a day like any other


Today was a day like any other. Any other during a heatwave that is. Meaning – air con on and stay where you are!

So, I was trawling social media…and a post popped up in a support group I follow and the day took an intense turn. A young woman asked if the amount of medication she had on hand was enough to end her life. What an amazingly wonderful group of people – all living with a chronic illness, often misunderstood and dismissed – delivered a constant stream of messages until we were sure she was safe. A paramedic from another state tried to get someone to her home. Someone from her actual city offered to go to ER with her. Kindness screamed from my screen and overwhelmed me with joy in the midst of such sadness. We are all connected.

There’s a whole team, unseen, walking with her now. So glad she reached out. She spent the afternoon at the hospital, went home with antidepressants and therapy sessions set up and a collective sigh of relief went round.

Tonight, I saw a tv show I’ve never heard of before – Henry Winkler and William Shatner were in Tokyo. Laugh? I did 🙂

Intense day – strangely good start to the week.


daily post writing challenge


I’m using the first response example as inspiration for a post


death comes to us all

grief muddies the sanest mind

and the rats still race




keep running


It’s not fair is it! You can see it in his eyes. The haunting. Not well yet. Why are some people born to do battle with their own head? 

And they’re all around us. You can’t read it in every face, some keep it well closed in, but some pain is so transparent.

I’m glad they didn’t share the how’s of their attempts. Good attempt at the why’s. There is no why other than the demons made me do it.  Then again there is no why not. No judgement, no option for them. Two lost, two saved…one little girl without her father.


suicide prevention australia – fundraising campaign



this loss trilogy – the first post


This doesn’t have to be a depressing exercise, this challenge, but it so is.


I have lost contact with my son. I can’t say that out loud – writing it is painful. A great big rip in my heart. Blood drips down to my feet, stains the stratosphere under my footprints. How am I still standing.

I don’t know how it happened and I can’t fix it. If I spend too long thinking on it I teeter on the edge of my sanity. I could so very easily slip and go over, go under. That doesn’t mean for one second that I don’t think of my son. My darling boy takes up a good part of my every single day. If only that would bring him back. No questions asked, no judgement no expectation – I dream of a big hug.

There is nothing more to say. The darkness is closing in but sleep is a way off. I’ll wrestle with my thoughts into the small hours.


this loss trilogy

hug awaits my prodigal

breathing in and out




the therapist


She floats along the corridor like those chinese movie ghosts. She’s a stick of licorice. A praying mantis. A snake perhaps. I don’t know but there is something odd going on there and I’m here because there’s something wrong with me?

For god’s sake eat something woman. And wear a different colour now and then.

A brush stroke in thin air. A mere waft of a human. She doesn’t talk much. Just moves her mane from side to side – slow and rare movements. And at the end, from somewhere within, ‘you’re saaaad’. Looks like she’s going to cry herself.

Not doing me any good spilling to her. I want the panic attacks stopped now, the anxious feeling gone. I want to live not talk about past yuck. 

What to do?


some days…you know?


Oh wow Ali where for art thou yes I DO have a lot of anger!

Here’s my day.

Trip to the hospital with youngest. Yay we’re supposed to be happy that her test results are all ok so that means next week they can start pumping mouse protein into her, along with the three current toxic drugs, in an attempt to get her body to stop attacking her body. That’s right MOUSE protein. I’ll sit next to her in the day clinic for eight hours while it’s delivered by tube and we’re being happy about it.

Next a stupid phone call from my ex husband who let’s be honest resides on another planet. A planet where ‘let’s plan a week in Europe together’ seems like a statement that won’t be met with what the? Since when do we even talk, until recently about children’s health, and how many years since we’ve been in the same room, same country, spoken face to face but um yeah sure I can picture this vacation you mention.      N O T even.

Add a visit from a sibling to discuss mother’s care. That’s forty five minutes of my life I won’t get back, and I can’t add anything to what I’m already doing for mother. ‘Mother is depressed’.  News flash I’m heading that way on a good day! Surely we all are at times.

I think that’s all, really. It’s just stirred up again after the retelling to eldest. The explanation as to why we can’t have a weekend away together any time soon though I would love to.

Sometimes I think killing one of them would be a good option. (And I so do not mean my children! you know that right?!) In jail I would be fed, clothed, roofed, and have free medical care til the end of my days. And I could probably garden.

But seriously dear reader do not fret about me – it’s all out now. Better out than in. I am fine. Some days are wonderful. It’s not all negative at all I promise! It’s funny really. And today I am so buoyed by the response to my retreat story – I wasn’t sure I could tell it so to have so many people enjoy it and let me know, is just….well Sally Field territory 🙂


(Two readers came from facebook – how does that work?! I’m not connected..must be from someone else’s blog showing on their facebook page I guess)


that question again…


How’s your son?

I don’t know. I don’t know how to answer. I don’t know where he lives, what he does. I don’t know how he is.

I don’t like to talk about it. Sometimes I literally can’t talk about it. And so I understand his inability to communicate with me. It’s genetic. In a crisis I clam up, dry up, shut up. He’s the same. It’s been a long time though, too long.

I’ve heard that he’s finished uni, that he works for a charity. I’m not sure if it’s paid or not. I’ve been told which suburb he lives in, who he flats with. Reassuring.

And there’s the beginning of a thaw. I have actually seen him four times the last two months. After so many months that’s unbelievable.

He came to my best friend’s funeral and sat two seats from me. He brought her flowers. He wore a suit. Crumpled, but a huge effort. He spoke to me voluntarily and gave me a gift from his chinese grandmother. He came to my mother’s 90th birthday celebrations – both days. And he came to visit his sister after her life changing diagnosis. I am so proud of him. He’s a wonderful young man, finding his way, rediscovering his voice.

How’s my son?

He’s well thank you, he looks great. He’s finished university, works for a charity. Every job he’s had, while studying, has been for a charity. He lives near the uni with an old schoolmate. He’ll be spending christmas with his father, in Asia.

written in response to the daily prompt : plead the fifth  ‘What question do you hate to be asked? Why?’