Ummm, Hi.

I found a house, it was SO nice. Cute three bedrooms, back deck. But, I have no money ... of my own. So, I have to go on benefits and be a single mother, and take two boys away from their dad. I applied for a personal loan at the bank, for five grand. So numb and fucked off at Mr TC. He knew things were bad ... he starts to back pedal and be all lovely. It's just not ok. Things are not ok.

We had words for THREE HOURS today. He took time off work. So much was said, man. I told him I just want to be a FAMILY, live simple, go camping. Parent our boys together. Said I was so SICK of processing all his emotional work for him. He didn't know what that meant ... to be honest, either do I. I just know I do it. I don't understand some dynamics at play. He grits and gets through and I'm left with the fallout of doing behind-the-scenes work? I am not a saint by any means - christ no. I'm a moody arsehole. But I feel like I sacrifice a lot of myself for him to achieve what he wants to achieve. I want him to be happy! He's been through so much - we both have.

And somebody else got the cute house ... (I left it up to the Heavens. If I got my application approved, I would have moved out. It would have been a Sign. Yes I know I'm a tad off-kilter. This is Crazyweek, obviously.)

So I stayed, for now, anyway. The fighting has GOT to stop, I'm trying to find a good couples counsellor. I'm so tired right now.

I will check in on all of you over the next few days. I miss you. You are not vague, hazy figures in the computer. You are all my friends, and I thank God you came into my life.

Who's on First?

I miss Topcat. Her wild swearing ... her nervous breakdowns. *sigh*

What to do? I can't leave this blog hanging, like spacejunk. Can't delete it, either. It's like a minefield of emotional explosions, that I simply cannot bear to go back and read, but can't say goodbye, either. She got me through.

Slowly but surely, though .. every time I posted here, I felt paranoid ... watched. Which spun me out badly. Until I got to the point where I thought, fuck this .. I will start a new blog in my real name, giving the haters absolutely no ammo. Can't hold it against me when I shine my crap out into the light. I'm still finding my voice over at my new digs .... finding a way to be comfortable sharing my fucked-upness. And I am fucked up.

I have a very long history with depression, and have been winning the battle for the last ten years, fucks sake. But right now, it hits me with waves of bleak. If I believed my head, life is simply not worth living right now. I feel like a walking raw nerve ... it is just so fucking awful. But I am also given the tool of immense clarity around it, so I can see it for what it is. My thoughts are simply not real, I am so glad that I can see that. Sometimes I get a second wind, but I can get a bit manic?

I will be seeing my doc about it this week. I think I've finally run out of adrenaline ... spewing! It's hard to read. And write. And mind the baby. And hold a pen. And drive my car. Everything is hard. Fucking bullshit. I haven't spoken a word about it to Mr TC. It's fucking crazy shit ... he's started doing 2K runs every morning, "Top 'o the world, Ma!" And I'm struggling to turn the fucking kettle on to make a cup of tea. People EVERYWHERE are telling him how amazing he looks. Today he goes, "Geez hon ... did I look that bad?"

And I felt that awful feeling in the pit again and I just turned to him, and said "Mate, you were about to DIE. You looked FUCKED."

He was so shocked. All the way through chemo, I told him he was looking pretty good. For he is such a proud lion and it affected him so. I showed him a photo of him, Monkey and Tiger in the bath. He was bald, and so so sick. "DELETE IT!!!! FAAAAAAARK!!!"

"Told you you looked fucked.'

Anyway. I have decided to keep this Topcat blog. She dug too deeply under my psyche to let go. I will post here every now and again ..... especially when I have a big rant that is so off-kilter and waaaaaaaaaaaaaay politically incorrect that I have too.

At the very bottom of my puny brain, is the unspeakable thought .... yeah, I'll need this space if Mr TC gets his cancer back.

I am not a morning person but you have to be when you have children. Monkey has just started sleeping through the night! Yesterday I just wanted to go to the gym, burn some pressure off.  I'd done all the fruit and veg and grocery shopping, in the heat. Prepared their dinner. Pureed Monkeys batch of veggies. Folded washing, homework, etc. I'm struggling, man. The gym is saving me right now. I don't fucking drink, or smoke, or do drugs. This LIMITS my feel-goods.

I was trying to do something to help myself, put myself first. I feel like I am living his life, his dreams, his house. I am flat broke and yet we are married but I do all the things? What's a woman worth?

Tiger has had intensive swimming lessons this week, every morning at 9.30am. I'm so flabby. Can't believe I lost weight after the baby, only to put more on!! Childcare at the gym is great, and it's the same people from Tigers school, I know them and they know us. A bright and cheery room ... I can totally leave Monkey there for an hour. I can take out a three month membership for $200, and the childcare only costs $5.

There are parts of me that are broken forever. It is my job to look after those parts of myself .. and I've really neglected that.

Some people in the world just fuck their childen over. I refuse to do that to my kids. Point blank. Obviously, I fuck up in some areas, but Tiger knows I will always tell him the truth. I spoke to him about how he feels when me and daddy argue - told him how sorry I was. He shrugged - his exact words were - "Well, I used to cry about it til I was three. Then I thought, it's got nothing to do with me. What am I crying for??"

__

There's a heat wave here. I love it. I wil never, ever complain about being too hot. I'm lying on my bed, sweating, at 9.40pm. I'm sleeping on top of Tigers bunk bed again. I love it. God I adore that little boy with my entire being.