The Sun is Shining

Yep, the sun is shining. The sky is that gorgeous blue dotted with whispy clouds drifting past in the breezes of the stratospehere. The temperature is cool but the sun's rays bring a reassuring warmth to my skin. It is just what I need to fend of the SADS, but even this blessed beautiful pre-winter day is not enough to tempt me out of bed.

As I had feared yesterday I am headed into a slight depressive stint.

I guess the thing most 'normal' people don't understand is that even when everything appears to be going well, a person who has BMD is not guaranteed a safe place away from the claws of the illness.

Over the years I have learned that I am vulnerable to depression under several circumstances.

• the end of a manic episode
• when the tibulations of life are hurtling every emotional test in my direction and I am drawing from deep down the strength to cope
• when the skies are solidly grey and winter descends towards the shortest day.. and times like now, when there are no obvious external indicators towards depression.

The other thing 'normal' people do not understand is that there is basically two types of depressions, clinical and environmental.

The second (environmental depression) occurs during or after periods of extreme stress, when the brain cannot keep producing adrenaline just to keep the body functioning and going when what is most needed is a period of rest, calm and nurturing.

Environmental depression can often morph into the first type... clinical. This is what had me hospitalised the last four times.

This first type of depression, the clinical one, can come from nowhere, with no identifiable triggers.

This is how I feel today.

My life has just seemed settled after many, many months of emotional trauma. The emotional environment around me actually feels positive and I know I have a chance to capitalise on positive energies... but BANG... out of the blue comes this downward pressure.


Just living is hard work.

Getting out of bed is not so much a self-discipline act, it is a phisical challenge; the sheer emotional pain of facing the day ahead is debillitating. Once one can get showered and dressed (which for many sufferers is nigh on impossible, but luckily never for me) it feels as if the entire day's energy has been exhausted.

The logical thing to do, but by far the hardest, is to reintroduce your wellness routine. As I have learned mine is meditation, gentle excercise particularly in the sun and eating good heathy vitamin rich food. I can write it here. I know it inside my soul, but to put this into action becomes virtually impossible for the reason that you feel that there is no point to fighting.

An existential tiredness swamps you. What is the point? Getting well means that you will inevitably get ill again, and people will see just how weak you actually are. Thus begins the self-defeating, and self-destructive downward spiral.

• Today I won't surrender.
• I will fight the downward forces.
• I will not go under.
• Not now.
• Not when I still have so much to prove to the outside world that I can be a normal employee, scholar and woman.
• Not with only a few more precious weeks of PhD.
• I will not self-sabotage for whatever reason.

Yet, I cannot go out for a walk, the motivation is just not strong enough. I will however,conce dressed, sit in the comfy chair and think quietly. I will attempt to deconstrauct why my mood is shifting downwards. It has to be my own fear of success? (This is implementing Cognitive Behavioural Therapy; looking at the emotions attached to thought patterns and deconstructing them to discover the il-logic).

Answer: Is it that with no response on two potential job fronts, my ego and self-worth is taking a pummelling?

Ah now I am getting somewhere. The old problem, my self-esteem is so linked to my professional earning capacity, that when things don't appear to be going my way, I feel devalued.

How in God's name does one build a central core of strength when one has this damn illness?

What can I do, so the day is not a complete loss?

I can write... at least this bloody journal/blog.

If I can just externalise the issues and feelings, perhaps I can envisage that I have just released them, like helium balloons up into that blue sky outside. Then perhaps tomorrow I can get back to work. (Fingers crossed... and I am more determined than every to give myself a morning yoga session).

I am seeking liberation. Liberation from my inner demons, please??

...before I slide further down the x-axix than minus three.

Beautiful Sunday...

This is for my friend Sandra to allow her her daily dose of "musical Tourettes".

Now, after that aside I will get to the point. It is a good thing no-one was home yesterday. I was in a terrible mood. My back was hurting again. That's getting on to a month now. I am really getting sick of low grade pain. I know what caused it.

I had a pretty full on computer-based day on Saturday. I guess I was just trying to stay out of the 'other end of the house' as that is where the emotional danger zone lies. So I hybernate in my study under the guise of getting down to work on my PhD.

That works as long as people do not come looking for me to find every lost item as need arises. Who am I the house psychic? What makes men think women have this special intrinsic connection with missing items of clothing or passports from ten years ago?I must have been staring into space mentally critiquing her over-the-top use of sparkles and bugle beads, when the fairygodmother handed out this particular female skill set.

Then I get shitty, and start to lose the little focus I had. I notice I return to form and start doing electronic paper shifting and administrative e-filing. Thus a productive hour fritters into a less productive two hours.

Ah the PhD, that wonderful opportunity to focus on one thing at the expense of all other demands. I know in theory it should be that way.

Yet, for every female candidate I have spoken with, it simply doesn't unfold that way.
"We are the females of the house, so we must maintain the household emotional caregiving roles, even when we are working!"

And that little room filled with books, computers and printers... it is a workplace, yet apparently only the PhD candidate sees it that way.

To others it is a space where Mum can be trapped and forced to be approachable... she has no way out apart from leaving via the external door and that would be just plain rude!

How I long to be "just plain rude" sometimes.

Yet, I do not shout, as I should,... I just simmer in silence for ages after each interruption ensuring that the interruption itself now expands into available minutes and hours.

Well this was my Saturday. Filled with meeting others needs and juggling a few precious moments of concentration on my screen and Exegesis... and like Christ's story, the writing up bit is the problematic one, even for one disciple with a single focus and perspective.

Yet, by the end of the day, or after a good twelve hour stint I feel free to watch my beloved Magpies on the TV, against the old foe Brisbane.

On no, sitting again. By the third quarter I realise that my back and lower spine are hurting. I have sat still too long. Sunday would inevitably be a nightmare of pain and discomfort. It was.

Why is it that when I actually put in the work required at this stage of the PhD, physically my body is now letting me down, not just my mind?

Saturday night into Sunday was a blur of pain. Hot water bottle, hot shower, pepermint masage cream, physio stretches then resorting to analgesics and fitful sleep from 5.30am.

Sunday a blur. There was no way I could be dragged from the bed before midday. As I stood I realised that the pain was not over. More analgesics and a need for gentle stretches and excercises... but hey it's conviently raining.

I was becoming so down that there was no possible way to motivate myself into going outside. It is so much more reassuring to use a curled and purring cat on the lap as excuse for not moving, (and sure looks cute) even knowing that by sitting still again I would be compounding the pain.

Like wiccans, my cat of choice is of the black variety... what does that say about me?... another extraneous aside.

I feel no control over my actions. My lethargy is overwhelming. I feel like I am sliding into the darks space.... I have and the doona cannot call too soon. I am back with hot water bottle and pepermint cream at 7.30pm. Yep, I lasted less than 7 hours in an approximation of upright and awake. Oh Oh....

Ten years and now healing....

It's happened. After ten years there has finally been a healing between my son and his father. I never thought I would say it.

Last night "the family" went out for dinner at a small local bistro and let's just say things did not start well between myself and his father. Luckily my newly matured son stepped in and calmed the metaphorical waters.

We ended up having a shared whinge about the waitress, "chefs" and general quality of the restaurant fare. I was the lucky one who managed to order the actual reasonably cooked dish, a simple grilled rack of lamb, tender and moist as hoped. Lucky for the two blokes I can only eat a small portion, (and believe me this bistro charges surcharges for public holidays and is adamant that there are NO VARIATIONS to menu) so being stuck ordering a main, both could share this one dinner with me. Their paella was adequate... but that's when I got into trouble again. Whilst Louis has a thing about people promouncing the g in lasagne, it appears he is more cavalier with the ls in paella.

I hate it when it is pronounced pay ell la. I gently corrected Louis as he ordered from the waitress, and attempted to have her pronounce it pay yea ya... but this caused a ruckus after she had departed. Louis was stubborn and confrontational implying I was a tosser. I tried to explain that with all the businesses doing the cuisine de moment (Spanish) they could at least learn what bloody TAPAS actually is and how it is served, and how to pronounce paella. Then to have Italian style reds and no rioja, which is now grown in Victoria!

So after this disasterous interchange the only way back was to chose a good wine. I choose the 10 minutes by tractor Pinot Noir (the blend from all three vineyards) at a very reasonable $44. (the single vineyard wines would have had to be around $60 - $90 on a restaurant menu). Well, thank goodness I got something right.

Louis announced that he would have a beer as he didn't like Pinot... this after it had been brought to the table and opened. Carlo then joined him. I thought stuff you both. I won't drive home and will drink the whole bottle! After Carlo engaged the waitress in conversation over this bottle (she had never served any before) and he told her he had worked there, then explained the vineyard constellation and quality of wine produced, he felt obliged to join me in a glass. This prompted Louis to want to have a small taste... small taste??

Let's just say leaving the car parked in Rye was a good idea and taxi home. We virtually did a whole bottle each! $132 wine alone! But in the way of all vino veritas, the boys started talking about wines of quality they ahd shared, and restaurants they enjoyed/hated. Most were from the somewhat factious trip to Italy in 2002.

Louis challenged Carlo that he couldn't possibly remember anything, him being so young. Carlo countered by taking them both on a reconstructed trip with detailed descriptions of Singapore, Paris and Italy. Carlo then confessed that he felt he had been too young to appreciate the experience we gave him and how he wished he could take back his spoilt brat behaviour and do it again. This coming from a boy who said he would never leave this country again!


His father tearfully said he wished the same. Then it all happened. With us having to remorgage the house to buy them both new (second hand cars) this week, I had been advised as family finance director that we had room for much more equity draw down should we wish. I know very generous of WHICH BANK of course!

But hang on a moment. We have a boy just turned 21 and a father turning 78 next week. We do not get another chance. They are both going to Italy again this year. Whilst it set us back the best part of $25k then, I want them to be more independent and able to really experience the continent, without regard for family commitments. I have made the fiscal excecutive decision to carry more debt on the house. Who bloody cares, it's just bricks and mortar. This is something much more important. It is chance to undo so much hurt and pain before it is too late. All three of us ended up crying with joy.

I announced that I would stay home and look after the bloody cats! This will save a great deal of money. Louis felt this wasn't fair, and I said when they got home if there was money left over they could buy me (apart from my perfumes: Chanel Allure, D&G Light Blue and Armana Aqua di Gio or Gio), I expected to buy solar roof panels and a grey water system.

We all laughed all the way home. Then at home I watched the last quarter of the footy whilst knitting a scarf IN THE SAME ROOM as the blokes played hand after hand of red aces over cheese, pomegranites, chestnuts and COGNACs.

Today in the cool light of day, we have chased up the passports (both need renewal) and I have begun bookmarking pensiones and apartments links.

I am so happy for them both. I can't believe this is all happening. I am confident THIS TIME it will work. I am also realistic, there will be ups and downs as per usual but my son is a different person now and is able to negotiate his way out of difficult situations as demonstrated so capably last night. I am proud of him. To admit wrongdoing and apologise for hurt to his father is a huge step. Many young men never take it.

He also said he would be willing in Italy to sign on one day for military service to balance the ledger for his father not having done it. It would also allow him his Italian passport and direct lineage back to his family Castle and titles. Doing military service in Italy is the material for a whole new blog... watch this space.

Dear Reader (me)

Thursday past was a very intriguing day. I had expected that after all the legal brouhaha I would simply be able to swing back into my expected life of study and focus.

WRONG.

Naive again.

There was an amazing emptiness and lethargy which swamped the emotional space where the adrenaline had been.

I should have realised that it would take a little time for my brain chemistry to re-adjust after so many years of 'fight or flight' patterns. But for a change I did not beat myself up about it.

Lately I could be considered even more selfish and self-focuses than usual... but this time it is not a bad thing. My core inner strenth and emotional stamina is re-balancing. It saddens me that one of the most influential and (previously) idolised women in my life seems totally unable to comprehend the effects and outcomes (mentally) on the life journey which seems to be drawing to a close. Again how foolish of me to not expect someone to fall precipitously from a pedestal I had created.

Why is it that I still equate high intellect with common bloody sense?

That is just plain stupid and demonstrably wrong.

I find that out every time I work at a University. I discover that IQ does not necessarily ensure EI, and whilst it is the conversations and wit of my brightest colleagues I enjoy, and thrive within those interactions, it is the very human compassion and empathy shown at work to me, by colleagues and scholars (who could be described as 'not so intellectually brilliant to the academic shining stars'), which is perhaps the most priceless gift they can give me. It is these 'real', 'down-to-earth', 'flawed' but 'special' people with high EI who are the 'friends' that support me when I need it most. You Lilydalers know who you are as do certain colleagues from interstate Unis, TAFEs etc.

When I am away it is these people I miss and cry for. The loneliness and compansionship lost is painful and I am stirred to drive for hours just for a few moments of shared comraderie. You all help recharge my psyche. I leave positive and ready to pickn up the pieces and move forward.

I hope one day I feel confident enough to say your names in print so that you can discover how much you have given me. I have learned a bitter lesson with two of my oldest friends (in the sense of known longest) that we can waste so many years by not speaking truthfully and openly about valuing friends attributes and love. WE wasted so many years battling the ups and downs of our lives alone, when we could have held each other up emtionally and been able to draw on this unique combined strength.

This is probably why I circulated a chain email about the most important women I would like to gather in one room. I could not limit it to the eight required. Sitting down I realised just how many women in my life at present were compassionate and sharing and each in their own way striving to change the world for the better. Even by just communicating within their nearest friendship group and sharing the wealth of life-experience and cultural understandings born from difference they were daily making me a better person and making the communty a better place. They were also nurturing the next generation to hopefully not make the mistakes made by ours.

As for the fewer males in my most valued friends/acquantance group, you were spared the chain email because "it was a woman-thing" but every word typed here is applicable to you all, also.

I can now say I am truly blessed to have had these women in my life, along with the others who did not make it to my 'global cabinet'(Rest assured you are all on my 'backbenches') who could indeed, together, change the world.

My main regret in life is that it has taken me so long to discover this cornerstone of human existence and I had missed the opportunity to value my deceased friends in the same way. I now understand how they also made me who I am today, and it is for them that my artefact will be written. My PhD will be completed. Yes, it is for me purely and simply, in the most career-driven motivation. But the content is my humble tribute to the friends I have lost and never made the effort to tell how valued they were.

Oh my goodness is this the beginning of wisdom... at last?

It is interesting that within the Magistrates Court of Victoria shield there is a kangaroo holding the Crown. What were they thinking given the colloquialism "kangaroo court"? Despite the official looking crest, I remain questioning whether justice is indeed blind.

Yesterday was the day from hell. My entire year seems to have hinged on this one precious day. I had to attend the Court with a family member, as support person and as the lawyer would have it, basic 'set dressing'. However, my role changed as the temperature of the hearing rose. I became a sworn witness, where every word needed to be weighted up carefully whilst keeping a constant look out for indicators on the Magistrates' face to his reactions to my words. I had to negotiate that tricky terrain where the truth needs to be spoken, but couched in a very carefully constructed manner thus allowing the best possible inferences to be made. Listening to the Magistrate's responses to my statements, it occurred to me how demonstrably useful a broad education is in life in critical times such as these.

My family member's lawyer told the Magistrate that I was articulate and intelligent and would be prudent to interview under oath. Those few descriptors alone made me realise that despite all pretence otherwise, having a hearing in the Court system in Australia may not be an example of a level playing field. In fact, those of us who could be considered demographically middle-class possibly have an advantage within the system as it is currently structured.

Whilst a witness under oath must tell the truth, that is not such a clear direction as it would appear on examination. There are many ways to tell the same truth, which is why lawyers are paid fees to do the best re-phrasing on their clients behalf. It appears to me that a legal representative briefed and allowed time to prepare the defence will always outperform the best intentioned legal aid or pro-bono duty lawyer assigned to cases on the actual day of the hearing. Thus financial capacity to pay becomes a determinant of positive legal outcomes. Add to this, articulate and intelligent witnesses able to carefully construct their responses under questioning, similarly becomes advantageous to the defendant's cause.

This cannot ever be a 'level playing field'. Yesterday, we were able to mobilise every possible and permissable advantage and my family member walked free, albeit with a suspended sentence. I feel confident that had this family member been represented by a duty lawyer,and had no 'witness', the outcome would have been very different, with the possibility of a years incarceration.

What fightened me and made the hearing more fraught, was that in summation, the very 'advantages' we took into the Court sounded like they would be brought into play as reasons denying mitigation. The Magistrate quite clearly outlined the lack of 'usual' disadvantage my family member suffered when compared to others who fronted the Court with similar charges. The implication being "you should have known better, and thus were more culpable". It looked bad for quite a while despite my best efforts.

Yet, in the end after a very forthright and well-deserved cautioning and reprimand, my family member was free to leave with only the slightest penalties incurred because of the recent (last twelve months) demonstrated 'attempt to change attitude and behaviour' and 'the very real possibility that incarceration at this age would almost certainly compound any negative societal attitudes upon release'.

The emotional energy expended in these hours was unable to be measured or adequately described here. There were swings from the deepest realms of fear and trepidation to the breath-withheld hiatus before the relief. It was again a painful and traumatic experience where I was completely emotionally invested in the entire proceedings. I could not be otherwise in the circumstances. The entire day was so draining that bed and sleep was definitely on the agenda very early last night.

The tears came only once under cross-examination when I was questioned as to my own actions within the lead-up years, and the usual form of female role guilt flooded to the surface. Then finally they feel tumultously and freely once curled inside the womb-like softness and darkness of the doona.

Today, I am feeling completely drained and a bit numb.

It has been hard to pick up 'normal' life.

But on the other hand, yesterday afternoon I read an academic journal article and made notes as I read through. This was the first time in months I knew I was retaining information.

That just reinforced for me, how much these last months 'in limbo' have contributed to my under-performance as a scholar, and even as a normal person.

I now know, and can proudly state, that I have done well to have managed to stay as 'well' as I have, and negotiated my way up and down my mood swings. Those who expected more from me in this time, can never understand or empathize with what the months since hospital have been like, or even what the last twelve months have been like with life 'on hold' so to speak.

Before this time it has been four to five years of actual abuse, violence, torment, self-doubt and stress. To think this is the time I made the choice to embark on a PhD! What an intelligent decision on my part.

Well people watch this space, I will conquer it all, but in my time, under my control, and not as demanded by external autthorities that have no insight into where I have been emotionally, mentally and physically. I envy those whose lives have minor glitches rather than major life shattering episodes. Yet at the same time I would not wish my last half decade on any woman (or man in my position and role).

Long Time no type...

Thanks Graeme!
Would you believe just when I thought my back injury was getting better, the phsyiotherapist decided that I needed stronger manipulation as I was still too stiff and too slow on recovery. That was last Monday, the 19th. Since then I have had the week from hell, (and I thought Carlo's birthday week was bad!)

For the uninitiated there ae many different common back injuries. Mine has nothing to so with disk injuries, or nerve damage. Trust me to do a 'somewhat harder to heal' injury. I have injured the actual joint where the spine bones meet, in what is described as a Facet (zygapophysial) Joint or facia plate injury. You could describe it as where those little sticking out bones of the spine connect together with the actual spine disks and vertebrae are, the flat faced overlocking bones (see diagram).

Graeme had given me some gentle ecercises and they had seemed to be doing okay, except after driving over 40 minutes (every trip to town or Lilydale) when the pain was acute. Well after his heat treatments and manipulations, and alignments last Monday I seem to be in a chronic state of pain, particularly of a morning when I have been relatively immobile over night. I now have two more excercises and even yoga seems beyond me at this point.I am still walkingr as excercise, but even the stair climbing is presenting a challenge. GRRRR!

So much for my wellness year.

On another front, the hypnotherapy seems to be having some desired effects. I can now 'go under' comparatively quickly. I am definitely feeling an increase in self-esteem and self-belief. I put it down to this treatment as I am doing nothing else different. I do feel that I am more than capable of completing my PhD in my chosen and preferred time span! I am adamant that I will not push to meet externally defined deadlines as this would be detrimental to my mental health. I know I will get there this year, along my own set of deadlines and my listed objectives. My PhD now has intrinsic merit again so I refuse to give this up for an externally motivated and extrinisic motivation.

My weight has stabilised, as unfortunately I have had to 'fess up that I was having too much saline inserted into the lap band monthly. I was so scared that if I didn't, the weight loss would stop, and I would put on weight again. I fear that so strongly that I was willing to overlook the problem of actually swallowing and digesting food! (Always knew I would be a great bullimic... if ever I could get that small issue called hunger under control).

Also, I know that during winter I am at risk of overindulgence as the SADS appears and I seek comfort from eating. Not that I am attacking 'bad' food, just calorie dense food unfortunately. Those bloody carbs! Rice, pasta, starches etc.

My focus this last fortnight has had to be, not so much on the weight losses and/or potential gains, but on the SADS. I cannot allow my mood-state to get so low that I am in the depression range. That is exactly what happened in the Mother's Day/Son's 21st birthday week (10-18 May). This week was a crisis point but I avoided hospital thanks to some dedicated attention from my medical team. Drs Bill, John and Caroline.

Another crucial decision saw me (when in both physical and mental pain) resorting to the Peninsula Hot Springs and spending one entire day sitting in various mineral pools ranging from 37 - 42 degrees. This together with sauna, Zen massager, and writing by hand rugged up in a fluffy towelling robe baking in winter sunlight (with sunscreen) allowed me to move up the scale back into 'normal range'.

My day was perfect.

It occurred to me that (what I had previously though exhorbitant) the annual membership was actually good value for money. It is $2000 p.a. which is less than one weekly visit for all day private bathing ($45 off peak Tues-Thurs). I could live happily with every alternate day at the Springs! Now I just need a job and a debit card with sufficient balance to avail myself of this facility.

Speaking of jobs, another reason the SADS descended, was not only related to the grey skies but my being trapped indoors working hard to present an first rate job application for a position advertised at Monash University. Anybody knowing my work history and qualifications would have thought the job description was written with me in mind... but I did not make the shortlist for an interview. I guess it was possible that people who could tick all the boxes would have to be holding a PhD and able to come in with a more developed research profile, than I have at this stage. So a reality check brought me down somewhat. The first job I had applied for and not gotten even an interview... SHEESH. That was a blow to the newly forming self-esteem.

This was followed by my own University offering two academic merit prizes for Postgrads. I cannot put in for either, as I have all the necessary components but not across the one academic year! I stretch across 2009/2010, and my accepted refereed journal article will not be published until Octiber so I can't document the index of article titles... I always seem to not fit the norm.

Next, I hear that one of our Supervisors has a PhD student in NZ with five refereed articles!

What's the bet s/he is a staff member of a University and is doing the PhD from work part-time? Beung a wage and salary earner, I would like to think any PhDer could produce work to that standard. But when we are full-time students daily grinding our way along the 3 year path, we haven't got a hope of focusing this much outside the PhD itself. Then to rub salt into the wound, this academic told me dismissively that the student wouldn't be interested in the $1000 prize. To those of us on stipend this is indeed a princely sum. Yet again the reality of economic and social disadvantage rears its ugly head, within the supposedly level playing field of academia.

All the time I come across examples where students, especially those from lower socio-economic groups, sole parents, those with domestic carer duties (okay I'll say it.... predominantly women) are disadvantaged systemically. We do not have a breadwinner partner to shore up the family finances and to help shoulder the domestic chores and nurturing duties so we can concentrate fully on our studies/careers.

IT ISN'T AND NEVER WILL BE A LEVEL PLAYING FIELD no matter how bright the candidate.

The more I confront this reality, the more times I am challenged to avoid falling into the grip of the black dog. I just get tired of fighting sometimes. The last two weeks have been just such a time. I can only fight on one front at a time , andat present the front is my physical health. Next priority is my mental health, then of course my son, and after that my studies and lastly, my future job prospects. If only academic supervisors and bosses really understood.

I most definitely am not a superwoman.

Two magnificent days

I'll bet this title surprises readers. Yes, that's correct I have had two very special days. Both were totally focused on pleasure and beauty.

Yesterday, I had my second hypnotherapy session which always leaves me calm and re-energised. I called in to Uni very briefly as yet again the distance between myself and former colleagues remains palpable (except one wonderful colleague who is down to earth and calls a spade a spade). We had a coffee together then I headed for the hills, literally.

I have organised a social function for PhD students next Thursday. It is a wine and cheese tasting. The Clubs officer suggested this as it required very little organising. Well not when I do it.

I decided that our vignerons and producers had had some rough times economcally since the bushfires and the least we could do is assist some of the smaller producers to promote their exceptional quality produce. The wines are not cheap and cannot compete with the bulk purchased NZ Sauv Blanc (wine glut) imports, but neither should they be compared.

The big chain liquor stores can turn over quantities that our smaller regional producers only dream about producing, and whereas each of our NZ imports does not totally guarantee single vineyard grapes or even total regional blend compatibility, our locals go to great lengths to produce some of the finest wines in the world.

Whilst I would never say no to quaffing a Marlborough Sauv Blanc or a Hawkes Bay Cab Merlot, it must be pointed out that our local boutique wines are made for cellaring. I just shared a bottle of Blanche Barkly (Bendigo) 2002 Johan Cabernet that I have cellared for the last nine years. I opened it and shared it with my son on a quiet evening last week post 21st kerfuffle. It was brilliant, so like a very expensive French Cote du Rhone... and it could have gone another 5 years! You do not get to open a bottle and drink that quality of wine without purchasing through the auction houses.

Thus I felt it might be a good opportunity to demonstrate the range of varieties produced in the Yarra Valley. And for them to be tasted as 'young' wines, I have organised some of the best locally produced smallgoods and cheeses to show each off to their best advantage.

So a social event with minimum organisation, not likely.

Yesterday I travelled the width and breadth of the Yarra Valley visiting members of the Small Vineyards Association to build a relationship with these producers.

I hope that in Spring this year, we can organise a larger full staff-tasting with a few vignerons actually presenting their wines and explaining their subtle differences. I have also tee'd up Richard Thomas, the Affineur (yep my newly acquired word for the day meaning cheese maker and connoisseur)from De Bortolli, to accompany the vintners and present some of his specially cellared and imported European cheeses. Our Head of Hospitality, Gage Rossiter (of the Channel 31 Wine Patrol) will also take us through a red wine vintage tour.

So to begin the collaborations needed for this later evening, I have made an initial contact with everybody and have requested two bottles of wine that the local vintners are proud of that represents the varieties produced across the region.

Needless to say there were a couple of tastings along the way and much temptation to begin rebuilding my home cellar holdings.


It was magnificent just travelling the country roads under towering Eucalypts, across green pastures and alongside entryways bordered by Autumnal colours of the vines themselves. The sky was dark grey and ponderous, the occasional rain shower seemed to arrive when I was safely inside my car, and the sun beamed when I stepped out to entered the various cellar doors, whilst rainbows split the sky. It was like a film where the cinematographer had planned it all. Every winemaker I spoke with was passionate about his/her vintages. We actually spoke longer than I had anticipated at each vineyard!

When I arrived late in the day at the Yarra Valley Dairy, just the smells in the air conjured up childhood memories. My father's best friend, Ken Watkins (Uncle Ken and Aunt Glenys) ran a dairy farm in Wild Dog Creek Road, Apollo Bay, Victoria.

On numerous school holidays and some Christmas breaks our family would stay at the farm. The memories of the milking shed there came flooding back with the very familiar scents and aromas. I even remembered the occasions when as a small child I was too weak to actually keep hold of the bottles and teats being voraciously sucked by the calves. It was wonderful to call forth those simple memories that have been absent for so long.

Then what a way to finish the day; at De Bortolli being spoiled by Richard. I tasted some magnificent Raclette (Australian!), some Spanish Manchego, a wonderful Swiss (will discover the name next week... as that was my treat piece to nibble in the car on the way home to the Mornington Peninsula... thanks Richard!), some very interesting Brie from Normandie (that also accompanied me home in its box), and lastly an intriguing blue from the Strezlecki... wow what a range and sensational experience.

It was all so Australian, yet redolent of my European travels as a young woman when I was beginning to develop my palate. A totally perfect day. So relaxing and so full of passion and beauty. I remain inspired, even today.

So for another fix of Francophilia I book into Ella Bache to use my mother's day voucher. Ah, such pampering (after first getting my head straight with a psychiatrist appointment). I guess both are pampering, each in a different way. One emotional and intellectual and the latter, tactile and sensual.

I feel so feminine now as well as feeling very privileged to have wound up the week with such quality 'me-time', even though the excuse for the Yarra Valley jaunt was our social evening next week.

On Tuesday I am determined to take my digital camera (and my glasses as I can't focus the thing without them), up again and shoot some pics to create a display board to accompany the produce I collect next Thursday. Wow, two trips through beautiful Victorian countryside in one week. I am blessed.

Needless to say I will travel on my own so that nobody can taint this truly magic feeling of freedom.

In the email today

... yep, inspiration and advise seems to find me when I need it most. Now this has to have come via The Graces!

What work-life balance? (It's all one pond.)

Wednesday 12th May 2010

I went on a retreat a few weeks ago, and it was just the thing for recalibrating my energy, focus and enthusiasm. What is was not about was work-life balance, because I don't think that's the right paradigm for my life, and maybe not for yours, either.

For me, it's about choosing in a more flexible way, day to day, how to allocate time between the different parts of my life - client work, writing my book, working on my business, family, friends, downtime (and currently of course, Masterchef!). I used to think of it as making work-life choices, but now I've taken it a step further.

While I was on retreat, I had a chat to Venerable You, a Buddhist nun I met last year when I presented a couple of workshops at the Australian Youth Buddhist Conference at Portsea. Venerable You is a most practical and also inspired teacher, a combo that appeals greatly to me. (She is also very amusing...)

We were talking about fitting meditation and reflection into a busy life, and she mentioned that she saw it all as 'just one pond'. A lightbulb moment. Just one pond. Not divvying up time between this compartment or that, finishing 'work' so you can move onto 'life'. Just one pond. For me, a window opened somewhere, bringing a sense of flexibility I hadn't had for a while.

In any moment, on any day, you can move fluidly from one area into another, and back again. You can respond as needed in any part of life. You can follow your sense of what needs to happen next, or what suits your frame of mind. So some days it's all about my book, and on others the focus is on client needs, or cooking a new risotto, or preparing for a creative thinking workshop, or going to a movie with my son or a friend. But there's no weighing it all up to find that perfect (mythical?) balance; whatever needs to happen on a given day, happens.

And if you are cultivating mindfulness, say, or patience, then you cultivate it in every part of your 'work' and your 'life', not just carve out 20 minutes for it each morning.

Just one pond. Utopian maybe, but so far, it works for me.

http://workincolour.com.au/blog/post/65/what-worklife-balance-its-all-one-pond/

Another 'Fryday' even though it is Wednesday...

Yesterday was another of those meetings where I got to witness just how many work hours are bogged down by management people just ensuring that i's are dotted and t's are crossed to ensure compliance with institutional policies, frameworks and practices.
It was interesting to see how the biggest fear infecting discussions and decision-making procedures is PRECEDENT....

Some times circumstances just do not fit neatly into boxes created by monolithic institutions and institutional thought totally dominates and stops innovative and creative responses.

I cannot be specific about any of the particular academic issues discussed but it also brings into sharp focus the need to 'be seen to be operating fairly across ALL disciplines' and for policy to be CONSISTENT across disciplines.... even when disciplines themselves are so radically different as are their ways of being taught. One model cannot fit all.... no matter what the more bureaucrats amongst us say. This is a ludicrous guiding assumption that ensures that Universities do not function at the highest level of innovation... there are inbuilt biases against exactly thattype of 'out of the box' thinking.

That my particular discipline cluster is Creative Arts, it immediately becomes obvious how (literally) soul-destroying such meetings are for me to participate in, and to observe exactly how some terms and conditions are used to systemically discriminate against our preferred disciplines and skill sets.


Who decides on artistic abilities and hence Quality Assurance of a degree... based upon what insight or experience?

Why do arbitrary limits and demands HAVE to be adhered to if a case can be made that better demonstrates merit or competence?

I simply have to get back to working in research disputing the corporate managerialsit mindset that infects our Universities... please someone hire me. We can never achieve a sustainable and equitable nation where all young people (and formally excluded older people) can access the highest level of education in their recognised fields of expertise whislt bureaucratic blinkers remain the decision filters. Enhanced cultural capital is not such a bad goal for 21st century Australia and I want to be at the vanguard of this recognition... not a victim of marginalisation and tokenism.

This is exactly the head-space where I am in danger of 'dropping my bundle' when the world appears so out of sync with my beliefs, abilities and sensibilities.

I am so glad the sun is shining. I am feeling like I can draw on some shreds of energy left to get back on my 'campaign horse' and write it out of my system... but I must act quickly before the angst puddles and pulls me down into my stagnant sludge of apathy.

This invariably leads to the bottom-ward gradient on my mood-state graph. Let's just say today, after yesterday I am sitting at about a -2!

Add to this, today is the 'chosen day' my son wants to dine out for his 21st (with father, ex-boss and wife), an evening I am not 100% looking forward to. Well now, I feel as if by speaking about it (and viewing it) in such a negative way, I have caused The Fates (or would that be The Furies?) to reign down their displeasure...

... My son's boss's wife's sister (wow, so many possessive apostrophes in one clause) has come to visit her, and as many family events can be, the timing is very bad to get out of this commitment, so my son's dinner out is not viable under the circumstances. They have had to postpone.

Next, his father still wants to go out as he is looking forward to it (for him of course, not my son). I can't eat most of the food there and my son couldn't give a shit to go out with his father. So I will have a disappointed son arrive home soon, a likely fraught exchange between everybody later and most probably a dinner for three of us who really don't like sharing a dining table anyway!

Next complication not so easily

My son is keen to cook for a friend to thank her and her husband for his birthday gift (which neither of us were expecting).

He does not know how to actually say Thank you, it seems out of his lexicon, so he wanted ME to ring her up and say thanks on his behalf!(Cooking is his only way of saying thanks when I think about it) Yeah sure... I am about to do more family emotional upkeep, I think not. It would be so simple if I could just ask these two friends to dinner but that means the whole 'ex-boss and wife' thing would have to be postponed (which it obviously has to be)... and I will be up for two or three dinners at this lovely restaurant where I cant eat (or drink... as I am designated driver).

And to think in my last blog I believed the big frantic emotional days of 2010 were about to subside into memeory, and the tense 'don't mention the elephant' state descended upon us for another fortnight or so.

And people wonder why I see my hospital stays as a spell in a tranquil haven.

Perhaps reading these blogs not only will my friends gain and insight into Bipolar Mood Disporder, but into an understanding of my life also. Yep, I need to wallow in sympathy at present so I feel valued.

And if in the text above I have used any split infinitives... today's news is that the Australian Government Style Manual for 2010 allows them. Now I just have to work out what they are!

The two BIG days are nearly over for 2010.

Well, Mother's Day has come and gone and I have managed to not suffer depression. (Remember Depession is merely anger without enthusiasm! Thanks to Good Quotes.com) See I can't even dredge up the energy for my own witty repartee! Unlike my dear mentor Maxine I did not resort to a bottle of wine, or indeed any alcohol. That would have been a dangerous move, especially given how fraught the household has been lately. I was given my favourite gift and am really grateful for it, but it strikes me that my son's father popped in the shop and parted with the cash... The card just doesn't seen like the usual ones selected by my son... (they tend to have very sharp sarcascastic yet funny tag lines)... this one was a tad soppy!

So I guess my son saying he HATES birthdays and all the other celebrations, decided to include Mother's Day in his boycot this year. What is about males that can't see that even token gestures are better than none at all? And despite the commerialism, as a Mum, it is actually the one day of the year when we can be thanked for just being there. So much for that idea.

So, without getting drunk, how did I celebrate?

A television marathon of crap. Foxtel didn't even schedule one single women's movie or chick flick... I guess only LOSER MUMS would be sitting at home with the TV.... Yep, that sounds about right.

Add to this no specially-prepared meals. My son played his usual MRPG game schedule and ate in his room, and I alone in the lounge... not alone I was with the cats... How clicheed is that? Cats and TV?

the best bit...Mother's Day watching three hours of Love's Labours Lost from the Globe Theatre in London... oh well, I could pretend I was in London if nothing else.

Even the night didn't pan out. I had hoped to go to see a comedy benefit in Brunswick to raise funds for battling racism against asylum seekers but I could not motivate myself to go out alone.

So early to bed... after watching the last episode of Stephen Fry in America.

His doco on Bi Polar is on again on Wednesday on the BIO network. I wish I could watch it again as I usually come away motivated and determined to live well... but wouldn't you know Wednesday night is supposed to be the delayed 21st dinner with son, his father, his ex-boss and wife.

Great, after the last verbal tirade I am really looking forward to Chinese food I mostly cannot eat (seafood anaphylaxis) and me the designated driver. Oh fun!

Which brings me to the second andEVEN BIGGER DAY. Today, my son turns 21 and of course didn't want a party, or any such waste of money. He did willingly accept the iphone a few weeks ago, I notice... and the ongoing monthly prepay account. Hmmm..."methinks he doth protest too much."

Then this morning just so he didn't have to go to his TAFE without so much as an acknowledgement of the day, I rose and had a small token gift for him to open. He was too late and shrugged... when I come home eh? So much for that.

This will not go well either. I bought some clothing from a surf shop and now that shop has closed down. What were my son's sizes some weeks ago seem to be one size too small now! Great, let's remind him he has put on weight. Great call Mother! Also added a book he would have loved in another career incarnation... but not now.

Missed the whole thing really, so tonight will again be fraught... perhaps alcohol is the way ahead on this occasion.

His father is not home and has already done the... "poor me... to think I am here to see him turn 21... I thought I would be dead by now". Instead of great, we both (son & I) knew you would make it, I looked at him in disbelief... yep WE WERE BOTH THERE when the heart surgeon announced six months in 2001 and we went into debt to get the males to Italy for the big family goodbye!

Speaking of being self-obsessed... over this last fortnight I have put on 1 1/2 kgs!!! Emotional eating! So I feel like shit. Bring on Wednesdays hypnotherapy... I need you Caroline.

Tonight son and I are on our own for THE 21st (with FAT CLOTHES!) which seems actually more realistic and logical... but I am unsure whether to go all out as it would be me 'wasting money again' like the 'illogical c..t' I was called last week.


As a fall back I have made chocolate mousse... please set!

Remember when you look at the suburban houses with their manicured lawns, a dysfunctional family like mine is probably sheltering inside behind the drawn curtains.

"Suburbia - where they cut down trees and name streets after them."

Pretty in Pink

Just when I thought I was in for one of those weekends, I wake to a wonderful image on the front of the newspapers. To see 14,000 people prepared to pay $50 and brave the Melbourne winter to raise money and awareness for breast cancer just re-affirms to me there are wonderful people in our community. How I would like to know more of such people. They are self-less and caring and prepared to back their beliefs all the way.

It takes some doing to travel to, parkthe car and attend the MCG on a cold Friday night. Well done all.

I should have joined you instead of sitting home and weeping because my plans went awry.I'm sure that the evening at work was quite entertaining but perhaps it would not have been as uplifting as going by train to the MCG. I'm sure they would have accepted a cheque and I could have covered it on Monday. Thus I would not have had to sit at home being berated for my selfishness and falling into a childish sulk.

I would willingly have spent this $50, as I probably would have had to spend that just to go to the work 'do' ($25 fuel, $10 tolls, $20 alcohol and then perhaps some food to soak up the damage.)

The thing that sticks in my craw [what's a bloody craw???] is that despite my tears and tantrum last night at missing the 'do', I would not have been missed.

It was more about me reaching out to feel connected than actually celebrating the occasion.

Perhaps I need to disconnect even further, emotionally.

Whilst my work colleagues have been supportive, there is room for only the occasional 'basket case' moment per friendship group. It is tiresome to always be worrying about an acquaintance, and that is all I will ever be out there. Deeper friendships require a common belief system, common social and political views and intrinsic ethical similarities. I can now honestly say, apart from sharing a work space and numerous laughs, I am often the odd-one out. AGAIN!!

I seem to take life 'too seriously', and do not adhere to the Aussie drinking and smoking culture. I am more happy sitting in a restaurant/ bistro sharing a good bottle of wine over stimulating conversation than sitting chugging down drinks whilst seeing who can come up with the sharpest put-down lines. Whereas lately I have happily worn being the brunt of many jokes... I am getting over that. I need to feel valued for who I am.

My body, illness and age are not going to be the subject of cheap jibes any more. Yes my calves are large but hey, I am working on it! Are you similarly striving to improve your health? How long have I sat on this little hurt? Months!

So in the cold hard light of a new day, I can see another chapter of my life drawing to a close. I just wish I had a sneak preview of what lies ahead. Is a new door beginning to creak open? If so where?

It is so hard to trust that all your efforts are not wasted and that the time spent will come together.

It certainly felt like all my skills were going to be recognised in the communications dept at work but that did not happen. I was caught up in the excitement of the promises and possibilities but there was no actual existing emloyment.

Also, I feel that my work skills remain undervalued within the public sector, yet I am too frightened to step outside the comfort zone of 'the ivory tower'.... and a regional one at that.


It is surprising just how much my self-esteem has fallen since being an 'at-home' Mum. is it any wonder I became morbidly obese... I hated myself. I wanted this 'no-body' to just disappear or die.

I am aware how dangerous it is to attach one's self-worth to employment and career, having made this mistake before in the '80s, but it seems to be a lesson I am very slow to learn.

In the same way I must take care not to define myself through a lack also, the lack of a significant other. Interestin this lack of partner is also held up in sharp focus at work... hmmmm, I wonder what that is telling me? Economically, I mean?

When I venture down the Main Street of Sorrento I get sharp pangs of jealousy as I see the 50ish couples sharing their Saturday morning lattes in the sunshine at the various cafes. These people dress well, in casual chique leisure-wear, read the broadsheets and generally seem so comfortable in their skin and with each other.

It is my fantasy, to have such a relationship, and the economic freedom to indulge in this past-time in one of my favourite locations (out of holiday season).

How can I become comfortable with who I am and not focus on what I do not have?

My wellness routine must find a way to deal with loneliness and I need to develop more resiliance. I have spent the last 30 odd years defining myself by what I do, or by the role I have... "sole-parent, welfare-Mum, single-mother, fat-Centrelink slob" , failure at relationships". Yet I want to be seen for who I am. Caring, giving, concerned, with a social conscience, commitment to equity and justice, and above all.. FEMININE!

Am I asking too much?

Why does this not seen 'enough'... after all I am physically healthy.

Unlike the people at the MCG last night whose lives have been touched by illness and tragedy, at least with my illness I am a survivor.

Another missed post yesterday...

This time it was understandable. I did not even turn the pc on before leaving the house. It was a Court visit day and everything was sort of 'on hold'. It is very easy to underestimate the stress such an ocurrence can have on everyone, the actual participant/defendant and the family. It seems that as a woman I will always be decsribed as emotional and over-reacting. Okay, my illness can have that effect but I am also allowed the usual extremes of emotion that non-Bipolar people have in these situations.

How is it that males, in particular, do not see how difficult it is to 'read' the silences and gaps in a person's conversation, especially when the actions are totally out of sync with the words? It is tiring constantly having to guess what is the correct response and course of action. You are often damned if you do the 'right' thing and damned if you make a faux pas.

In the end I have to trust my instinct and take on the chin any expressions of anger, hostility and judgement that ineviatbly flows my way. I must be able to understand that often the only safe release valve is to 'pay out' on your nearest and closest relation... after all, isn't that a way of testing steadfastness?

How long does one have to prove oneself? When does the male take ownership of his emotional baggage? Is there an age, or does it depend on life experiences? When does tough love backfire? Having used that before has that coloured and damaged my relationship now? Because I wasn't there before... how can anyone be certain I am actually 'there' emotionally and spiritually? Why does all this emotional caretaking fall on the shoulders of women in families? And when we buckle under the weight of these expectations and demands, we are irrational and hysterical.

Ah hysteria... thanks Dr Feud for the bad wrap.

Part of my wellness program is to really dig deep and monitor my emotional highs and lows, yet this becomes so very confronting and even exhausting. Today after yesterday's ordeal I could barely rise from bed this morning. I just wanted to cover up under the doona and pretend the world didn't exist.

I managed to use a whole morning doing exactly this, until I rose, showered and set about making a cake to mark a wonderful liberation from the justice system for a colleague and friend. But wouldn't you know it... the cake failed. And I did what any self-respecting woman would do... I cried. Yep, over the bloody cake.

Then I cried because I didn't have enough cash to buy another, or time to bake another.

I showered again and dressed to the nines to attend the party. After much primping and arguing with clothes which drew attention to where I still have weight left to lose, I decided on a reasonable looking mode of attire. all the time another work colleague's flippant comment about my calves being bigger than she has thought hung ominously in the air... Despite a 40 kg loss my body image problems are still evident... and I cried again.

Back to bathroom, reapply mascara, and get emotionally prepared to join the outside world. But of course my son is late home with the car and has used the petrol needed for my outing. And I have no cash until Monday, and he has only $10, not enough to make the return trip.

What follows is a tirade in which I am called an illogical c..., who never has any money and how stupid to drive to Lilydale just to do social things. Who needs to waste money so blatantly... yep, that pressed that 'bad parent' button again.

Around and around goes the argument that having miscalculated my cash situation was not the issue. I indeed had a right to go where I want, when I want in MY car, with no need for explanation or justification. Why should I have to defend myself? Part of my wellness is to maintain some semblance of normalcy and that includes meeting up with former work colleagues occasionally. Yet, not in my home. It is a waste of money... MY BLOODY MONEY... I put the tank of petrol in the car in readiness... the tank full that my son used going to his educational institution! Of course that is a priority also, but why do I always feel I must sacrifice myself.

So hours have passed, teas fallen... AGAIN, then the child's father gets home and buys into the act. Next we have all out war over the coming 21st birthday. According to my son, again a waste of money when no c...s have a cent at the end of each week.

I pay the bills and budget for things like Christmas and birthdays so my son (and his father) never miss out on what other normal families have.... yet again I am the STUPID ILLOGICAL C..T. Not only that, I nam condemned for organising a dinner for my son with his ex-boss and his wife, along with the three of us. That's a waste on money too. Given that said 'wife' and I are political opposites and many, many topics of conversation offend me and make me want to stand up and fight... I am then called a hypocryte for even pretending to be polite on such an occasion. Apparently, I should be HONEST and not go or organise this birthday outing. So I am irrational, illogical and a hypocryte. Geesh... good evening after yesterday huh?

So needless to say, I shower again, removed the streaked make-up and unsoiled social attire, wash the product out of my hair and retire to my study, like a good sensible poor person!

Can you now see how it is possible to move from a 0 to -2 then +2 THEN CRASH BACK DOWN to -4. The cycles are not daily or weekly, at times of extreme stress they can be this unpredictable... So here I sit at keyboard, again crying and feeling sorry for myself.

If I had enough petrol, I would just run away... ah but to where? That's exactly how I can get myslef into all sorts of trouble. So I am now going to return to the beloved sanctuary of the doona, and attempt a relaxtion excercise. And if that fails the wondrous sleeping tablet.

Can someone give me strength to know which way ahead through the 21st birthday nightmare!

Inspiration for today

Okay it's not my own words but it is exactly where my focus is this week, especially today. When all my 'personal environments' are listed, is it any wonder that I feel out of control on so many fronts, and how an excess of pressure/distress in any of these sends all my best laid plans and resolutions out the proverbial window?

http://workincolour.com.au/blog/post/64/succeed-dont-fail/

At last I can stop berrating myself. It is not that I have no willpower... it is just that I am not thinking clearly and determining (or valueng) the most urgent front on which to invest my emotional and physical energy... Inevitably the PhD will often seem off the radar in the mix. How normal is that? Rather than mentally despair, I just need a more holistic overview and maintain my mental strength and wellness.
(Tomorrow is a big day after all and the lead up has been energy sapping).

I also need to feel confident that when everything is under control (to an extent) then I can achieve at the highest level academically... and maybe there are days and even weeks when this is not humanly possible! This being one of them.

Wonder women....

I guess today has been one of those days when life seems to be art. I can now see how all my experiences from meeting a diverse group of women throughout my periods of hospitalisation, has shaped my understanding of women characters. The very essence of these women are beginning to find their place inside the lives of my fictional characters. When these real life women speak, their stories are those of my characters. It is what makes my artefact work (my PhD novel) so difficult to pull together.

On the one hand I have this need to be true to the people whose lives have driven me to commit them to paper. Yet, I also need to strive for verisimilitude and realism. This means that I am cannibalising all my lived experiences and interpersonal interactions. I feel guilty that I am 'using' people and exploiting their moments of vulnerability... yet somehow this vulnerability strikes me as being the essence of Everywoman's experience. I have capitalised the E to draw comparisons to the medieval mystery plays' Everyman.

I am attempting to get onto paper the very essence of male/female relationships and the inherent miscommunication and misunderstandings that come to the fore during periods of crisis and stress.

Whilst I sit here at the keyboard I can pontificate and even generalise as suits my purpose as 'narrator' yet I know that as people read these words and those of my novel I need them to identify and even feel that I have 'stolen' from their stories. the essence has to be THAT REAL for my linear plot development to hang together.

I guess this is why my PhD supervisor is asking me to think about utilising fictocritism as my guiding frame.

"Creative nonfiction differs from fiction because it is necessarily and scrupulously accurate and the presentation of information, a teaching element to readers, is paramount. Creative nonfiction differs from traditional reportage, however, because balance is unnecessary and subjectivity is not only permitted but encouraged." Guttkind 1997.

So for the sake of 'scrupulous accuracy' I must use my experience from the talking therapy sessions with my co-patients but must also divorce the key issues and themes from the personal spaces. I need to take a type of Brechtian approach, in that my very selectivity is the space where the author speaks, and where I would contend the TRUTH is revealed in all its' subjective glory. It is my notion of TRUTH and my reading of women's experience based on years of research fieldwork, if you will. My mind is trawling through virtual diary notes and interview transcripts to create the WOMAN'S lived experience in text.

So when I discuss the fact that from my perspective I can easily see how the psychological term hysteria came to be gendered according to female anatomy and biochemistry. What I can also see is how the patriarchy used it to denigrate women's emotions and reactions to stressful situations.

I have seen today, just how many women are totally distressed by their familial relationships and domestic expectations and the price they pay for this societal pressure is personally immense and damaging. One could almost state that Depression seemes intrinsically linked to the middle-class female role in C21st Australia, but that would be to ignore that men do suffer from role pressures and mental illness.

Are women more vulnerable to the disconnect between expectations (familial, social and self) and actual roles in life than men?

If so, why?

To me from my observor/particpant-viewpoint, perhaps the very brain chemistry (or neurological wiring) which enables women to multi-task, and to have more prominantly developed communication areas of the cerebral cortex complete with 'more traffic' crossing the corpus callosum is responsible for some type of neurological 'blackout' or 'short'? Is that the medical the basis for the stress overload so often articulated by women in hospital? Is there actual research on this? If so I need to find it.

These ideas and questions need to be carefully thought through as I write my way through this gender minefield. Watch this space.... I need another 'ablution breakthrough illumination'.

Two full days to go...

Well this symbolises my attitude today. I have been to THAT meeting at Hawthorn which is enough to turn your stomach... the generation gap is so profound that the ideology at play is quite discomforting. Why do humans (mostly male) seek hierarchical power for their own agendas? Luckily there were some intelligent (meaning they agreed with me) young men at the Roundtable.

We even had a visit by a member of staff from Strategic Planning and Governance to trial a student survey of Teaching and Learning quality and student (client) expectations....Where do these supposed experts get off?

Firstly, the wording of the questionaire was appalling, and bureaucratic.
Next, the way the possible replies were structured forced answers towards the positive scale ( 4 out of 5 possible responses), and there was of course no room to expand on your 'value' attributed to each 'quality'.

If this doesn't scream blatant attempt to gain statistics for marketing purposes I'll go 'he'.

Also concerning is that all of a sudden when the Feds decide to tie funding to excellence in teaching the bureaucrats and middle level admins decide they need quantitative stats as measures... after all they need only take a moment to analyse when there are so few questions and permuations of answers. What a load of crap. What worries me is these people seem oblivious to the whole inadequacy of their research methodology to actually measure the 'real' situation... or they are too scared to do so and publicise the outcome? That would mean decisions and bucks needing to stop being passed.

Next came a trip to Lilydale which seems to be an isolated little haven, so detached from the 'POWER HUB' of decision-making.

Yet the 'haven' imagery is a deceptive smoke screen.

How can anything be achieved on a policy-input level when the entire Campus is seen as a 'problem to be dealt with' or 'micro-managed' by the people in power at Hawthorn. How can positive reputation be restored when a few academics are intent on eating their own?

So you see, all I want to do this evening is bitch... and I have the LACK OF FINGER NAILS to prove my frustration levels.

...Meanwhile, life is supposed to go along normally, when in amongst all this tedium our family is gathering statements and evidence for Thursday. Crossing t's and dotting i's to attempt the smallest legal bill possible. The more we chase up, the cheaper the fees (at least that's what I am hoping). It's really a zero sum game at this stage, with the outlay totally necessary yet the outcome far from assured.

In amongst all this there is even talk of THE 21ST... all of a sudden. Thanks for the warning to start saving, especially as we all know who will be footing the legal bills. Speaking of frustrating malkes again... (he [the lawyer] wants the cash on the day... come on, what about invoices and 14 days to pay? Surely I could be sued for breach of contract should I not cough up?)



Oh, and just how many other hurdles are going to be placed in front of me in the coming days? And how can I seriously believe my wellness program (Yoga and Art Therapy) will hold up, especially when the Phsyio is also determined to check my back injury with his 'gentle pressure'?

To quote my favourite old broad... "I bitch therefore I am".... (sorry Descartes!)

The Scales of Justice

It would be very reassuring to be able to believe that justice is actually blind and fairness and equity reign in our Legal System, however that belief would be an ill-informed and naive one. The system here in Australia (albeit one of the world's best)is often found lacking. Just ask Nicola Gobbo! If the daughter of a famous Supreme Court Judge can be let down by the inbuilt checks and balances then what hope for us mere lowly commoners?

This week just concluded, I have become aware of several instances where the only winners from the Justice system would appear to be the lawyers. Despite the promised additional funds to Victorian Legal Aid, the law remains a very divided and inequitable system. The defendant or petitioner with the deepest pockets is ALWAYS assured to win, simply through the ability to ride the stakes high.

One friend has had to face the ignominity of facing the Courts for a Domestic Violence Intervention Order against her drug-abusing ex-partner. She has had guns pulled to her head and been beaten when sex was not forthcoming on demand. She was forced to flee her home with two small children under primary age, and propelled into the not-so cheap private rental market and onto the Sole Parent Pension.

She is trying to study to gain her financial independence but she cannot raise enough funds to ensure that she ends up with an adequate property settlement. Her chldcare costs are not covered by her study incentive payments from Centrelink.

Gee thanks Rudd Govt. for the help up out of abuse and poverty... reminds me of Howard Govt policies!

Her ex-partner has chosen to be unemployed (at least not visible on books) so that the bank repossesses the house (which he is sharing with his current girlfriend and her two children), and not be required to pay maintainance.

Where is the justice in this situation? The bank has first claim, then my friend has to fight tooth and nail for a fair distribution of joint assets. Just to add insult to injury, all the while a stranger's children sleep in the rooms she had designed for her two girls and beds she had bought for them!

The next instance again involves a friend and a legal battle with another embittered male family member. She has two legal battles raging at once.

After the death of her beloved mother she was named sole beneficiary of her parents estate (due to specified and articulated concerns with respect to her brothers history of substance abuse). Her mother had specifically stated that he be left no money or call upon the Estate as the family had supported him, beyond all reasonable expectations over many, many years throughout his addiction. Now the minute the Will is read, he decides to 'go clean' and begin blood and hair testing in order to challenge the Will. Somewhere he managed to find a 'no win, no fee' lawyer to represent him in this small matter. Suddenly the case is turned on its head. The deceased's intent and specifications are deemed less relevant than the amount of money it will take to fight through the Courts. A sum of $50,000 has already been mentioned as to the brother's current costs. Given that the Estate is worth around $300,000 and my friend's lawyer has pointed out that the legal fees could end up in the hundreds of thousands should she wish to pursue her mothers wishes! What crap is that? What is the point of a Will after all?

I remember asking this very question with respect to my own mother's will, when my dearest beloved brother challenged the will, then left his share of my parents Estate to his drug-abusing children (at the expense of my son and I). And I thought it was simply a Queensland problem, as my $5,000 barrister suggested. Wrong, it seems endemic.

Can one's wishes be so easily overturned upon death? Apparently so, if you have lawyers prepared to fight for every cent from the Estate. There are no winners here, (apart from said lawyers).

My poor friend has to go through it all again, this time with the dear old Family Court for divorce proceedings. Let's hope advocacy can achieve a sensible and just outcome and keep the lawyers involvement to a minimum. She has worked for over 30 years and may have very little to show for it after this little war.

Another friend begins her wait for a legal adjournment this week, temporarily delaying her Fate being meted out by Blind Justice. How can she be so calm in the face of this stuff... or is it a case of why sweat what you cannot control? C'est La Vie! If only I was that type of personality... but I fight to the death.

Lastly, I begin the countdown to our own family legal battle. 3 full days to go. And yes I have had to bring in the lawyer (hopefully with all guns blazing). It is our only chance for a good outcome. Yet, I fear that the cost of achieving this will be substantial, and I will be carrying yet another debt burdon for some months to come, but hey, how could I sit on my hands and trust to the luck of Legal Aid representation? I need to pull out all the stops available to the middle classes.

Over the coming days and nights, I just have to attempt to sleep and function normally so I will be attending to my wellness routines even more strictly than usual. Monday will be meditation, and gentle excercise (post Physio), Tuesday is Yoga and physio (again), then Wednesday Art therapy.

Then the BIG DAY... please send good wishes our way for Thursday 6th.

Then and only then can I begin to think about 21st birthday celebrations and Mother's Day. One step at a time is the week's motto.