Only connect

I heard on ABC radio last week that anyone who spoke about class in Australia today is seen as an intellectual lepper.. an out of touch old Marxist with too simplistic an understanding of 'modern society'. Well I am sorry I do not agree. There is nothing simplistic about understanding the ramifications of an economic system based on profits and pure capitalism, when even Governments watch fiscal bottom lines rather than social responsibilities. It may have been naive to position Communism as the desirable social model but hey let's not throw the proverbial baby out with the bathwater!

This occurred in a week when at University my supervisor told me my writing was basically "all over the shop", disjointed and even random... or more precisely confused and disorganised.

Perhaps it is/was. But I cannot accept that speaking about class and social capital in the C21st century is outmoded. maybe if one lives a cossetted middle-class existence in a comfy gentrifying inner suburb with sufficient income to make ends meet, say six figures... it may appear that way.

But I live in a different milieu one that uncomfortably straddles two classes... the comfortable middle class bourgeoisie and the working poor and unemployed underclass. And whilst it is simplistic to claim that social problems are exclusively found in a particular class, there can be no denying that by having access to education and income life choices offer a greater choice of escape routes, chosen or not. It is having options that allow freedom, power and self-determination.

Many women, by virtue of holding the lesser financially stable (or even viable) position are constrained in their choices but by far the most severe cases where gender intersects with economics is in the area of class. I will never turn my back on this class war as a 70s style feminist. And whislt disagreeing with many women's choices I can at least understand them and empathise with their situations.

Does that make my novel's themes irrelevant today... or are they deemed passe, unacceptable or just plain unfashionable? So now we have 'acceptable victims of society' and 'unacceptable victims of society'.

It seems to play out like this in my mind; there are those who have 'had things done to them by society (usually in the name of good intentions), like the stolen generations and the forgotten children. These are the 'deserving victims of Australia'. In this camp are the 'good refugees', those fleeing war and persecution but arriving via the controlled screening methods. Then there are the 'undeserving victims'... the slackers, dole bludgers, dollar-driven welfare mothers and the queue jumpers.

How powerful is the rhetoric? But wait deconstruct it a bit further... especially the welfare recipients classification. Could not the term underlass be substituted? If this term is mobilised then society indeed has had an active role in constructing their position and power (or lack thereof). They too have been 'done unto' and not always in the guise of good intentions.

What happens when progressive Governments send manufacturing offshore where labor costs are significantly cheaper for Industry? We have a generation or two of workers who were content to work on the production lines... many even took pride in their labour, going home each day knowing that there was something solid to show for their exertion. Many even prided themselves on their dexterity and skill sets, along with a sense of purpose in financially providing for their families.

Now I am not speaking gender here... just what appears to me a middle-class devaluing of unskilled trades which drove our economic policies (and most other Western nations in the eighties, nineties and now).

Many female workers were exploited on factory floors and in machine shops but the Unions gave them a voice. We obtained (in theory) equal pay and maternity leave provisions, sick leave, hilday leave and the 38 hour week through the collective actions of bothe women and men unionists standing side by side to obtain a better work-life balance.

At the beginning of the C21st we have an emasculated Union movement and an exploited and fearful labourforce, with unskilled laborers confined to casualised and lowly paid service sector jobs. No-one works 38 hours as full-time employment these days... not even the boureoisie, many of whom are at their desks until well after 6pm at night, just to ensure they are perceived as taking their employment responsibilities seriously.

And what of those in our community whose parents cannot sustain employment for whatever reason.... housing instability due to suburban gentrification, negative gearing and escalating rental prices, reliance on poor public transport infrastructure or choices between affording and running a car and housing costs close to work opportunities?

When do the YUPPIES and DINKS recognise that not everybody has the same choices?

Just this week I attended a Magistrates Court and yet again the unequality is there in full view. The disenfranchised appear with monotonous regularity, their lives seemingly 'medicated' by booze and drugs. Next the downward spiral of legal costs, court hearings, records, bail, probation, criminal records, decreased employment opportunities whilst participating in Court Mandated 'mutual obligations' or ' community services' which in turn imapct negatively on Centrelink work diaries and 'preparedness for work'. Catch 22. Lack of employment due to track record.

Add in poor or little education, severe learning disabilities, mental illness, drug addiction and domestic violence and sexual abuse and then tell me that these people are 'underserving victims' of our society.

Today I have had a phone conversation with an acquaintance who is a single mother of two beautiful little girls. She is trying to study part-time to gain better employment opportunities whilst using the amount of child care she can afford on her Centrelink payment whilst paying private rental and trying to keep her car on the road. She is a single mother as a result of living in an abusive relationship (where the girls' father abused alcohol and drugs). He also threatened her many times with a registered fire arm kept in the house... as the gun must be kept at the house of the license holder (suburbia) even when it is deemed necessary for shooting feral animals and vermin on his family's farm some two hours drive away.

Yep, that's a safe home in this circumstance isn't it?

This man had his gun license suspended whilst having an alcohol interlock device fitted to his car... but now that his family have left him through fear, the Courts have deemed it safe to return his gun license! He has threatened his ex-wife's life with the bloody thing. She has an intervention order which he willfully ignores and the local police (who are frantically busy) ignore repeated calls to address his intervention breaches... as he is usually gone by the time they get there and there is no evidence! So no police action, no paperwork trail, no evidence for Court... only a woman in fear of her life and waiting for him to murder both herself and their daughters.

Is this a class issue? He also has no employment because if he holds a job he would have to pay maintenance. On welfare he doesn't have to... and he can keep paying his mortgage by living with another working single mother and her children, whilst he receives Centrelink benefits. No proof as they keep a separate bedroon for his new 'housemate' who as a sole parent couldn't afford to live in a house near her employment otherwise. It also allows her children stability of schooling to stay in the area.

Choices?

Options?

As if!

Then let's look at another acquaintances twenty-one year old daughter. Left school at Year 9 because she is functionally illiterate and very disruptive. Like many young women her focus is on gaining a boyfriend, who just might be Prince Charming and bring with him the possibility of a home and family. She studies at TAFE, gets a low level qualifiaction in a service Industry and works very long hours for very little pay. From her perspective her friends (unemployed and students) are having a much better time socialising each weekend whilst she is salving away in a kitchen.

It does not take a rocket scientist to realise that she will be tempted away from her employment which is not stable anyway to go back on welfare and party with her friends... after all that's where a Prince Charming might emerge. Sometimes it happens. She has friends who have met and coupled with young male apprentice tradespeople who have a solid future ahead. That's what she longs for... but again alcohol and binge drinking are part of the environs. Very soon she fails her 'job readiness' test through breaches due to hang overs and day-time sleeping in. Then the job offers are worse. More casual, reliant on non-standard working hours (meaning need for own transport). She can only afford an unreliable car which does not allow for a solid work attendance and major financial burdons to keep the thing going.

Inevitably, this young woman perceives pregnancy as a 'career option'. She wants a family and sees that being home with children might be the answer. The government pension looks good through her eyes, as she has never tried to provide a home for her family on such a sum, and the baby bonus does appear generous. Ah but where does she and her baby live? Her mother has re-partnered and lives in her step-father's home with his family. Her boyfriend is drinking, gambling and totally unreliable. She begins to fear his outbursts and rage. There is a ten year waiting list at the Ministry for Housing in this area and even longer further away from Melbourne.

Are we as a society not culpable in this situation also? How can we have an education system that allows 14 and 15 year olds to finish and enter a competitive labourmarket with no skills and no functional literacy? Would this have happened if her parents had paid for a Private Education? I think not... or if she was functionally illiterate, her family could have at least supported her through levels of TAFE studies until she was employable and skilled... by paying the fees.

I despair, when I am constantly told that my outlook on life is 'outmoded'. Is this not examples of class in all these scenarios? Working-poor, Howard's battlers... call them what you will, but I say they are the new Australian underclass. Whilst our society is so unequal in opportunity the issue of class will continue to underpin my writing... and to deny the importance of class demonstrates to me the degree of disconnect between the lived experiences of the educated boureoisie and the rest of us.

Only connect, that's all I ask of my peers.

Does MY LIFE have to be so hard?

What is it about me?

I know I suffer BMD but that can't be the ONLY reason my daily existence is such an emotional roller coaster. I seem to care TOO MUCH about everything ALL THE TIME.

Just let's examine my movement on the moo- scales over the past 48 hours. It would look visually, like a heart monitor screen whilst the heart is undergoing shocks from defibrillation! Up, down, massive ups, massive plummets and then dead straight.... before beginning the patterns again.

Why?

I was very happy with getting down to the business of writing my Exegesis finally. I have stopped procrastinating and am no longer going back to the safety net of 're-reading articles or book chapters'. I have closed the books and am getting out of my head everything that has stuck in the deep recesses of my brain over the last forty months. The Dr Rowena Wallace method of focused writing seems to be just what I need at this moment.

It seems productive and a step in the right direction; forward for a change. I feel that I have actually worked (intellectually) over this period and despite the obvious structural and stylistic omissions at this stage in the draft it is a reasonably strong base to work on in the coming days.

I have also been jotting journal notes on plot additions and deletions for my artefact and am really looking forward to giving this 100% of my attention in the next few weeks.

BUT.... (here comes the but...)

Everytime I begin to feel under control and even healthy... some voice from somewhere (outside my head) comes along to destabilise me.

My supervisor implied last Thursday that when I sat a seat apart from her on the couch I was trying to avoid her. Wrong!

I'm the bloody one who flew home from my holiday in Sydney just to catch up for a meeting about how stuck I actually was. She was the one too busy to fit me into her busy schedule... after all she needed to leave at a certain hour to ensure she could meet her family/mothering responsibilities. What about mine? Let alone the issue of how much I spent to fly down and return back again to Sydney! My money of course, never University funds.

She also had a go at me for wanting to attend an annual Conference where most of my networking occurs and where I just might have a hope of getting some respect from a future employer. This University Which Shall Not be Named...(my alma mater) will not touch me with a proverbial barge pole now that I have seen the insecurities and hidden agendas at play, keeping it disfunctional (at least at my home Campus).

My future at age 54 hangs on this stuff.

I am not privileged enough to have had a husband and supportive family to ensure that I did not need twenty years out of my academic career and subsistence on Welfare.

These were not bad choices or things I regret... just how the cards fell.

I am only pissed off NOW when people refuse to understand or empathise and put their own emotional and career needs first AT MY EXPENSE.

Hence I am angry and this takes so much energy.

I pay a heavy price for this anger. I turn the emotion inside as I cannot vent (apart from here days later), and I end up crying and self-sabotaging my academic (and health) progress.

Need to regain balance and stability... again.

To take my mind off things, I decide that I need to think of someone other than myself to gain some perspective.

So in a very positive frame of mind I take myself off to important academic "Show Cause" (for continuning to be enrolled in a Course of study) Hearings as the Student Consultative Network representative at a different Campus in a different Discipline... see how protective of myself I can actually be?

This was a great learning experience and opportunity to read character... that of the fellow academic panel members and the students presenting.

Without breaching any confidences or professional ethics let's just say that when faced with cultural pressures unknown to us Aussie-born students: wars, political instability in homelands, extreme poverty, employment victimisation, workplace inflexibility, illness and homeless insecurity... my little issues seem like proverbial mole hills.

It was a humbling experience. And a timely one wit a reminder that I need to re-focus and regroup emotionally.

Next, I have to reach out for some beauty somewhere; this time around the leafy Acland Street and bright shiny wet streets of St Kilda and her wintry sea.

Then, up again to normal scale... move on and write again. Good stuff....

Only to be brought crashing down again by a 'friend'/co-scholar. A return of a missed phone call sees me being asked to 'fix' some computer program issues THAT NEVER SHOULD HAVE ARISEN if this bloody person had listened in the training classes or re-read the notes. Nor would it be my problem if he had run the expert trainer herself PRIOR TO NOW....

...Why would anyone at this stage of a PhD completion have moved the main document several times, onto several machines and hard drives... I can understand having backups ... but changing the machine that holds the ACTUAL document and attached library files... geee how dumb?

The complete lack of understanding of I.T. by MOST academics is staggering. Why do they assume any computer or program can fix EBEKAC? (error between keyboard and chair!)

Jesus... how is this a problem needing MY TIME or energy?

Our scheduled meeting had been about agreeing on a final draft of a journal article (co-written, then re-written by me to meet referees concerns... which academically were quite startling in their response.... a complete lack of research rigour on the part of my co-author stating blatant factual errors)... not a joint let's problem solve YOUR PhD issues session. This self-centeredness is staggering... and INSULTING to me! This from the PhD candidate of the Year!!!

Now this colleague needs to be sure his second journal article flows and doesn't regurgitate this joint paper. (I too have a paper for final submission also).... yet the next scheduled meeting is to FIX COMPUTER PROGRAM ISSUES.... I think not!

And to fix his citation issues when these could be researched on our own library website or in the Australian Government Publication Stytle Guide 2010.... why me? I guess I am easier to blame when things go wrong than to actually do the blooody work oneself. NO WAY JOSE. Been there had that just last September/October with same individual, and hospitalised again in February by same issues with a trusted superior/employer and male PhD scholar...

Patterns repeating. Can I be strong and do/say what I must?

I am feeling used and abused again... Remember friendly fire?

So again what was to be a really productive writing day has dissintegrated over night with me getting angry, then keeping it inside, then lashing out on the keyboard again. So much for actual academic writing progress... I need to vent again.

This 'dear' scholar also inferred that I am responsible for my supervisors extreme stress and anger at 'my' lack of progress!!! How dare he. And if that is actually what she thinks... how dare she? Her stress is not my issue, nor should it be... that's what her job is and why she is paid at that level... deal with it. I am trying to deal with my stress at $11.80 or whatever an hour... and I am managing to inch forward and stay well.

GRRRRR angry again....or rather, still.

Just when my world seems about to totter right down towards hospitalisation yesterday, my 21 year old son decides to watch a bad movie on the TV with me last night. I can't say "No, too busy", as this request doesn't happen often and has actually been years in coming.

I am so glad I put the bloody PhD on hold for this. We have had an amazingly tough last ten years. He has had to deal with so much trauma, stress and crises for someone his age that I am proud of him actually having survived it.

He decided last night to finally reconnect with me, as a parent and trusted friend.

We were able to re-trace all our emotional injuries to each other and share the innermost fears and insecurities (both of us). The years of fights, assaults, deaths, illnesses, drug use, car crashes, legal problems, financial crises, gangs and guns are finally all out in the metaphorical cold hard light of day.

The pain is not gone but it can be dealt with at last.

My son confessed to not a day going by without some 'nightmare' haunting him for a moment or two or preventing him from sleeping. He understandably has emotionally disconnected (superfically) just to get through at present.

Who can blame him? I now understand where he is at... finally.

I would be in the same place myself.. and probably a worse place were I his age. I am so proud of this young man. He has had to grow up so hard and so fast.

For the first time in years I KNOW he will survive and I can begin to relax. I am so overcome with relief that this also needs capturing on paper/screen.

Now I can move on and roll the dice again for myself. This has been a major movement in my stability.

When people read this, perhaps they can see how my PhD may be the most visibly important thing in my life but really there has always been more important domestic issues that have sapped so much energy, emotional strength and will to succeed on my part.

I am proud of where I am now... for the first time in years.

And F.... anybody else's expectations.

I am going to stay well, keep a strong relationship with my son and finish what I have started in my own time... so everyone else can just deal with that.

Sorry guys... my turn.

The tears are flowing now.. but they are tears of release.

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.

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!