I don’t understand the bully mentally… I  know why and how and what… I just don’t understand it.

I have spent most of last night and half of this morning trying to minimise the damage done to a friend by strangers on social media. Why? They are strangers. Why be cruel?

I don’t understand people. I don’t understand the incessant need to be mean. Selfish. Completely arrogant. Narcissistic.

And there it is. The catch phrase of the decade – narcissism. Is it really just a symptom of current society? Are we overusing the word? Is social media heightening awareness? Or also creating an increase in the instances?

People are closing in on me at the moment. I need more silence in my head. I am exhausted by nastiness. Blatant cruelty. I’m also rather fed up with one sided conversations and giving far too much energy to friendships, when the energy is not reciprocated.

I need silence. I need sustenance. I need someone to boost me for a while.


Setting the alarm

Day 2 back at work, and it’s not any easier so far…. maybe week 2?

I’ve always set my alarm for the latest possible moment. I know people who change the time on their clock,  but my brain is far too clever in the morning – it quickly does the maths and realises I have more time….

For the last year, I have managed to develop a bizarre routine in which I am trying to convince myself to get up earlier so I am not always cutting things so fine… My brain thinks I’m an idiot. It does the maths. I’m at a point where I’m setting my alarm at 5, thinking I can get up and do all those things I didn’t bother to do last night… maybe even start jogging again…. but I usually wake in the middle of the night and think – you fool…. as I reset the alarm for 5:30… and then at 5:30 the snooze button is hit every 10 minutes until at least 6 or after….


I need to get off my lazy butt and make things happen…

Back to work… seriously considering my options…

I’ve been here before – too many times. Oddly, the same day each year :p

I need a career change. I actually need time off as well. Real time. Time at home without commitments hanging over my head. Time to relax and enjoy life. Don’t we all?

But today is the day I’m particularly annoyed with stay at home mums – especially the ones who whinge about their life. Any other time, I’m ok with it – because we all have the right to whinge and the grass always looks greener over the fence… But today, rational thought and understanding have taken leave.

I want to be able to stay at home. I want that option. The idea of being at home whilst the kids are at school seems incredibly blissful. I’d love to be able to help at their school. I’d love to actually be there for all their events – especially the first day of school. Hanging out with the other parents at the back of the assembly as they are told their new classes for the year. Chatting about friendships formed and ones yet to form. About the teacher, the classroom, the school grounds. Home for a while. Yes, there’s housework to do, but there’s housework to do when you work as well – that doesn’t diminish in the slightest. I would love that option – just for a little while even…

I would also love a career that didn’t follow me home. Hours of it. Each day. I haven’t prepared for this year. That is going to bite me rather viciously today… and over the next few weeks… perhaps all year….

But that is the thing. I don’t want to go. I seriously don’t. Really, really, really don’t…

I want the choice.

bookI have read voraciously, ever since I can remember…. until my marriage fell apart… and then, I couldn’t seem to find the rhythm again…

Recently, I found it. I discovered what it is that I love so much about reading.


It’s exactly why I read.

Yes, to learn and to understand and to journey are all part of the package… but my main reason has always been to escape. To travel to new worlds and to new lives. To open a cover and to disappear into a world that is far removed from the one I am living.

Therein lies the key. I had been reading biographies at the time, and I have still have an unread pile beside my bed…. I kept buying…. I kept starting…

I tried teen literature – easy – the kids’ English novels as well as new ones to the school library where I worked…. but nothing really grabbed me. All was a slog….

Until I delved back into my past and grabbed a new fantasy off the shelves…. and fell into the world within…. and fell in love once more…


A world so far removed from my own.

Until a few days ago when i picked up a Marian Keys novel – The Woman Who Stole my Life. An easy read. Entertaining. Standard chick lit. I’ve read a couple of hers years ago. The story was entertaining. The Irish heroine regularly providing a laugh. Everything you want from a novel…


It struck far too many chords within. Far too many parallels with my own world. With my own heart.

Thus… the pieces finally fell into place and I realised…. I need escape. Right now, I can’t read for reality. Right now, my heart is still too raw. Right now, I want to open the pages and to disappear into a world that is so far from possible that it must be real somewhere.

My time machine

I am not a fan of mornings. I’m better than my sister though… but still, I’m really not a fan. I’m particularly not a fan of being woken with demands.

This morning, my bedroom door opened and a voice floated through “Can we go to the beach?”….

Sigh… I am over the beach. I never thought those words would pass my lips. I am over breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And Milo. And playgrounds. And school shopping. And kids’ movies. And birthday parties. And Luna Park. And whatever other activity arises that is purely directed at keeping kids entertained. Why can’t they, just once, sit! Just sit! And occupy themselves with the seven thousand toys and items they have here….

If I had my time machine? More than anything else in the world, I would choose a father for my kids that was involved. You know the ones. You see them on tv. Read about them in books. I’d choose one of those. Or I simply wouldn’t do it. Well, not four times at least…

Most days, single parenting doesn’t really bother me. It’s always been that way as he always played the favourite uncle rather than the active parent. He doesn’t think he should have to do the bad stuff – he rarely sees the kids after all. So, if I parented them correctly in the first place…. More sighing here….

But take away the purely selfish element that wouldn’t it be awesome if someone else fed them or took them somewhere – just once…. I’d do it for my kids themselves, because it completely and utterly sucks that they don’t have one of those active dads, who is around rather than choosing to be constantly absent….

Being selfish

Can I just have this? Can I just have this one thing???

I love my kids, but… I am so tired of that phrase! I am tired of having to give and to share all of the time. I am feeling incredibly resentful today. Can I just have this one thing? Can I just not have to share, just for a change?! I know they are sad, but this is my friend. My grief. And I don’t want to share it. I don’t want to be understanding and considerate. I don’t want to make allowances because they are confused and emotional and they don’t understand the situation or how to handle it. I want this to be mine. One thing. One damned day. I don’t want them to come to the funeral because I don’t want to have to console them or to listen to them talk. Incesssantly. Or to b e attached to my leg. Or to just be there at all. I just want one damned day to be sad all on my own. To be selfish. To just be me.