Filling the Silence

I have learnt much about myself this past 2 weeks.
The Ross River (RR) is encouraging me to feel my worst, physically and occasionally mentally.
So far I have not had a single positive conversation about RR.
"How are you Clare? Not at work today?"
"No, nope, having a bit of time off actually."
Awkward Pause.
"Actually I've been diagnosed with RR...."
"Oh no. Oh that can last for ages can't it? Oh my mate had it and he was fucked for months."
"Oh no. I had that in 2000. I was fucked. I couldn't do anything. I needed anti depressants by the end of it. Oh mate. That sucks."
"Awesome!" (The one guy who's answer I appreciated.)
Possibly I should just stop talking about it. Suck it up, press forward and not mention I'm not feeling particularly well.
It's just the thing is.....
This past week has been immense. It hurts to walk, alot of the time. My pace has slowed by almost 50%. I'm really noticing that. I can't hold a good conversation. I feel like a mute. Like my brain is in slow motion.
Let me tell you, I pride myself on the quick retort. The Quip. My savvy wit. My cheerful demeanor.

Well for the past 7 days I've completely lost it. I am not me. I am not making people smile, in fact I am bringing them down with my shit news. RR and I lost my job.
"Yes, your right, it couldn't have happened at a better time."
"Yes I plan to rest."
"Yes isn't it fantastic I will be home more for the kids."
Not really.
One thing I have noticed, is that now I'm quieter, other people are louder. They say more. They fill in the silence. Which, it turns out, is something I have always, unofficially, attended to myself. It's been quite interesting, noticing how much more some of my 'quieter' friends have to say now that I'm holding back. Or should I say being held back by these nasty little RR germs that are traumatising my ankles feet and knee (just the right side).
So in order, this is what I've learnt.
I like to fill silences.
I also like not to fill silences, especially when I'm poorly.
Some people talk shit.
Possibly in my silence filling speak, in the past, I too have spoken shit. Possibly.
Going downstairs takes way longer than going upstairs. Surprising.
It's cool to watch the new Seth Rogan film at the cinemas at 10.30 in the morning. I tell you, me and the other 3 stoned people in that theatre laughed and laughed. 'This is the End'. Terrific.
90 minute massages are infinitely more amazing than 60 minute. It was my birthday this week and I needed a treat. I also like to get out of the house when the washing is piling up, especially when, as per this week, I was feeling poorly. Sadly it wasn't the cash only lady friendly place I've come to enjoy so much, but still, amazing. Just not quite as red cheeked walking out afterwards, but still very satisfied.
I've watched Madmen, Freaks & Geeks and old episodes of Offspring. I've cleaned the occasional cupboard and a couple of mirrors. Being lazy has never felt so right.
Pretty much, in terms of weeks in my life, it's not been great. Living with pain sucks. I'm nervous about this continuing. However, I've survived this week in fairly good spirits and in fact I'm quite pleased with my response to these new 'challenges'. I am a fucking trooper. Just a bit quieter, but that might be nice...

Damn it.

I lost my job today.
Ouch.
It actually hurts to write it, it's hard to make these words flow.
Nothing dramatic. No huge mistake, no bitter feud, no problems...
Just a reshuffle of who goes where. There are so many people in detention that they need all the rooms they can, to squeeze all the people into.
So the boys I have been caring for are moving to another centre and where I currently work will become some kind of transit centre where families stay for a few weeks before transferring to the next place. Meaning my 5 days a week 9-2 shift is debunked. All over red rover. Gone.
There is certainly more work for me as a support worker. Sadly this work is what one might call shift work. Start times are either 7am or 3pm. You can imagine how terrifically they fit into a school Mum's life. So fuckingbullshitbumbumfuckthis. I'm out. I'm not happy. My manager isn't happy. I'm a bloody valuable asset to my company. Just not a 9-2 one.
It couldn't have happened at a better time for 2 reasons. Number 1 is the slight problem of my positive diagnosis for Ross River Virus. I know, I know - it can last for ages and intermittently pop up throughout the rest of my life. I know. Especially because thats what people tell me, everytime I tell them I'm RRV Positive. It's fucking depressing. Worse though, is the joint pain, that starts in the bottom of my feet & travels all the way to my spectacular Mama hips. It aches, it causes me to walk like an old lady and that it has become my normal is quite sad.
This will be a big journey, but I'm ready for it.
The number 2 reason I have to be grateful for bowing out of the ever fluidly changing world of immigration is that times are getting tough. Nobody seems to know what will happen, least of all the people running the show. So my role as a support worker is going to get harder and more stressful and possibly very depressing. Certainly for the clients and more than likely for the workers. So maybe it's a good time to get out. Before the going gets too tough.
But damn it I was good at it. I loved it. I really care about what happens to those kids.
Damn it Damn it Damn it.

Now to spend a day with my family, the best remedy of all when my spirit is laid flat. I am continually reminded that when days are dark, I still have so much to be grateful, and thankful, for.

My Resurrection

I'd like to say I got through my week at home with the kids relatively unscathed....but I didn't.
Saturday morning I felt off, sore muscles and very painful joints. I had been to the Chiropractor for the first time in about 18 months and he had mentioned that I may feel a bit sore the next day. I sure did!
Monday I was no worse, asides from walking like an invalid when I woke up in the morning - my legs were stiff, my feet hurt to touch the ground, my ankles slightly swollen, but after a few stretches & walkabouts I was okay. Besides - I was taking the kids camping on Tuesday night with some other amazing/crazy Mums and it was super exciting & there was a ridiculous amount of organising to do. Oh the pressure of packing a car and taking your kids bush for 2 days. A lesser woman might have cracked, me - I just ate a lot of chips and ignored the yelling.
Once we were on our way it was fantastic. Maggie fell asleep 20 minutes into the 2 hour drive and Leo is one of those magnificent children who can stare out a car window and be perfectly content. Mama here thought it was a perfect time to pull out my old Tori Amos albums and boy did she sing us to Litchfield or what.

i’ve been looking for a savior in these dirty streets

looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets
i’ve been raising up my hands drive another nail in
got enough GUILT to start my own religion

(crucify)

but what if i’m a mermaid
in these jeans of his with her name still on it
hey but i don’t care
cause sometimes i said
sometimes i hear my voice
i hear my voice

(silent all these years)

Seriously, she really spoke to me when I was a teenager. It was really powerful to listen and sing and remember who I was back then, how much music meant to me and my identity.

So camping was fanastic. A great group of Mums, a couple of Dads, heaps of kids and my crowning glory - setting up &; taking down a 3 person tent myself. High fives, thank you. Not to mention the 500 metre walk to the top of a waterfall that was extremely tough, especially considering Ms Maggie was by my side and on my hip for the entire duration. (sidenote - she walked/climbed almost half of it - I've never been prouder. That kid is something else - just have to direct her powers into positive endevours...)

However I woke up the next morning after a fitful sleep, with a very itchy arm. That soon progressed to 2 itchy arms, stomach, thighs, legs, feet. I was covered in red welts and felt as though I may possibly implode in agony. Fortunately someone had a hayfever tablet that settled me for a time, I bathed in the thermal pool & cranked the cars airconditioner and headed for home.

The kindly pharmacist assisted me with some adult phenergan for night and claratyne for day. I was dead on my feet by 5pm, asleep soon after. The next day I felt dreadful, still covered in welts & like I could sleep for a year. Those of you who have children will understand this was, in a word, impossible. I took Maggie to daycare & Leo got to hang with his strange looking Mum for the day.

I know, beauty is only skin deep.

I googled my symptoms, not a terrific idea. Auto Immune disorders here we come. Went to the Docs, he found my rash fantastic, which was quite nice. He prescribed me a slow release pain killer for the joint pain and got a nurse to take about 6 vials of my lovely blood. Hello mosquito borne viruses.

The various drugs kicked in and I started to feel slightly human again. I slept again that night for about 14 hours, probably twice what I usually do! The next day I dosed up, again I felt better. Thank you legal pharmaceuticals, I love your work.

2 days on I am completely off all pharmaceuticals and feeling much better. The rash has disappeared, I'm slightly tired but that's normal. 7 days on I'm terrific - feeling healthy has never felt so good, or valued.  I will call for my blood test results (fingers crossed they don't call me first...) next week but in the meantime, hallelujah I have been resurrected. Seriously - who has the time to be sick? It sucks. Really wish I'd taken more photos though - my sexy leg shot hardly does my hives justice. 

So I survived, both my children and a mysterious illness. But damn was I happy/grateful/excited to be back at work on Monday. 

I've got a good feelings

I've had several good feelings this past week...
My Mother In Law has been staying with us looking after Leo during the school holidays and she has been magnificent. I trust her, admire her, enjoy her and love that she and Leo get to have this time together.
Alas she is leaving tomorrow and heaven forbid I am back in charge of my 2 children for 5 days straight. Aside from feeling quite sad that I won't see my refugee boys for an entire 9 days (2 weekends + 1 week) I'm slightly nervous at the prospect of entire days with me vs kids. Best case scenario we enjoy relaxing fun days together....worst case we have more of the sameness from this past week - a 2 year old with slightly demonic phases that only appear when Mother is around.
I'm confident that I am a good parent. I'm certain that I love both my children and would willingly give up my own life for either of them, should the need arise. However, lately, Ms 2 almost 3 has been throwing such rage filled tantrums, involving headbutts, scratching, biting and screaming (oh the screaming), ONLY when I am around, that my sense of I am complete woman/domestic goddess/earth mother has evaporated. Instead I feel a mixture of embarrassment, helplessness and oh fuck I could seriously throw you off the balcony.
Fortunately I did see the Dalai Lama IN THE FLESH last week and he reminded me that compassion, forgiveness and mindfulness are Uber Important. The best weapon I have when she is throwing a mental (oh, excuse me for not being P.C.... but seriously, it's fucking mental) is to imagine the Lama is in the room. This is particularly useful in increasing my mindfullness skills and NOT throwing her off the balcony.
So surely a week with both my children will be TERRIFIC and if not at least I will get to practise and increase my skills in compassion, forgiveness and what...oh that's right, mindfullness.
In other news, I was slightly concerned that my expensive Berlei bra was allowing my nipples to shine bright like a diamond through my work shirts. Working with teenage boys, you can imagine this was a little unsettling, for all of us. Damn you Darwin, your humidity and your hard working air conditioning units. So I bought 3 new bras in different colours for $10 each from Cotton On. Great shop. Thick Bra material. Monster push up. So now I no longer have nipple issues, but it does feel as though my boobs are now located under my chin. The boys seem happy, and as always pleased to see me, so either we are all relieved I'm no longer headlighting them or my Mrs Robinson look is working a treat. Like I said, it's a good feeling.

The Right Stuff

Several times this past few weeks I have managed to 'get it right'.
This is a written record so it can never be forgotten.
Hubby went crabbing on Sunday. This meant I was at home with a clingy 2 year old, an 'I don't know' 7 year old, and an extraordinarily untidy house.
I got a load of washing on and played 'toys' for over an hour before my temperature started to rise. I mean seriously, as if I ever get to go crabbing.
For the record I never wish to go crabbing, I was just having a low moment.
Ideally I could have plonked the kids in front of a dvd for 90 minutes and cleaned that damn house.

Sadly, my children are going through a 'I hate what he/she wants to watch and there will be no peace in our home if he/she continues to watch it' with one another, so dvd's are not the old friend they once were.
This is what I did. Cut up some cheese and veggie sticks. Mixed up some olives, threw together some ham & butter sandwiches, minus the crusts, packed it all up in the one Tupperware container I've ever really liked, put our camping chairs in the boot and drove 5 minutes down the road to our local park.
We bought poppas and chips to share from the corner store and wait for it, wait for it....
We sat at the park for near on 2 hours, playing, chatting, sitting. The weather was glorious, the park was quietly busy and I felt like possibly the greatest Mother ever.
Yes the house is still in something of a state. However the washing keeps getting done and again, I'll take that as a win. It could be worse.
My work life continues to throw both challenges and great moments of joy at me. In one day I have had the pleasure of introducing 3 teenage boys from 3 different countries to the magic that is The Goonies. Wonderful to hear them laugh at the same scenes that still make me laugh. At the same time I am struggling to deal with a young man's desperate plea for answers - how much longer will I be here? When can I live in the community? Why can't anybody give me an answer?It was frustrating, humbling and unsettling. I left work that day and came home to that clingy 2 year old, who I snuggled and cuddled and spooned the heck out of. I have never been so grateful, or so full of love for this noisy little demanding creature who is my Maggie.

That would have been my conclusion to this ode to patting myself on the back, however my technological prowess has reminded me that even on our best days, we can still fall flat. I really, really like the above song by Florence & The Machine and have in fact been wearing out the soundtrack to The Great Gatsby, both in my car & at home. The version I have so smugly selected for this blog, however, is terrible. Unfortunately, it is beyond my skills and powers to remove the fucking thing from this post, so we are all stuck with it. My apologies.

Yes I've posted it twice. Concluded.

Freedom

I am a support worker for kids in detention. They come from many countries, including but not limited to Afghanistan, Sri Lanka, Burma, Iran, Vietnam. They are mostly boys, under the age of 18, who have travelled here, by boat, without parents.
Some have no parents. Some have one parent. Many have 2 parents. Just not in Australia.
Some have nothing but a plastic bag with a change of clothes.
Some have designer sunglasses and expensive shoes.
Some have stories of war, missing fathers, uncles, brothers.
Some have never been given a chance. By their community, their government, their society.
Some just want a good education.
Some didn't want to come here at all. Presumably desperate parents put their children onto boats because it was all they could do.



Some are illiterate. Some speak several languages.
They range in age from 12 - 17.
Here are the positives.
They made it here alive.
They are safe. They have a bed to sleep in, 3 meals a day plus snacks.
They have facilities that include televisions, computer games, pool tables, pingpong, computers.
They are taught English. Some go to school.
They have support from many areas. Support Workers. Welfare Officers. Medical Staff. Case Managers. Teachers.
This is wonderful. I am proud that I live in a country where this is what we do, what we believe in. Compassion. Education. Diversity.

Yet one thing is lacking. Freedom.
They are housed behind 2 wire fences. There is always 2 officers on duty.
They can roam freely around the compound, roughly about 1000m2.
They cannot leave.

They are housed with anywhere from 10-30 other young men. Some have been in detention for over 6 months. Nobody can tell them what comes next.
It is a pleasure to work with these boys. Most call me Mummy, a term I used to abhor but now find sentimental. They are generous, fun, strong individuals, who often have nothing in common but a dream of freedom in Australia. Once the boat trip here would have been the hardest part of the journey. Now it is this. Detention. Jail time without an end date.
It is not compassionate, it is cruel.
It is the most amazing experience of my working life to know these boys. I am humbled everyday and feel richer and wiser for knowing them. I only wish there were more Australian citizens who could experience it, particularly those ignorant enough to hate a group of people they know nothing about.
I am ashamed of our current government for letting this happen. I am terrified of a new government fucking things up even further. And I am very worried about what this initiation into Australia will do to these young men who want nothing more than their freedom.

Reminders

This past week several things have reminded me of what it is to be ALIVE...
Initially it was the breaking in of my new work shoes. Mother trucker those heel blisters are quick to form, strong in stature and determined to create pain. Talk about HELLO I'm alive my feet can vouch for that.
I lasted a day in them, now I'm back to my black asics sneakers that I've jogged 100k in and my big toes peak out the end. Damn they are comfy. My job entails a never ending variety of things, including and most often games of ping pong, badminton, walking, talking and chilling so surely running shoes are better equipped for such activities than Flats. Damn Flats.
Feeling alive #2 occurred yesterday afternoon when my across the road down one house neighbour decided to shout at me and my dog as he walked past our house. The amazing Jess does not appreciate pedestrians, unless she knows them as friends or they live directly next to us or across the road. Grumpy old man neighbour does not fit into either category and thus Jess feels it necessary to warn him away from our premises. As I walked toward Jess telling her to quiet down I heard him say something, something I felt was possibly unkind. "Pardon?" I say, giving him a polite but wary smile and placing my hand on my good Dog's head. "Well it's getting a bit beyond a joke" he says "Your dog is barking early in the morning and during the day, it's too much". I stare at him, a mixture of surprise, distaste and annoyance.
Many things run through my mind, both during the encounter and afterward. I'm thrilled to say I managed to speak none of it but hold the combined look for as long as it took until he carried on his merry way. I was left very unsettled, worried that our dog is a terrible nuisance and I am a terrible dog owner.
Can I just follow that sentence with the truth that is our dog has been to obedience class for over a year, she is walked every day & has been her whole life and my Mum has been staying with us the past 10 days and says Jess barks maybe twice a day & only at strangers passing by.
Moral of the story is she is a good dog and I am totally a terrific dog owner.
Yet I still felt this strange inner turmoil, this uncomfortableness that there should be such conflict between us and our neighbour, who we have actually never spoken to before.
Then Josh came home, I filled him in on the terrible goings on and he said.....
What a Dick.
Problem solved. What a Dick indeed. Sadly for said neighbour he is now officially off my friendly wave list and he is going to have to live with both that and my gorgeous barky dog.
Suffer in your jocks, Dick.
Finally this week has been a sad one, with people bombing the finish line of a marathon, earthquakes in the middle east, clients I have grown semi attached to leaving my workplace and a friends father passing away suddenly. It all reminds me of how fleeting this life is, how lucky I am to be safe and loved. Thank you for reading and may all of you, including grumpy old neighbour, love and be loved as much as we can for as long as we may.