Where to from here??

How do you help someone to see what is blindingly obvious to everyone else? Can you even make someone see something that the should see but might not want to? I don't think you can. I think the best thing that anyone can do for anyone is to be patient with them and let them come to their own conclusions.

But that path is just so frustrating! It's hard to see something bad happening and have to wait because you can't do anything. It's frustrating having no power to dive in and save someone you know is at risk of drowning. Even worse when you throw them a life raft and they don't take it because they don't even see that they are at risk. But then you can't be all things to all people and sometimes people need to hit the bottom to be able to come back to the top. I just hate seeing people in pain, it hurts me seeing people I care about hurting. It breaks my heart to see their heart breaking.

And the only thing I can do is wait...

Teetering on the edge...

I spent last weekend feeling like I was teetering on the edge of insanity. It felt like there was a black abyss just waiting for me to falter and fall, never to be seen again. My brain was a whirlpool of Derrida, Lacan and Barthes; fear of failure and what seemed to be a general lack of communication from anyone I knew. It was a seriously dissociative experience of feeling totally disconnected from the real world. Not fun, not fun at all.



Anyways, I managed to claw my way back and reconnect. But it made me think. Maybe sanity is only a shadow away from ourselves. Maybe it lurks, unseen, under the crevices of our mind. Maybe insanity is just a condition that everyone and anyone flicks in and out of from time to time. Or was it just me? Who knows.

Scattered thoughts...

There's been a lot on my mind recently, so I haven't written on here in the hope that I would soon clear my mind and I would be able to write more clearly.

Didn't happen.

Never mind I'll just write anyways! So there's been a lot of death around recently. And it's gotten me thinking about death, mourning, memory and other cultural rituals that surround the end of a person's life. My lecturer for one of the papers I am taking this year pointed out to me that in Western Culture, it seems like we are getting less and less able to deal with death. It's becoming more and more professionalised and happening further and further away from the domestic sphere.

And when you think about it, that's scarily true. Someone dies, and a medical professional is required to verify that they are dead. Then a certificate of death is issued. Then the body is taken away by people in the profession of undertaking to be cleaned up and made presentable for the funeral, again, presided over by a professional. Then the body is either buried or cremated. Yep, you got it, again by professionals. Man, death is a big industry. And it's never going to lack clientele.

But why has death needed to be sanitised so much? Why can't we all deal with the gritty reality of what will eventually happen to each and every one of us? Yes, this is a morbid topic but why do people have such a hard time reading it? Are we all in a state of denial? I think I am. Less so about my own death, even though I can barely acknowledge that. I'm definitely in a state of denial about the deaths of those people around me that I love. I straight out cannot think about that without some kind of minor panic attack, the thought is just so horrific. Especially as I know the absolute finality of death that you will only ever understand once you have lost someone. There's no come back, no reprieve, no second chance. That's why I always obsessively tell everyone I care about that I love them or to take care of themselves whenever I say goodbye. Yeah, I have a complex, but at least I admit it!!

In any case, this is a topic too depressing to dwell on for too long. Maybe that's a reason we have professionals that can deal with it better than the majority of the population. But then again, maybe having to deal with death and face it on a day to day basis would make us all a bit stronger, a bit nicer to each other and a bit more appreciative of life as it is around us.

Cos I'm sure we'll all miss our lives once they're taken away from us.

Dedication to those gone before us

This last week has seen the passing of two extraordinary women in my partner's family. I feel lucky and honoured that I had the chance to meet both of them before they moved on to the next realm. Both lived through social upheaval, political revolution, loss of children... Things that many of us will hopefully never have to experience.

This has also made me think of my own grandparents who all passed on, within a year of each other, just over seven years ago. Although their lives were lived in totally different countries with vastly different cultures to that of my partner's grandparents, they too lived through some very tough times and were all amazing people with fascinating life stories. Although it has been seven years, I still miss them as much as I did the day they passed. And in many ways, they are still as much a part of my life now as they were when they were alive. It's just the method of communication changes slightly.

I believe that death isn't the end of it all. I don't know what happens or where people go but I do know that they go on to somewhere else. Hopefully somewhere better. I guess we'll know for sure once we get there.

The most important point for me is that I think that everyone has an interesting story to tell of their life and that we should give more credence to the voice of our elders. Once they are gone, we lose a vastly rich wealth of knowledge, experience and wisdom. Also, cherish everyone you have whilst they are still living and try not to let the daily irritations get in the way of appreciating each other.

You'll never know the true finality of death until it's too late.

There goes my moment...

It's my last night in Adelaide. My other half flew out to Sydney, transferring to Taipei this morning at 6.30 and I feel like someone has ripped my heart out.

You'd think, after 12 months of living in different countries that I would be pretty good with this whole goodbye thing. In actual fact I wonder if it's just getting harder. I've spent most of today in a bit of a mist, just waiting for tomorrow to come so I can go home and get back to the distraction of day to day reality. But time is finally dragging it's feet. Right when I really don't want it to.

You see, wherever he is feels like home. For a while, FTA felt like home. The overly soft single bed, the sparse bedroom, the dusty dry air. But now that he's gone, it feels like nothing. All of the spirit has been sucked out of it and all I'm left with is the absence, the feeling of loss. He's gone, he's not coming back and I have no idea when I am going to see him again. I know it could be a lot worse and I have little to complain about compared to some people but right now it feels awful. He's my home, my safe place and my light. Anywhere where he isn't just can't really compare to where he is. It's times like these when you realise the true meaning of "I can't live without him".

I know that once I get back to Auckland and life kicks back in that I'll feel better. But right now, sat at an empty desk under the unfriendly glare of the standard issue neon study lamp, perspective on things is a little hard to maintain. All I want is my moment back.

Hanging on to a moment...

It's my 6th day of my third and final tour of Adelaide, visiting my beloved other half. In four days he graduates from FTA (Flight Training Adelaide) as a certified pilot, with all sorts of licenses and ratings that I am barely qualified to write about! I'm immensely proud, as any good girlfriend should be, and a little overwhelmed that he has achieved so much in so little time. Not that I for a moment thought that he couldn't but I have just realised (having read his reports and paperwork) HOW much he has learnt. None of which I understand at all!

So here I am, with the person I adore most in the whole world, wondering how on earth I savour every last minute available to me with him. You see, I have no idea when I will see him again. It could be June, it could be September. And September is an awfully long way away. Despite time going really fast.

It feels like I can't tell him enough, can't let him understand fully enough how much I absolutely adore him. I can't let him know how emotionally desolate I would be without him. He means so much to me that I can't explain it. Which annoys me as usually I am quite good at expressing things!!

I feel like I'm scrabbling in the dirt trying to hang on to every last moment, desperate to try and hold on to time. But it keeps getting away from me and I don't know what to do about it. How many times can you say I love you? How many times are enough? When does it start getting old? Are those three words enough? I'll agree with Snow Patrol on this one that they sure aren't. Not for me, not in this situation, not to explain how I truly feel.

I guess the heart will never be able to fully articulate itself with words.

The perennial problem.

Everyone over the age of 21 complains about. Or so it seems. I was an early starter, I started complaining about it at the age of 17. Time. It just goes too gosh darned fast!

This time last year, as I prepared myself for the horrific fate of being apart from my darling partner for a whole year, I thought that SURELY 2006 would be the slowest year of my life. Well, no, actually it wasn't. Not only that but it wasn't a horrific fate being separated from my partner for a year. In fact it was very manageable. Not enjoyable, but definitely manageable.

Anyway, I find myself here, yet again agog at "how fast time has gone by" and spouting such awful cliches as "where has the year gone to already". But it's true! I hate to be unoriginal in my observations but time honestly gets faster as you progress in years. Already, at 24 years old, it seems fast.

So this is our perennial problem. Everyone complains about it, it doesn't get any better as you get older and there really is nothing you can do about the passing of time. It's going to keep going whether or not you like it. But maybe there is something we can do to assuage this feeling of being robbed of our precious time. Maybe, instead of constantly being head down, butt up, busy busy busy, we can allocate time to myself to just sit for a while every so often.

I personally think that this is really important, especially for my mental health. I have always needed space to myself, but more and more, as demands on my time increase, it has become absolutely necessary for my survival. I need a decent period of time every so often to faff about, stare into space or just do nothing of real consequence. I need to escape the constant "should" mantra that keeps chanting on in my head. You know the one: "You should exercise more, you should be studying, you should finish that email to Bob..." But never does it say "You should relax". That's something you need to fight for and claim for yourself.

Luckily, I have a wonderful man who (even from a distance) keeps reminding me to take on less and sit back and relax more often. I'm pretty sure that without him I would be a gibbering wreck in some corner, rocking back and forth wild-eyed, repeating over and over "I should... I should..."

The "shoulds" of this world can drown you. But it's only if you let them.

Just keep running...

I ran the Auckland "Round the Bays" fun run yesterday.

When I look at that sentence, I realise that the words that truly should be in inverted commas are the words fun run. Is there really such a thing? Sure some people have fun running but I can't say that I had much fun yesterday whilst running. I sure achieved something though. 8.4km is the furthest I have ever run continuously in my life. And it hurt doing it.

Actually it shouldn't have hurt so much. I regularly run 6km, so you wouldn't think that an extra 2.4km would be so bad. And normally it wouldn't but when you're used to running in the evening and you only had a banana for breakfast... Well you know.

I would like to get to the stage where I can run 10km without too many issues at any time of the day though. That's my next goal. You know, on the way to my crazy, insane, seemingly unreachable goal of me running the half marathon in October. I honestly have no idea how on earth I will do that but it'll be interesting trying.

Interesting. Another word that needs to be in inverted commas.

Were did that come from?

I had a blind siding revelation last night. After years of declaring that I am not the maternal type, I discovered that in fact I am the maternal type. One that wants kids. What on earth happened? One minute I am trundling along in life, thinking smugly to myself that I am free of that responsibility and my life is my own and then KAPOW. Not so much.

I actually found myself wondering what it would be like to have a little person to care for, love, educate, look out for. And I found myself thinking that it sounded like something that I wanted to do. Like a burning inside of my being had been lit - the maternal spark if you will.

So what, many people may think. Millions of women have been having babies for millions of years. This is true. But the realisation that you are at a stage in your life when you think you are ready for motherhood should be worthy of some note, surely?

It was for me. The concept, and the physical and psychological and financial details, of parenthood still terrify me immensely, but the desire to have a crumpled and pinkish little bundle of joy snuggled in my arms is fast overtaking this fear. And I honestly have no clue where this desire came from.

You could argue it's 'natural', you could argue that it's socialised, but frankly, right now that doesn't matter so much for me. This unbidden maternal spark has been lit within me and no amount of reading Sylvia Plath is putting it out. It might just be a good thing.

I'm not sure. I haven't decided yet.

The here and now

I'm sat here, wide-eyed, staring tomorrow in the face. Fear and dread incapacitate me but I can't look away. It's there and it's not going away. What am I scared of losing?

Now.

I'm scared of losing 'now' and all its quiet cosy comforts that envelope me like a warm blanket. I'm scared of leaving and not being able to come back. I'm scared of change and falling from an unknown height onto an unknown landscape. I'm scared of losing that familiar feeling of home and belonging.

Sometimes I wish I could freeze frame today and snuggle inside now forever.