.au/public/bipolardisorder/bipolardisorderexplained/bipolardepression.cfm

DON'T GIVE UP

A dear sweet friend of mine sent the following poem to me recently, it was one which I had written in my eary twenties. I had forgotten all about it as I had destroyed most of my writings during a destructive rage years ago. I had sent it to her as she was going through a difficult stage in her life with Chronic Fatigue - I guess I should now take my own advice & "not give up".

When your life seems hard & always in a mess
When the long road ahead seems steep & endless...
don't give up!
When tears you cry seem to never stop
When the thought of Hope seems all you've got...
don't give up!
Life's not all that bad, you'll find that's true
Just put on a smile & change your view
There always tomorrow & that's enough
to keep you smiling...
so don't give up

BLUE

Don’t know if I can make it this time. Don’t know if I can take the failure of yet another attempt to be ‘normal’. What has happened to me? What is this thing that has invaded my head & taken up residency in my body? What exactly is this Bipolar? My husband said he had a feeling that going back to work so soon wouldn’t work out ….its been 5 weeks!! The doctor just last week looked at me solemnly & said “go back to work & just see how you go”, like he’d admitted defeat before the battle had even begun. Was I the only one who had faith in me? My parents will ring this morning to see how I went at returning to work & the tears will come again as I reiterate my failure. Mum will do her best not to cry & dad will once again say that I should be up in Queensland with them. I don’t think geography has anything to do with it! I wish the solution was that easy.

I had placed so much faith in this recovery, maybe a little too much faith. I was feeling good till yesterday though, and that is something to hold on to. I have wasted so much time & money on this ‘thing’ – naturopathy, psychology, kinesiology, & yet it remains like a disease that has resisted curative measures & palliation is all that remains. Well that’s just the thing isn’t it – there is no cure for Bipolar. Last night I cried out to God for help......I hope he heard me. I hope he's there.

WORK

Well I got through my first day back at work; problem is I didn’t make it to my second. I thought I was doing so well. Thought I was feeling the best I had in years. I was doing reasonably okay until I had a run in with one of the nursing coordinators, her comments were not directly aimed at me & I was assured that she had a reputation of being a bit of a ‘dragon’. But I took it personally & the agitation started & pretty soon I was fighting back the tears. On my tea break I sat on the couch by myself, hoping & praying with every fibre in my being that no one would ask me how I was I going, or look too closely & discover that I was on the verge of crying. I knew that if I started I just wouldn’t be able to stop so I tensed up my body so tight & stared blankly at the TV till it was time to go back to work.

My heart just about breaks for the patients on the ward; it’s so sad to see them reduced to this ‘shell’. Their bodies being slowly overtaken by the cancer – invading them, like a virus to the host, till all that remains is ‘the cancer’. And it slowly becomes all that people do see - your existence reduced to a series of attempts to ‘appease’ the cancer.

Each time I went to a sink to wash my hands I would catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror – my eyes were red, my face flushed. When my shift was over & it was time to return home I walked to the train station & found that due to maintenance that the trains were cancelled till further notice. And that did it, I started to come apart. I walked back down to the street to get a cab & while I was waiting the thoughts started. A group of drunkard youths were nearby, initially I was frightened but then the thought came into my head that if they beat me up, if they assaulted me, they’d be doing me a favour. I’d have a legitimate reason to look the way I felt. I got home, my husband asked me how the night had gone & I sat there and sobbed – tears streaming down my face till the collar of my shirt was wet. The thoughts which I believed had left me returned & suddenly everyday household items became potential weapons of self destruction – like the Phillips-head screw driver that lay on the bench begging me to pick it up & plunge it into my neck.....into my heart. And so my husband, playing nursemaid, dished out my antipsychotics & anxiolytics.

And so it goes, I’m back full circle to where I started. I will contact my psychiatrist today & no doubt my medications will increase yet again. Maybe the doctor is right, maybe it is time to consider something different to nursing, especially palliative care nursing. I don’t know. I don’t know anything……..

LOVE HEARTS IN THE SKY

I took these photos this morning, the air balloons look like two tiny love hearts dotted against the morning sky!

THE BIG DAY

A dear friend of mine is getting married in 10 days & as happens with most brides she is going through the whole gamut of emotions. Wedding days are such a stressful event no matter how simple you try to make them. I remember that my own was fraught with problems – little problems that perhaps no one saw but to me they seemed huge on the day. Apparently the average Australian wedding costs approximately $28,700 & takes 2 years to plan – ours cost about $4,300 & took less than 6 months.

Here is a list of the things that weren’t quite right:

1. My skin, as it is prone to do at stressful times, had broken out

2. My friend who was going to help with my hair & makeup became ill & wasn’t able to do it at the last minute & I had to do my own

3. The roses I had ordered were not enough & I had to rush around buying them from anywhere I could find some – then I had to arrange them

4. I’d forgotten to order contact lenses for myself so the whole thing happened in a hazy blur & I found it hard to focus for the photos

5. My Cousin & his family turned up late & entered via the side door right in the middle of us exchanging vows

6. My Uncles mobile telephone went off in the middle of the ceremony

7. The gentleman doing the sound didn’t quite get the music right on que

8. The candles that my nieces were holding blew out cause someone went & opened all the blasted windows in the church despite it being quite cool for February

9. Things were awkward between my husband & my mum (they’re still not each others greatest fan but relations have improved considerably)

10. My mum, who was in charge of the food for the kids, forgot to get it ready & my sister in law had to end up doing it

11. I fell down the stairs on my honeymoon & spent the rest of it bruised & sore with a big fat lip

12. I forgot to send out thank you cards to people who participated in the wedding – something I plan to do on our next anniversary (this is what I regret the most)

The list does go on, & in retrospect I bought most of it upon myself as I decided to do everything myself – from designing and making the invitations & order of service to designing the dress & getting my aunt to help make it, to preparing the flowers & the food. Way too much stress. But looking back, overall it was a wonderful day & more importantly, I have a wonderful marriage. After all it’s just one day out of the rest of your lives together.

My first year of marriage was perhaps the toughest of my life, I wondered if I’d made the right decision – not in regards to my husband but in getting married altogether. I found it hard to adjust to the invasion of my personal space & privacy which I had always held so dear. But over the years I have been able to redefine my boundaries & reclaim that part of me that I keep to myself. My husband is my closest & dearest friend & we just get happier & more comfortable with one another as the years pass. We look back on our wedding day now with joy & laughter as we recall the moments of that day, like dancing to “Sunshine on my shoulders” in the dining room surrounded by family & friends. We have a good life together, we’re one of the “lucky” ones …one of the “blessed”. And you will be too Jan, I just know it.

POOR LITTLE BLUBBER BOY

Happy 38th birthday to my dear brother David. We have had some wonderful times together you & I and I'm certain there are many more to come. The nick name "Blubber Boy" came from David being a little on the chubby side - we all had nick names for each other & rarely called each other by our rightful names. Mine were "Wolf" & "Afghan hound" - lovely, one brother still calls me "Wolf" to this day.

So "Happy Birthday Blubber Boy!" Thanks for letting me come & sleep on your top bunk at night when I got too scared. I love ya Davey!

OFF TO WORK WE GO

Back to work tomorrow - they have me on 2 days supernumerary which is nice (I don’t know if that’s more for me or for them!). It’s going to feel strange going back wondering just who knows that I've been on sick leave because I wanted to kill myself. Well, I’ve definitely done all I can to prepare myself for going back. It’ll be good to spend 8 hours straight not thinking of me for a change & being around people who have it way worse than I - worse than I can probably even imagine. I’m proud of being a nurse & I have come to realise that most of my dislike & frustration about the profession stems from the huge divide between what I ‘believe’ nursing should be & the ‘harsh reality’ of it all. But I just have to focus on being the best I can be & do the best I can with the resources available.

In the past when I have wanted to quit nursing I have often wondered what it was that I would rather be doing & I came up with nothing (besides creative writing - & precious few get to make a living out of that!). The problem in the past I think has been the fact that I have been ill, a lot of people with Bipolar are unable to work altogether. Hopefully that will never happen to me – otherwise I will get even more depressed. So I'm going to approach going back to work tomorrow as a fresh start with nursing - a new start with a new symptom free me. A person who now loves mornings - a person who can 'function' in the mornings. The psychiatrist states that I have responded to treatment in ‘text book’ fashion & with continued care I may never have a major depressive episode ever again – wouldn’t that be wonderful. But no more extra stressors – no more shifting from place to place, from job to job. I need routine, this thing…this Bipolar demands it!

WISTERIA

Wandering Wisteria wildly wreaths & winds its way down Walsh Street

CLEARWAYS EXTENSION

For those interested just a reminder that demonstrations against Clearways Extensions in Melbourne will be held tomorrow (25/09/08) at the following sites:

Outside post office - Toorak Rd
Pedestrain crossing - Toorak Rd
Crn High St & Kooyong Rd - Malvern

they should run for approx 1/2 hr

To view the Greens position on Clearways Extensions: http://www.electedgreensvictoria.org.au/mr.php?mr=475&filter=SP

GOSSIP

The last time I spoke to my mum she was quite upset about something she had heard that a friend had said about her. 65 years old & gossip is still a problem. I may get lonely at times but in a way I'm glad my husband & I keep to ourselves to avoid the "he said, she said" scene. Why can't people find more constructive things to do with their time - "idle hands make for idle gossip". But as I said to mum, its' power is only as strong as you yourself allow it to be & you have the ability to stop it in its tracks. In the past I myself have gotten very upset over gossip & at times I have even engaged in it & hated myself for it. My stomach churns every time I hear someone say "don't tell anybody this, but.....". Gossip is a terrible, evil thing & there are so many more exciting things for us to talk about besides other people.

SPRING

What a difference two weeks can make, the trees are begining to sprout with leaves!

L'OCCITANE

I just love L'Occitane, I love going in there & just smelling the place. The people that work there must think I'm strange but every now & then I do actually buy something - I got these postcards from there just yesterday. I love going in & pretending that I'm in France....I'm just absolutely certain that I'd love France. I'll get there one day.

I love imagining that I'm in another time & place. It's wonderful when a great work of art, a great film, or even a shop like L'Occitane, helps transport you there.