What I'm doing here

21 years

2016-02-11T00:13:00.000+11:00

This time 21 years ago, I was hauled off to the Mercy hospital in the early stages of labour. Not yet twenty-one myself, suddenly it hit me, I was about to become a mother.

I remember telling the midwife that I wanted to go home. I've changed my mind, I said, I don't think I can go through with this.

Having seen this kind of thing before, she gently touched my hand and said, it will all be second nature once your baby is here.

Just before my father had passed away some four months earlier, he told me that having this baby would be the most perfect thing I'd ever do.

Fast forward 21 years and I certainly can't say it has been perfect... I've made a ton of mistakes along the way, but in so many ways I was still a child figuring things out myself.

And yet, despite my fears, and lack of life experience, from the second my baby boy was born, I knew that all I wanted to do was love him.

It's a funny thing how one moment you only have yourself to contend with and then the next minute you are catapulted into motherhood.

I had barely been able to take care of myself up until that point and then suddenly I was taking responsibility for this tiny, helpless being.

But the midwife was right. From the moment Jaiden was born I became overwhelmed with a primal need to protect him and I knew that I would move heaven and earth to keep him safe.

It's almost impossible to believe that 21 years have passed since that night in the hospital. That next morning and the hours and days that followed remain permanently etched in my mind. I can still recall the way it felt to be so fundamentally needed.

He depended on me for everything and though I'd been entirely self-absorbed up until that point, I was humbled by the experience and I absolutely loved being his mum. I still do...

After being a mum for so long it is an adjustment when your kids grow up and forge their independence. I am not needed like I was when my boy was little and that's the way it's supposed to go.

If you do your job right and I have done mine to the best of my ability, then they eventually saddle off into the world as capable adults.

But watching your kids grow up is a very bitter sweet experience. When they are born we cannot wait to tick off all the important steps and milestones and yet when they grow up we cannot help but feel nostalgic for the past.

Every birthday takes us that bit further away from the beginning and there is a strange sense of loss that sits side by side the pride we feel in our hearts.

I couldn't be more proud of my son and I wouldn't choose a different experience. He is everything I hoped he would be, and more incredible than I could have even imagined.

But on this eve of his 21st birthday, the biggest milestone of them all, I find myself feeling nostalgic and perhaps a little melancholy about how quickly those 21 years went by.

Happy 21st birthday Jaiden James. I love you.

The Forced Closure of Remote Indigenous Communities: Another Racist Policy

2015-05-03T15:48:00.001+10:00

The forced closure of remote Aboriginal communities is being touted as a necessary decision by the West Australian Government.

Last year, WA Premier, Colin Barnett announced his plans to close 150 of the 274 remote Aboriginal communities after the Federal Government decided it would no longer foot the bill for municipal and essential services to remote communities.

These services, which include the provision of remote housing in WA, Tasmania and Victoria, are said to cost the Federal Government $1 billion annually. Yet despite being offered an additional $90 million over two years, the WA Government has argued that it will not continue to service these communities as they are no longer economically viable.

Since the time of colonisation, Indigenous Australians have had to deal with the consequences of racism and racist policies. The forced removal of Aboriginal children and the practice of white assimilation may be policies of the past, yet they have caused intergenerational damage to Aboriginal families. The incarceration of an entire generation of Aboriginal men and the continuing tragedy of Aboriginal deaths in custody; higher than average rates of suicide, and the cycle of drug and alcohol dependence all occur as a direct result of continued dispossession and disillusionment.

This forced closure of Indigenous communities is another racist policy that would never be applied to white Australians. This decision harks back to a time of colonial dispossession when many Aboriginal people were uprooted and displaced. Those that survived the massacres were forced to work for white farmers or move to town camps. It wasn't until the 1970's that Aboriginal people were able to return to their 'country' and communities were established.

To force Aboriginal people out of their communities is not only a racist policy, but one that breaches the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, a declaration endorsed by Australia in 2009.

In accordance with the declaration, governments and corporations are expected to negotiate with, and obtain consent of Indigenous peoples before taking actions that affect them.

The decision to close these communities breaches a number of rights in this declaration, including the people's right to their land, and the rights of people to participate in decisions that affect their lives.

According to article 8: States shall provide effective mechanisms for the prevention of, and readdress for:
B). Any action which has the aim or effect of dispossessing them from their lands, territories or resources;
C). Any form of forced population transfer;
D). Any form of forced assimilation or integration.

Article 10 states: "Indigenous peoples shall not be forcibly removed from their lands or territories. No relocation shall take place without the free, prior and informed consent of the peoples concerned, and after agreement on fair and just compensation, and where possible, with the option of return".

Living on community is integral to the identity, health and mental, emotional and spiritual wellbeing of Aboriginal people who have continued to defend their right to live on their land. Irrespective of the small size and remote location of these communities, it remains unconscionable to force people to leave their homes and be once again uprooted from 'country'. And while these are the decisions of the WA Government, they arise from decisions of the Federal Government in their attempt to shift the financial responsibility.

If this is truly an issue of sustainability and viability, then the potential psychosocial costs to Aboriginal people must also be taken into account. Governments have a duty of care to ensure that their actions do not adversely affect the outcomes of all Australian people. More importantly, the Federal Government has a responsibility to uphold the conditions of the United Nations Declaration and to ensure that Indigenous Australians are never again subjected to the sort of racist policies that have underpinned our country's history and ruined so many lives.

Goddess Syndrome. Real disorder or just a cry for help?

2015-03-21T14:55:00.002+11:00

Living in the Rainbow Region for the last eight years has opened my eyes to a new epidemic ... That's right, I'm talking about 'Goddess Syndrome'!

Although you will not find this syndrome in the current DSM-IV, Goddess Syndrome (GS) is nevertheless a very real disorder in which self-centred, narcissistic women attempt to hide their misery behind the facade of a fictional loving, self-empowered goddess.

Women afflicted with GS will often try to lure other naive women into an empowerment circle by offering free or inexpensive seminar's entitled ' Awakening your Kundalini Energy' or 'Discover the Goddess Within'. Sometimes they will also refer to these gatherings as conferences.

GS women will frequently use terms such as, blessings, chakras, abundance, healing, gratitude, energy and manifest - even when these words clearly do not belong in a sentence.

Although GS sufferers rarely work, they appear to have an endless source of income which they use to finance regular trips to India and Bali.

Women afflicted with GS are forever leaving their children with people they just met so they can go off and attend the latest dance workshop or healing seminar on tantra, shamanism or reiki.

Due to the nature of this syndrome, GS sufferers do not realise they are being manipulated by high class charlatans, fraudsters and gurus, and nor do they realise that they like to manipulate others.

Sufferers will do anything and everything to manifest goddess reality, including taking what they can from others repeatedly, without ever giving back.

Recent research has found that frequent trips to Bali are often a cry for help for GS sufferers who can become easily bored and agitated in their day-to-day surroundings, particularly if their rental does not include a pool.

Although the dreaded Goddess Syndrome does not discriminate against age, it does seem to affect white middle-class women more frequently and particularly those who have come from affluent backgrounds.

A strong sense of self-entitlement and self-interest does seem to be a key determinant in the onset of this disorder.

The typical goddesses home environment is laden with crystals, astrology charts and Native American artefacts sourced from China or Indonesia. On the coffee table there are often open decks of angel and / or unicorn cards, and a well thumbed copy of 'The Secret' by Rhonda Byrne.

The strong scent of Nag Champa will often permeate the GS home alongside the stale smell of body odour. GS people are strongly opposed to deodorants and any other harsh chemicals that may harm the environment.

Although GS sufferers do not follow a prescribed religion, they do follow the Hindu tradition of vegetarianism and / or veganism. During times of fasting (also known as a full-body juice cleanse) many GS women also swear off alcohol consumption. (Although I have seen some of these ladies down a keg of chardonnay on a lonely Friday night).

One key feature of GS is delusional or magical thinking. The belief that everything happens for a reason is crucial to GS sufferers who constantly look for ways to confirm this belief to themselves and anyone else who will listen. Please see example 1. below.

Example 1:

Goddess A: My rich father had two spare tickets to Bali next month and he just gave them to me!

Goddess B: That's so amazing! My guru is going to be in Bali next month and I have been trying to manifest a free ticket!

Goddess A: No way! You should totally come with me... I am so over my current guru and I've been putting out for another one to come my way!

Goddess A & B in unison: Everything happens for a reason!!!!

Due to their strong belief systems, GS sufferers are commonly allergic to any negativity or anything that doesn't correspond with their magical positive world view. As such, world news and current affairs can be damaging.

If you start talking about Gaza, Afghanistan, Syria, Sudan or any world event where good people are suffering for no good reason, GS women may actually start to twitch and in some rare cases their eyes may roll back in their heads. This is not recommended. Logic and reason have no place in the GS mindset so keep the negative world speak to an absolute minimum so as not to burst the magical white, western, middle-class bubble.

Research shows that many GS women lack the ability to discipline their children due to their heightened fear of the word 'NO'. Years of magical thinking has led to the false belief that discipline equals negativity and any negativity will damage the child's soul, spirit, psyche.

The children of GS sufferers are generally raised vegan or vegetarian and as such, they are easily recognisable due to their pasty, white complexions and constant snotty noses.

These children are also commonly deprived of regular kid things such as chicken nuggets, chocolate and television and instead, they are given substitutes such as soy hot dogs, carob and German handmade wooden toys.

While there is no evidence of harm to these GS children, studies do show a decrease in vitamin B and an increase in self-entitlement and obnoxious behaviour.

GS children are also easily identifiable by their constant whining and complaining. They are often found climbing on other people's furniture; punching or kicking other people's children and animals; biting, screaming, spitting, running or throwing themselves aggressively on the ground for no good reason.

If you see a GS child doing any of these things - please do not try to intervene. It is likely you will be accused of trying to stop them from expressing their emotions / individuality.

Instead of trying to scold the child in an attempt to stop him from throwing lit matches at your face, simply step aside and wait until the GS mother steps in. She will commonly try to resolve his bad behaviour by kissing him, praising him or patting him lovingly on the head - techniques she acquired from her tantric sacred mothers conference in Ubud last year.

Unfortunately there is no cure for GS at present. However, through fundraising events, such as vegan sausage sizzles and carob chocolate drives, we hope to one day bring an end to the pointless suffering imposed on those poor souls who know someone with this illness.

If you or anyone you know is suffering from GS please see your GP immediately...

Yes you could also see your Herbalist / Naturopath/Reiki Master/ Acupuncturist/ Kinesiologist/Bowen Practitioner/ Energy Worker etc.

Alternatively, turn on your bloody television and get a regular dose of world news.

Blessings.... And Om-shanti-Om.

If you identify with this post then that is purely coincidental! This is a satirical 'tongue in cheek' fictional observation and not intended to upset anyone.
____________

I Stand For Mercy

2015-02-14T23:48:00.001+11:00

Like so many of you who stand for mercy, I vehemently oppose the legal execution of my fellow Australians, Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran.

While I do not excuse the seriousness of their crimes, or diminish the potential impact their actions had on the wider community, I cannot in any good conscience disregard the value of human life in order to justify state sanctioned murder.

 The primary objective of modern day capital punishment is to act as a deterrent, however in places like Indonesia where drug smuggling has long been punishable by death, the rate of trafficking has not ceased or diminished.

 Capital punishment is an archaic and barbaric practice, deeply rooted in the ethos of retribution and revenge and in any modern, civil society, there is simply no good argument that can hold up in its favour.

We know now from DNA testing that an incomprehensible number of innocent people, (predominately African Americans) have been wrongly executed in places like Texas. If capital punishment was still practiced in Australia then an infinite number of Indigenous people would have been executed and Lindy Chamberlain would not be alive today.

In 2005, Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran were sentenced to death in Indonesia for attempting to smuggle heroin from Bali into Australia, as part of a group dubbed The Bali Nine. Both Chan and Sukumaran were infamously singled out as the ringleaders of the group by the mainstream Australian media; a title which ultimately helped secure the death penalty sentence.

Although the real king pins behind the Bali Nine smuggling operation have never actually been caught, both Chan and Sukumaran have spent ten torturous years languishing in a Balinese prison. And yet even in these impossibly dark and hopeless circumstances, the men have managed to find hope and enough light to turn their lives around and show clear signs of remorse and rehabilitation.

Chan has turned to prayer and counselling, showing remarkable acts of compassion for fellow prisoners, while Sukumaran has found solace and confidence in portraiture and art. Both men are not the same people they were a decade ago and yet all efforts to learn and grow from their mistakes have been entirely disregarded.

Despite the legal appeals for clemency and the growing pleas for mercy, it appears unlikely that the two Australians will be granted a final reprieve. And while talks are continuing between Canberra and Jakarta, the new Indonesian President, Joko Widodo has made it virtually impossible for the Australian Government to negotiate a pardon.

Ironically, clemency was actually granted for Chan and Sukumaran under the previous Indonesian Government when the two men were informally granted the right to serve out their sentences on death row. However, in a cruel twist of fate, the new Indonesian President has cracked down on all prisoners convicted of drug offences, stating that there will be no pardon given to those currently serving sentences on death row.

If anything, the new Indonesian Government should be marketing its ability to rehabilitate death row prisoners such as Chan and Sukumaran; an achievement rarely seen in other prisons around the world.

Both men are now in a prime position to educate Juvenile offenders caught up in the Indonesian drug scene, and potentially prevent them from making similar mistakes. Rehabilitated prisoners like Chan and Sukumaran form a very real and proactive model with which to fight the war on drugs, and yet instead of harnessing their potential, the government is finalising plans to fire bullets into their hearts.

In an attempt to sway President Joko Widodo, foreign Minister, Julie Bishop has warned that Australians may be forced to boycott Indonesia if the executions of Chan and Sukumaran go ahead.

 
"I think the Australian people will demonstrate their deep disapproval of this action, including by making decisions about where they wish to holiday," she said.

While I can understand Julie Bishop's desire to enlist Australians against the Indonesian Government, I don't think it is wise to discourage Australians from travelling to Indonesia, particularly when the vast majority of Australians tend to migrate to Bali.

 
Statements such as these will not alter the decisions made by officials in Jakarta, but they do have the potential to threaten Bali's tourism industry and in turn disrupt the livelihood of many Balinese.

The 2002 Bali bombing had many ramifications for the tourism industry in Indonesia but for Bali, the attack ripped the heart out of the island’s tourism industry. In 2002, over 40% of the Balinese working population was employed directly or indirectly by the tourism industry.

In the aftermath of the Bali bombing, international tourism arrival to Bali plummeted and it took well over a year for tourism to show signs of recovery. To boycott travel to Bali in an attempt to punish the Indonesian Government will only backfire in the faces of the gentle Balinese people who are incidentally opposed to capital punishment.

Although the general population of Indonesia is predominately Muslim, over 90% of Balinese people identify as Hindu. And while there is no official Hindu line on capital punishment, Hinduism opposes killing, violence and revenge, and most Hindu people oppose capital punishment.

In an interview that aired on Four Corners last week on the case of Chan and Sukumaran, Balinese people were asked what they thought about the case. Every single person was opposed to the executions and some said they were afraid that if this went ahead, the number of Australians coming to Bali would decrease.

I spent time in Bali just days before the Bali Bombings and again a few years later, and the main thing that had changed was a newfound sense of fear that their lives could be upended by another event that stopped people from visiting the island.

If the Australian Government is serious about putting pressure on Indonesia to stop the executions then they should not be doing so at a cost to the Balinese people. There are other ways to affect change and they might start by examining why the Australian Federal Police appeared on Four Corners last week stating that they would not do anything differently if the same situation presented itself again.

The AFP acted following a tip off by the father of Scott Rush, one of the younger Bali Nine members. Mr. Rush phoned the AFP to warn them that his son was about to do something stupid, but he made that call in a desperate attempt to protect his son from being caught trafficking drugs through Indonesia.

However, instead of intervening to protect the boy from being arrested in a country that executes drug traffickers, the AFP alerted the Indonesian authorities about their suspicions. Instead of waiting to arrest the group once they had landed in Australia, the AFP effectively handed the group over to the Indonesian authorities.

Since then, the Australian Government has had ten years to put pressure on the Indonesian Government to pardon Chan and Sukumaran. Why they waited until the final hour is beyond me.

I can only assume that they were acting on the good faith of the previous Indonesian President, on an assurance that the men would live out their sentences in prison. If the new president does indeed ignore the Australian Government pleas for clemency then it is up to the Australian Government to respond in a manner that hurts the Indonesian Government, and not the people.

Nothing good can come from this nightmare, not for the families of Chan and Sukumaran or for Indonesia. Killing these two men will not dent the war on drugs, and the drug deaths and overdoses will continue to plague the country until they begin to rethink their entire approach to drug reform.

Addiction is treated as a criminal issue and so we have prisons overflowing with addicts who were arrested in the throws of their disease. In actual fact, addiction is a health issue and one that warrants a radically new approach, not just in Indonesia but also in Australia and the US and the UK and in all countries where the war on drugs is failing.

Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran are not bad people. They are not cruel, evil, violent men who cannot feel remorse or be rehabilitated. They made a mistake, a costly mistake at a time when they were young, stupid, bulletproof, but they have been paying for that mistake for the last 10 years. They could so easily be my son; your son, friend, nephew or brother and they do not deserve to pay for their mistake with their lives.

How a mentally ill man was able to bring Sydney to a grinding halt.

2014-12-18T20:58:00.001+11:00

Like so many Australians, I watched in horror and disbelief as the siege in Sydney's Martin Place unfolded on Monday morning. At around 10am, we were told that a gunman had stormed the Lindt Cafe in Sydney's CBD taking between 15 and 50 hostages. Within an hour, Sydney was in a state of emergency lockdown. People on the floors above the cafe were escorted down ladders to safety, and the channel 7 offices, directly across the road from the Lindt cafe, were emptied of staff. Elsewhere in the CBD, people were forced to remain indoors and the Opera House was immediately closed and evacuated. Emergency services, special forces units and the bomb squad were mobilised around the perimeter of the cafe, and hostage negotiators were put in place.

The highly sophisticated security measures were praised for providing safety and reassurance to a frightened and bewildered public, but they also fed into the false and misleading narrative that Sydney was under attack.

Little was known about the gunman or his motive until much later that day, however to some news sources, the mere presence of a black flag with white Islamic writing was ample confirmation of an ISIS terrorist attack. Rupert Murdoch's 'Daily Telegraph' reported the siege as an attack by the IS Death Cult in its 2pm edition, despite failing to validate this information. Throughout the 16 hour siege, interviews with terrorism experts were screened on the ABC, SBS and all commercial stations. Analysts likened the siege to the London, Madrid and Boston terrorist attacks, even long after the police had ruled out links between the gunman and terrorist networks.

By mid afternoon, the gunman was publicly identified as Man Harin Monis, a lone wolf previously known to police for his incredibly checkered criminal past, including the suspected brutal murder of his ex- wife, and 40 charges of sexual assault. The media were also quick to inform us that Monis was also an Iranian Refugee in receipt of Centrelink benefits; a self- appointed Islamic Cleric; a self-styled Islamic Sheikh and an Islamic extremist.

The fact that Monis had a long history of violence against women was nowhere near as compelling as his history with religious extremism, especially when the latter could be positioned to justify a terrorist agenda. The letters Monis sent to the families of slain Australian soldiers were undoubtedly reprehensible but so too was the brutal murder of his ex-wife and the string of sexual assaults against women. However, these crimes failed to rate a mention in the Prime Minister's press briefing, presumably because they didn't fit the convenient terrorist profile.

"What we do know is that the perpetrator was well known to State and Commonwealth authorities. He had a long history of violent crime, infatuation with extremism and mental instability. We know that he sent offensive letters to the families of Australian soldiers killed in Afghanistan and was found guilty of offences related to this. We also know that he posted graphic extremist material online. As the siege unfolded yesterday, he sought to cloak his actions with the symbolism of the ISIL death cult." Tony Abbott.

Tony Abbott's decision to use words such as, 'ISIL', 'death cult', 'terror' and 'extremism' in his subsequent press briefings was certainly not accidental. Abbott later described the siege as a 'brush with terrorism' despite knowing that Monis was a mentally deranged individual acting alone. And in the aftermath of the siege on Tuesday when the facts were well established, the Prime Minister repeatedly lamented the fact that Monis was not on any of the terror watch lists. This statement seemed dubious to me until I realised that the terrorist narrative was playing right into the government's hands in terms of its asylum seeker policy, anti terror laws and its views on meta data retention. Any future decisions or changes to legislation could be justified under the pretence that Man Haron Monis the terrorist / refugee had slipped through the cracks of a broken system.

And it didn't end there. In the wake of the Martin Place siege, the NSW police commissioner reactivated Operation Hammerhead, which saw an increased police presence on Sydney's streets despite the fact that Man Haron Monis was dead and city was no more or less dangerous than it was on the day prior to the tragedy. One officer described the fear on people's faces as he walked around the CBD, saying 'the public are visibly scared and you can see it in their eyes'. Conceivably, the increased police presence would be the very thing driving up public fear, however real or imagined the threat may be.

There is no denying that this despicable event had a sobering effect on the people of Sydney and the wider Australian community. This has been observed in the outpouring of grief and support for the hostages and their families and in the impressive array of floral tributes that continue to grow in Martin Place. However, perhaps the most positive thing to emerge from the tragedy is the #illridewithyou campaign. The campaign sprung to life after a female Sydney commuter offered to ride with a Muslim woman on the train after she was seen removing her Hijab in fear of a racist retaliation. The gesture resulted with the hashtag trending worldwide and it was still trending three days later.

That the tragedy appears to have galvanised the wider community to unite against acts of racism, at least on public transport, is a good thing. However, #illridewithyou is speaking to a very specific kind of racism; the same kind of Islamophobia that is drummed up and pushed along by people like Tony Abbott and Rupert Murdoch, along with other factions of the media in any given news cycle. Seeking to paint Monis as a terrorist may have backfired in the faces of those who were invested in its success, but we must ask ourselves why the Mulsim / Terrorist narrative was eager to gain so much traction in the first place.

The fact is, Monis' is dead and we will never know why he did what he did. But from everything we do know, it seems unlikely that his actions were driven by political or religious motivation, but rather by his own personal grievances with the system. We know that he had grievances with the courts over his conviction for writing letters and he had very recently taken those grievances all the way to the high court where his case was subsequently thrown out. Following his High Court appearance, there was no further legal recourse for Monis to have those grievances heard. Monis also had grievances over the way he was treated (he says tortured) in prison and he had taken to the streets in the past to air those grievances to the media. Given that one of his requests was to speak to Tony Abbott, it's highly possible that he used the siege as an attempt to air those grievances to the Prime Minister.

No matter which way you look at it, this was clearly a deeply disturbed individual, who orchestrated a particularly evil act and he should not have been allowed on the streets, let alone permitted to hold a gun license. However, that more weight has been given to his religious affiliation than his mental instability or his crimes against women, speaks volumes.

The fact that Monis asked for an ISIS flag should have held no more weight than if he had asked for a Christmas tree or a purple people eater. He was a sick man who used the fiercely threatening symbolism of ISIS to make his deranged demands seem more threatening. He knew that he would be taken more seriously with the flag than without it, and the sad thing is he was right. An entire city took this madman very seriously and we need to ask ourselves why.

If the flag in the cafe window did not contain Islamic text then it's safe to say that the siege would have been reported as a hostage situation and not a terrorist attack. Only a few days earlier a man took two people hostage in a house in Brunswick, Melbourne and the only words used to describe him were ' a man'. When Anders Brevick blew up government buildings in Norway, killing 8 people before shooting dead 69 more, he was labelled a paranoid schizophrenic. Though he was later convicted of mass murder and terrorism, the Christian people in Norway did not fear a racist / cultural backlash because of his right-wing militant ideology. The fact that Brevick was a Christian extremist meant that his religious affiliation did not receive anywhere near the same media traction that Monis' has achieved.

Yet how many editorials have we read in the past few days about Man Harin Monis with the word 'terrorism' in the title? Too many to count. The truth is we were so quick to paint Monis as a terrorist that the facts became incidental, beside the point. The terrorist narrative took off at a speed that made it unstoppable even once it had been established that this was not a home grown terrorist, but rather a mentally unstable, middle-aged man. I would never defend any act of violence, political or otherwise, and what Monis did was heinous and despicable. But we need to ask ourselves why the extremist / fundamentalist narrative was so quick to bolt from the gate and we ought to be bloody skeptical the next time we sense it being tailored to fit down our throats.

Seven Years On...

2014-12-07T09:29:00.000+11:00

5.30am: 7/7/14

Today is the seventh day of December and the seventh anniversary of your death. It's 5.30am and exactly one and a half hours before the phone rang that morning and I heard your mother tell me you were gone. Every anniversary since then, I have woken up before 7am, as if my subconscious clock is trying to beat time at its own game and stop that moment from occurring.

For me, 7am marks the beginning of the horror but I could not have known then that you had left this world hours before, at some point during the night, and your mother was just waiting until a reasonable hour to call. I did not find that out until much later.

In this moment seven years ago, I was still fast asleep and dreaming of you, still totally oblivious to what was waiting for me when I opened my eyes. I was dreaming vividly about our wedding day, no doubt because of the plans we had been making the day before, and I physically felt you slide the wedding ring onto my hand. When the phone rang and vibrated across my bedside table at such an early hour, I just assumed it was you and I answered it with a wry high smile on my face, still floating down from the blissful dream but eager to give you a hard time for pulling me out of it. "Hey baby".... I heard myself say, "I was just having the most amazing dream and I felt you place"... but then a woman's voice cut me off.

A few days later I wondered if maybe, just maybe, in those strange hours between darkness and dawn, not long after your soul had left your body, you did actually slip that ring on my finger. I wish I could remember that feeling and hold onto that dream but all I have is the end of the dream and the beginning of the nightmare, the moment of intersection, the collision between two completely opposing worlds: before and after.

For a long time it all felt like a bad dream and I struggled to find my place in the brave new world. I had to learn how to be human again, to feign normality again, to do everything people expected of me; to smile and laugh, to talk and relate, to be present with friends and family. But I barely recognised myself in the mirror and it took a long time to get used to this new person parading as me. My only real comfort came from the darkness as it gave me a sense of respite from the exhausting daily ritual of trying to appear "normal", to pretend that I was "improving", and to assure others that I was going to be "ok".

In truth, I did not know if I would ever be ok. I was not coping and I broke down and wept every time I was alone; in the privacy of my car, in public toilets, behind sunglasses, in car parks and in alleys. It felt like there was literally no escape from the relentless reminder that you were never coming back. This was real and I couldn't find anywhere big enough to hide or anywhere far away enough to outrun it. Trying to make people feel better about my grief became an additional struggle, a thankless task that soon became exhausting. I started to hide away from the world and decline invitations to dinners, parties and coffee to the point where people just stopped asking. I was grateful for that because it meant I no longer had to lie or make up excuses.

I started to sleep for long periods and as often as I could, whenever I had the chance. Sleep was the only place I could go for relief. But I could never truly forget...My dreams were always haunted by the the image of his face, his eyes, his hands, in various distortions. I started having a recurring dream that lasted for five years where I would catch a glimpse of him on a train or around a corner and I would chase him for miles but never catch up to him as he was always one step ahead. I started to tell myself that he was still alive, that he just didn't want to be with me anymore and somehow that scenario seemed more palpable. Then the dream changed its shape and it was always the same phone call in which he would casually tell me that he was alive and he had just forgotten to call me for the last few years. The unconscious mind trying to carry out wish fulfilment I suppose.

Some people say that seven years is a long time to mourn somebody and I suppose that may be true, except Chance Hall was not just somebody to me. He was the love of my life, the soul for my soul, and the only person with whom I have ever felt truly myself. Being with him felt like going home, like finding the missing pieces of yourself so that you finally feel whole, at peace and utterly complete. I was so deeply in love with him in a way that I have never loved anyone else and he was equally and as deeply in love with me. To suddenly wake up and learn that I would never see him, never smell him or touch him again - nothing can prepare a person for that. I am not the same person that I was before he died and when I look back at old photographs of me I can barely recognise that girl with the smug little smirk and the stars in her eyes. A person cannot live through this kind of loss and come through intact. The shock alone changes a persons DNA.

My maternal grandmother was widowed at age 36 (just three years older than me) and she wore black for the next 20 years. As a kid I never understood why she didn't remarry but now I understand completely and I can respect that. The man she loved was gone and there was no other soul for her soul. Just like my grandmother, my other half was taken from me and it's taken me seven years to fully accept that. But even though I accept it now, that doesn't mean I want to be with somebody, anybody just for the sake of being with somebody, anybody. I just wish people would accept that about me. I am perfectly content with my decision.

People say time heals all wounds and I used to think those people were assholes but I don't really think that anymore. What I do think is that time just takes you further and further away from the raw and brutal moment of truth so that you gradually become more immune to the pain. Human beings can get used to anything and so I guess that is what has happened with me. That is what I think they mean by acceptance - in time you learn to accept the pain as another part of your narrative, it becomes part of your DNA.

Losing Chance has clearly become part of my narrative, but it does not define who I am. Loving him and being loved by him is equally a part of my story and I am comforted by the time we spent together. For a long time I was willing to trade off the relationship if it meant I could erase the marks that his death had left upon me. Now I wouldn't dream of giving up a single moment of time with that precious man. Our love story may have been fleeting and I was cheated out of my happy ending, but I was lucky enough to know love in all of its glory; in its unbridled joy and its equally magnanimous heartache. At the end of the day, when all the dust has settled, I found my one true love and I am no longer searching for anyone. Nothing is ever truly lost, especially not love and that is what I choose to remember most on this day. RIP Chance Hall. I will love you forever.

Nobody Ever Thinks They Will Become A Refugee

2014-07-22T18:55:00.000+10:00

Nobody ever thinks they will become a refugee.

For many of us, war only happens in far away regions, in wastelands already battered and torn, in places like Iraq or Afghanistan where buildings fall as casually as snow and the stench of death permeates the air.

Many of us were lucky enough to be born into good geography. We rest easy knowing our borders are protected and our leaders equipped to protect us from any real threat of danger. And yet even though so few of us have any lived experience of war, almost every one of us has an opinion on the plight of those who have.

At what point I ask myself did “Australians” start believing that it was our right to dictate how people should respond to war? At what point did we decide that we knew better than those who have survived the loss of their country, their homes, their families, their culture and their identities?

From the safety of our civilised cities and the comfort of our homes, we judge the plight of refugees who have entered our country by sea, and we do it without batting an eyelid at the countless number of white immigrants who have arrived here by plane, and overstayed their visas.

We rarely even contemplate the fact that there are more New Zealanders living and working in Australia than the combined number of refugees who have ever sought asylum by boat and if it were a boatload of Kiwis or Poms or Yanks fleeing the same dangers, it’s unlikely that the response would be anywhere near as loud or as ugly. White people arriving in Australia rarely make the news, though perhaps that is because they don’t make us quite as nervous.

In newspapers and on television, on social media and talkback radio, we talk about boatloads and masses and hoards and waves and swarms of refugees as though we are describing a plague of wildebeests rather than human beings.

So rarely are we given any access or insight to the individuals displaced by war that we are unable to make any connection with those who love and hurt and fear and dream and hope just as we do. Instead we see all refugees as a nameless, faceless annoyance; a threat to our common values and a stain on our society.

We listen as our leaders apply concepts of right and wrong, of legal versus illegal, front door versus back door and boat versus plane. They boil the debate down to a matter of ‘choice’ as though there is any choice afforded to those caught up in conflicts fought by powerful men who view them as collateral damage.

Many of you have sided with our government and backed their cruel and inhumane approach to people seeking asylum. You agree that it is right and just to lock innocent people away in barbaric concentration camps, to immerse those already traumatised into new climates of hopelessness where cruelty and corruption thrive unnoticed.

And despite the unimaginable cruelty of war, the time already spent languishing in camps, and the terrifying journey across the open seas, you still feel they deserve to be locked away and punished, indefinitely, because it sends a clearer message.

“We will decide who gets into this country and the manner in which they arrive”.

Over the years, we have been fooled into believing that there is a right way to flee the horror of war, without ever bothering to investigate what happens to people left scrambling for some semblance of hope and identity.

Many of you have swallowed the rhetoric employed by this government and factions of the media who work to enforce the false illusion of choice. Terms such as cue jumpers, boat people, illegal immigrants and illegal aliens are tossed about cavalierly to describe families fleeing the kind of horror that you and I could never imagine.

In countries already ravaged by war there is often no embassy for people to lodge their claims. And in many cases, more often than not, people don’t have time to gather their belongings, and it isn’t uncommon for identity papers, family photos and so forth to have been bombed or destroyed.

When our government speaks about refugees forming an orderly queue, it’s as if they are describing the scene outside a rock concert or a football match, rather than a scene of disorganised terror and chaos. In a war zone the only line you will find yourself in is the line of fire.

But our government has never told you the truth. Why? Because dangling a solution in our faces is an easy way to secure votes. For instance, when we believe that our way of life is being threatened we look to our government for a solution. Nobody wants this country to lose control of our borders, and nobody wants to be invaded. So by whipping up a border protection crisis, people are more likely to vote for the party who will attend to that crisis. The more fear the government can generate, the more we look to them for a solution, and the more power they yield over us in an election. In truth, there is no border protection crisis and no pending invasion. That is just a bullshit story you have been sold.

Believe it or not, Australia is a signatory to the United Nations Refugee Convention, which means that people fleeing persecution are legally entitled to seek refuge in Australia with or without valid documentation. They also legally allowed to arrive here by boat or by plane, or by parachute if they have no other option.

And although it is true that there are hundreds of thousands of equally valid refugees languishing in camps, the process of granting visas is impossibly slow and with millions of displaced persons in the world and Australia only granting a disproportionately low number of humanitarian visas each year, (that number has just been decreased) visas can often take decades to materialise if they materialise at all. However, it is not true that one person arriving by boat will take the place of another person waiting in a camp and neither way is wrong or illegal, regardless of the lies we have been sold.

Another false myth is that asylum seekers are taking Australian jobs and living off government benefits. Despite the common misconception that all brown skinned people arrived here as refugees, Australia actually accepts a small number of refugees compared to skilled migrants each year.

Most of the people you see driving your cabs and working in your convenience stores have come here invited on skilled migrant visas and not as refugees. Also, once people arrive in Australia seeking asylum they are immediately taken to a remote location, either Manus, Naru or Christmas Island and detained in an immigration centre for offshore processing. In the past asylum seekers were not permitted to work until their refugee status had been approved and they were not entitled to receive benefits or use Medicare until they were granted Australian Citizenship, which could take between two to five years. Now of course those rules no longer apply because we are not settling anymore asylum seekers in Australia.

In the past, some refugees were granted temporary protection visas (TPV) or bridging visas upon their release detention. These visas entitled them to stay in the country for three years in the hope that their previous living situation would improve. However, many were forced to return to dangerous living conditions in their country of origin because these visas did not permit them to work or receive any government benefits. The only way they could survive and provide for their children was by relying on donations from non- government organisations, like the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre.

And for those refugees lucky enough to be granted permanent residency in Australia, their rights as Australian citizens should not be viewed any differently to yours or mine. In other words, unless you are a descendent of the first nations people, then you are here because your ancestors came here as migrants or refugees and that makes you no more or less of an Australian than those refugees who have been granted permanent residency.

Many of you argue that you would never seek asylum by boat. You claim there is a right way to enter this country through the ‘front door’ designed for genuine refugees. And like this government and the one before it, you have effectively used the deaths at sea as a defence for your argument, basically suggesting that no responsible white skinned parent would place their child in the kind of danger we have witnessed at sea.

And yet for the government’s attempt to ‘stop the boats and stop the deaths at sea’ countless lives are being put at risk through the sanctioned mental, emotional and physical torture taking place in these offshore camps. It is an absurd idea that offshore processing is designed to stop deaths at sea, particularly in light of recent events where a boatload of Tamil asylum seekers were sent back to Sri Lanka, despite the current travel warnings for westerners to avoid the destination.

Evidently the government is indifferent to the real threat of rape, torture, mutilation and death; real dangers from which these families were desperately trying to escape. On those dangers, this government is silent.

The vast majority of asylum seekers have never seen the ocean and would not contemplate putting their precious children in small, filthy, overcrowded boats, manned entirely by criminals, on a dangerous voyage to a foreign place with foreign people all speaking a foreign language, unless they were absolutely desperate. Nobody would put their children in that situation unless their lives depended on it.

The human survival instinct is strong, and it is hard wired into every one of us regardless of race, culture, or religion. If your only option for survival came down to fleeing on a boat where you might possibly drown or do nothing knowing that you will be tortured and killed, then we would all fight to survive and to lead our children to safety.

Nobody ever thinks they will become a refugee, but try to imagine for a moment how you would respond if you were forced into that situation.

Why Did Malaysian Airlines Play Russian Roulette With MH17?

2014-07-21T08:23:00.001+10:00

Waking up last Friday to news that a Malaysian Airlines flight had been shot down over East Ukraine, my initial response was that the news reporters were referring to flight MH370.

Finally, I thought, they have found out what really happened to the plane and perhaps now the families can start to find some closure.

Realising of course that the broadcasters were actually describing a new incident, another Malaysian Airlines disaster, this time flight MH17 carrying 298 people, I struggled to make sense of what I was hearing.

In fact, it was only a few weeks ago when I'd commented to my family that there was probably no safer airline at the moment than Malaysian - the logic being that they would have tightened up their security and ticked all the necessary boxes after being involved in one of the worst airline disasters in civil aviation’s history.

Plus, I told myself, lightening doesn’t strike the same person twice, at least not according to the law of averages, and that is the logic so many of us use to reassure ourselves in times of unexplainable tragedy.

2014 has been an horrific year for civil aviation and the worst year for Malaysian Airlines compared with any other Airline in history. Over 520 people have lost their lives flying with the airline in less than six months, and the grief, anger and betrayal felt by the families over the handling of MH370 have undoubtedly hit the airline hard.

And while it seems unlikely that those families will ever truly know what happened to their loved ones, the fate of the passengers onboard flight MH17 has tragically been confirmed. We have been told unequivocally that Pro Russian separatists shot the plane down with a ground to air missile system as it flew over East Ukraine.

And according to recent reports, it seems likely that this was less an act of global terrorism, and more like some kind of bungled attempt by inexperienced rebel fighters who mistook the Boeing 777 for a Ukrainian fighter jet, arguably because they were not expecting commercial jets to be flying over a war zone.

In an alleged voice recording intercepted by the Ukrainian Intelligence Agency, a conversation plays out between a Russian intelligence officer and a separatist commander claiming responsibility for the attack.

"Regrading the plane shot down.... it's a civilian one".

Then in an eerie recording between Cossack commander Nikolay Kozitsin and an unidentified militant, commander Kozitsin is heard to say,

"They shouldn't be fu**ing flying. There is a war going on."

Regardless of whether this was a tragic case of mistaken identity or a deliberate act of terrorism, there is no doubt that Russia must be held to account. This was a high tech Russian made missile launcher, fired by Russian trained separatists in an area where at least three other Ukrainian military aircrafts have recently been shot down. And now voice recognition software allegedly shows the separatists claiming responsibility.

It also appears likely that the Russian government or the Russian military were responsible for arming the rebel fighters with the Buk missile system; the only system capable of such long-range warfare. However, just how this high tech weaponry fell into the hands of a rebel army is yet to be confirmed.

And while we must continue to put pressure on Russia to allow a thorough, impartial investigation, we must also be careful not to lose sight of the fact that both the Civil Aviation Industry and Malaysian Airlines knew that there was a war going on in East Ukraine, and that an alternative flight path was available.

The question as to why a commercial aircraft was permitted to fly anywhere near a contested air space is one that must be answered by the Civil Aviation Industry.

As a result of this disaster, all flights have since been diverted, but those restrictions should have been implemented as soon as the first air strike began. Instead civil aviation merely issued a warning for airlines choosing to continue along this flight path to fly above 31,000 feet.

And yet the doomed flight MH17 was cruising at a 'safe' altitude of 33,000 feet, just 2000 feet above the safe upper limit. I am not expert on matters of civil aviation or warfare, and I don't think anyone could have anticipated this event or predicted that long range missiles would be deployed, but it seems almost unlawful to allow air traffic anywhere over the vicinity of a war zone especially when planes have already knowingly been blown out of the sky.

Every time I have flown anywhere with my children, I have put my complete and unequivocal trust in the airline. I assume that every check and cross-check has been thoroughly implemented and I expect that in the event of any potential danger or risk, I would be informed and the flight delayed, cancelled or diverted.

Not all international airlines chose to continue flying over Eastern Ukraine, in fact Malaysian Airlines was one of only a handful of carriers to continue along the shorter flight path from Europe into Asia. But why then, when they had just experienced the worst international disaster of their history, was Malaysian Airlines willing to take any risks at all?

The answer is that the airline was taking the shorter route from Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur to save on the cost of fuel. It is no secret that Malaysian Airlines are in serious financial trouble, however any savings they may have accrued will be quickly swallowed up by more bad publicity which will presumably equate to less people choosing to fly with the carrier.

And then there is the matter of financial compensation for the families of those who perished. It's plausible that they will be looking to Malaysian Airlines for someone to blame and there is certainly plenty of blame to go around.

So who should carry the burden of financial compensation in this devastating tragedy? Russia? The Civil Aviation Industry? Malaysian Airlines?

If there was a fault in the mechanics or an issue with the engine or anywhere else on the aircraft and the airline chose to fly anyway, then the fault would rest not with the manufacturer, but with the airline that knowingly put its passengers and crew at risk.

Someone had a duty of care to inform those 289 people of the risks they were facing, and the truth is both civil aviation and Malaysian Airlines knew beforehand, what we are only learning now, that they were flying their passengers directly over a war zone.

I don't doubt that neither the airline or the aviation industry could ever have anticipated this level of risk, but in my opinion, Malaysian Airlines should never have been given the choice to keep flying over that contested airspace. Yet the fact remains that they were given a choice, and they choose to fly anyway. Sadly that choice was not extended to their passengers.

Every one of those 289 passengers believed that they were in safe hands when they boarded MH17 at the Amsterdam airport on that fateful day. Not one of those men, women or children were informed that they were going to fly over a war zone and I believe Malaysian Airlines had a duty of care to do so.

I do not proclaim to speak for the deceased, but I do know that if I had been made aware of the situation, and if I knew that other airlines were taking precautions by means of an extended detour, I would never have boarded that flight.

The truth is, those passengers were not forewarned and they were never given a choice, and instead somebody decided to save a few bucks by playing Russian roulette with their lives.

Why victim blaming is not the same thing as teaching our girls to take precautions. My response to the haters.

2013-10-21T22:48:00.001+11:00

Warning: This article deals with rape and sexual assault and may be confronting for some readers.

A few days ago, Mia Freedman wrote a piece about what she described as 'the associated risks between binge drinking and rape', and then just like that, Twitter exploded into a feminist hate fest.

Freedman was arguing that she would feel obligated to educate her daughter about the one thing could reduce the risk of sexual assault, and as a result she was bombarded with abuse and accusations of victim blaming.

Since the piece was published, Freedman's detractors have twisted her words and tried to scare us with a bunch of dazzling facts, like 'only rapists are responsible for rape'. This fact came as a huge surprise because...um... I hadn't previously made that leap myself.

I mean come on people!

We already know that the only person responsible for a sexual assault is the perpetrator of that sexual assault. The victim never is. And we should never blame the victim for the harm they have suffered. Nobody in this debate is arguing that incredibly obvious point and you'd be better off directing these basic arguments at the people who actually think that way.

We also know that more women are raped by men they know and trust. And that rape cannot be prevented by staying sober. But when you choose to highlight some statistics and ignore others, such as the statistic that alcohol and sexual assault are significantly linked, then you are not being fair or honest.

Here are some statistics nobody has bothered to mention:

alcohol-related assaults most commonly occur between 9 pm and 3 am on Friday and Saturday nights (Briscoe & Donnelly 2001a)
a significant proportion of offenders and victims of sexual assault have consumed alcohol and alcohol consumption increases the risk of sexual assault, as victims become less able to detect dangerous situations (Corbin et al 2001; Testa, Vanzile-Tamsen & Livingston 2001)
there is a relationship between seasonal changes, calendar events and major sporting events and the rate of reported incidents of violence, which can in part be explained by the increased level of alcohol consumed on these days (Marcus & Braaf 2007).

I'm sorry but how on earth have we reached a point where starting a discussion about keeping our daughters safe has become so offensive as to infuriate and divide feminists?

I mean sure, I'd love to live in a world where girls / women were not at risk of being raped; a world where we could walk safely down the street alone at night without any increased risk of harm, but I'd also like to marry Ryan Gosling and own a unicorn called Misty.

What I want and what we are dealing with are two entirely different things. And as a result, I am going to base my parental choices and the conversations with my children on the reality and not the utopia.

I am going to tell my daughter the truth when she is old enough to hear it, and the truth is that her ability to make sensible choices will be diminished if she is severely intoxicated. I am going to tell her that being drunk will impair her judgment and her ability to assess risk and respond to harm.

I will also tell her that it isn't fair, and it isn't right and that she should feel outraged and angry that we are even having this conversation and that it is her job to make as much noise about this injustice as she possibly can.

But I will not pretend for a moment that this isn't the world she has inherited.

Clementine Ford is right about one thing, teaching our daughters to be scared isn't going to protect them from shit. However, educating my daughter and scaring the shit out of her is not the same thing.

I do not want my daughter to be afraid and I do not want her to stop living life and having fun.

BUT it is my duty as her mother to educate her about what she is up against, just as it was my duty to teach her about road safety, stranger safety, appropriate and non appropriate touching, and not to shove marbles in her mouth.

Once my daughter has this information, then she can make her own informed choices and if that reduces the risk of her being degraded or hurt by another human being by as little as 1% then I will gladly shout it from the motherfucking rooftops so help me god, hallelujah.

Nobody is actually saying that the onus is on the woman to avoid being raped. Nobody is saying that taking precautions will systematically stop rapes from occurring. But whether we like it or not, women take precautions all the time, when they decide where to park, who to talk to and how to get safely home etc etc... and most women learnt that information from their mothers.

There is nothing remotely wrong with teaching our daughters to take similar precautions. Arguing about what constitutes as victim blaming on social media seems entirely misguided and beside the point, particularly when we have a court system slapping male perpetrators of sexual assault on the wrist while shaming and blaming the female victims of these devastating crimes.

As parents, it is our role to educate our children, male and female, about the dangers that could potentially confront them. But by using the victim blaming label to define the conversations that take place specifically with our daughters, you are basically asking us to leave them out of the conversation.

The truth is the overwhelming majority of sexual assaults will happen to women regardless of whether they are drunk or sober.

Being sober will not stop you from being raped, but being wasted will prevent a whole range of cognitive and physical responses from functioning properly, and when those responses are inhibited or impaired, our ability to detect and defend ourselves from danger is greatly reduced.

Thinking this way and wanting the best for my daughter does not make me a bad feminist. It just makes me a realistic parent and I'm okay with that, even if you are not.

You can read the full article by Mia Freedman here:

http://www.mamamia.com.au/social/sexual-assault-and-alcohol/

And other opinions here:
http://hersute.tumblr.com/post/64804693377/alcohol-is-a-misdirection-when-we-talk-about-rape

And here:
http://www.womensagenda.com.au/talking-about/opinions/to-the-unconvinced-the-perpetrators-of-crime-are-responsible-for-crime/201310213080#.UmXRRYUyEhM.twitter

Delete, Delete, Delete......

2013-09-20T14:01:00.001+10:00

Six years on and all the physical traces of you are slowly but surely disappearing.

All the permanent stamps you thought you left on this world are now gone. I can no longer remember the sound of your voice or the way your laugh erupted into a cacophony, like a flock of kookaburras cackling in harmony, a birdsong of a laugh.

Today I logged onto you’re My Space page to revisit time immemorial, just like I always do when I’m missing you too much, or when the pain of grief becomes too overwhelming to ignore. Only today when I tried to bring up your profile, I realised that the new update had erased every word you’d left behind - everything was gone. All your poetry, all your music, your likes and dislikes, your pictures, and even your relationship status, which you’d pre-emptively and excitedly labelled as ‘married’ to me– all gone. Delete… Delete… Delete.

All the conversations we had on IM messenger have also since been erased, all sucked into the vortex of cyber space without warning - long gone, and now irretrievable. What was once a real time love affair across time and space, a testament to the way we existed for one another, now seems like something I made up, a whole world existing only in my head with the ghosts and the nightmares of your death, all tied up together in my memory.

Six years have come and gone since we were last together and the very last time that I saw your face, you were lying peacefully in a casket. Your eyes were closed, and your hands were clasped, and rested upon your chest, as though you were just quietly sleeping. ‘He’s just asleep’, I told myself, ‘pretend he is just asleep’.

And although I understood from a scientific point of view, the finality of the situation, although I knew objectively that you weren’t ever coming back, part of me still believed that our love was powerful enough to find a way to transcend the rules of death, and that if anyone could, you would find a way to return to me, unharmed.

Losing you was so completely and utterly unexpected that I lost myself in the process. It has taken me all this time just to grieve for the death of myself, to mourn the old ‘me’ who slipped through the cracks of that weatherboard deck at Roses Road, on that cold and fateful morning, where I lay wailing like a wild animal dying, never to return. Trying to wade through the enormity of your death has required all of my hidden resources. Every ounce of my energy has been depleted overtime, and the effort required to rejoin the land of the living, to push on, to keep up the appearance of a brave and happy face, has taken a huge toll on my mental health.

Where once I was strong, confident and resilient, now I am fragile, private, anxious and prone to bouts of overly emotional weeping, and my ability to cope with pain and stress has been fundamentally damaged. Put quite simply, I don’t have anything left.

Contrary to what some people think, grief is not simply limited to the outpouring of public display that happens in the beginning when friends and family rally around you. Nor is it resolved neatly after surpassing the cliched five-stage process and arriving at acceptance. That my friends, is bullshit. Grief is permanent and you have to wade through it every day for the rest of your life, and in private.

And while each anniversary has brought me a small step further on the road to metaphorical healing, in many ways it has felt more like a video game, whereby you go through unexpected hurdles, and fight battle after battle inside your mind just to inch ahead.

And even after six years worth of battles and hurdles, I have still not yet arrived at a place of acceptance and I don’t imagine that I ever will. There is no end in sight for me and I will never clock this video game. Because try as I might, and I have tried so hard, I just cannot get my head around the fundamental premise that no matter what I do, no matter how hard I fight, or how many levels or stages of grief I overcome, I will never, EVER get to the point where I can save you or win you back.

Even in my dreams I am still stumbling around lost, in a blur of unconscious confusion, looking for clues that will lead me to where you are hiding. But there are no clues, except for the ones I make up and even then, they all lead to nowhere.

In a funny way it still makes more sense to me that you have orchestrated an elaborate hoax than it does to imagine that you just vanished from the face of this earth. In all of my pain and my anguish, in all of my denial, plea-bargaining, anger and depression, I still cannot make sense of this loss or find a way to put it in perspective and reach a place of acceptance. To me, acceptance feels like a fucking betrayal and that just doesn’t sit right.

At some point in this long and arduous process, the line between imagining and reality has became so entangled and confused, that I have almost convinced myself that our love will still find a way to survive the event of your death, and in doing so, I have therefore rendered myself open to being deemed mad. But what was the alternative? To fixate on the reality of your death, to accept the death of us, of our love, was so emotionally devastating that I feared I would not survive it.

Imagining another scenario, albeit a departure from reality, has given me some kind of comfort, some semblance of hope. Granted it is entirely irrational and somewhat unhealthy to live in an imaginary place where you are just sitting around waiting for me, or alternatively, a place where I am already there with you. At my core I am a rational person, of zero faith in that which cannot be scientifically proven or reasoned beyond doubt, but in my heart I am just a human being who cannot push forward without hope, and for hope I am willing to sacrifice even that which matters to me most; reason, science and logic.

In all honesty, I don’t know anymore where normal begins or ends for me, because nothing about these last six-years has been normal. One moment we were making love and writing our wedding invitations and the next moment I was watching them lower your body into the ground. How does one make sense of that? How does one find a way to recover from such unimaginable cruelty, such a profound devastation, if not for the glimmer of hope?

If six years on, I can still feel your love all around me and sense your presence when I need you the most, then I will be gladly labelled mad or unfit if it means that in some parallel universe, (that science is yet to discover), you are alive and laughing, and I am not sad or grieving or lost anymore.

When a tantrum is not just an act of defiance

2013-08-14T00:31:00.003+10:00

Have you ever stopped to ask your kids how they think you are doing as a parent? Ever sat down to ask them if there were any areas in which you might improve or do things differently?

Sounds so obvious, right?

As adults, we are constantly giving our children feedback on how they are doing in all aspects of their lives and we spend a great deal of time focussing on their deficits and the ways in which they could improve themselves and their behaviour.

And yet it never occurs to us as parents to turn the tables on ourselves once in a while and to check in with the people who rely on us the most; the little people who are most affected by our behaviour.

Obviously this doesn’t work very well with infants or smaller children, unless of course you want to be told to buy more chocolates and toys. But with older kids, from about the age of 8 upwards, it makes sense that we should be asking for feedback now and again, not only to gain some insight into our role as parents, but to gain a deeper understanding of our children.

More often than not, you'll get the opportunity to create a very enlightening dialogue and you will gain a vital insight into how your own children perceive you. But more importantly, you will be giving your children the chance to open up to you about the way they really feel, and that in turn gives them a sense of validation that you really do care and respect them as autonomous human beings.

My daughter is 11 and lately she has been bursting into tears at the drop of a hat, seemingly over nothing. Most recently the tears started when I told her she had to go to bed and miss the end of Big Brother.

Initially, I knew that she was crying because she wasn’t getting what she wanted, and as the crying turned into a tantrum, I just assumed that it was still Big Brother related, which in turn made me see red that she was still awake and so worked up about a TV show.

But then I remembered something she had told me during one of our check in conversations, and I suddenly realised that it wasn’t about Big Brother anymore at all.

In actual fact, she was upset for a whole number of reasons and for no reason at all.

I won’t go into the list of personal reasons here, suffice to say that pre teen / pre menstruation is proving to have its own set of hormonal challenges that can cause her to feel extreme sadness / real sadness, without really knowing why.

And once the crying is triggered by something seemingly trivial, it can quickly escalate to what almost sounds like guttural pangs of grief, and frustration at not having yet acquired the skills to be able to articulate those intense emotions.

What my daughter needs when she experiences this happening is not for me to ignore her or to become the disciplinarian. What she needs is to be calmed down and reassured that everything is ok.

She needs cuddles and affection, love, tenderness and care, and for me to help her articulate the experience so that she understands it is a normal part of growing up.

Of course this can be difficult for a parent to tune into when the crying is initiated by a tantrum about bedtime or some equally defiant scenario when they aren’t getting what they want. Those kinds of tantrums warrant discipline, and in my house, zero tolerance.

However, it’s imperative that we learn to tell the difference between a childish tantrum of the ego and one that escalates into something else entirely; something your child cannot yet articulate, let alone control.

The only reason I have learnt to tune into what my daughter is feeling and what she actually needs from me in this situation is by checking in with her about how I can be a more effective parent.

We all know by now that an open and free line of communication is the best gift we can give our pre-teen and adolescent kids, but often that is much more difficult to achieve than just asking them how they feel.

Asking teenagers to talk to you about their feelings is like asking them to strip naked in front of their entire family; it can be confronting and overwhelming, particularly when they might not yet have the language to articulate their emotions.

But by taking the focus off the child and placing it back on yourself, you remove any pressure they might feel from being cornered, and you also remove the awkwardness from the situation as you give them permission to share what they need from you at this point in their lives.

Talking to your kids about how you are going as a parent offers them the space to open to you without fear about how they will be perceived. And then when they really need you, they will feel more comfortable expressing that need, and you will feel more in tune with the ways in which you are needed and the ways in which you can do your job.

It’s a win win situation.

Disliking Julia Gillard does not make me a bad feminist

2013-07-01T20:34:00.002+10:00

I am tired of being branded a "bad feminist" just because I criticize Julia Gillard. And I am equally tired of hearing the media talk about Gillard being knocked down from the top job just “because” she was a woman. This assertion is speculative nonsense, particularly when you consider all of the factors that led to Gillard taking over as P.M, her time in office, and her unfortunate exit from politics.

There is no denying that Gillard’s decision to take over as Prime Minister came with a price tag attached. Rudd’s sacking did not sit well with the Australian people, many of whom held Gillard responsible for knifing a fellow colleague in the back; a stereotypically ‘unaustralian’ thing to do.

And irrespective of the faceless men who had orchestrated this Machiavellian plot twist, it was Gillard who made the conscious decision to take the Prime Ministership away from Rudd, which no doubt upset and confused many Australians who viewed the change in leadership as an opportunity for Gillard to advance her own career at the cost of Rudd’s misfortune. And because of the way she came to power, as opposed to the fact that she was a woman, Gillard was quickly cast as the villain in many people’s minds.

On top of the public perception of Gillard, the Labor party was also dealing with its own systemic problems. This required Gillard to step up and take leadership of an unstable & dysfunctional party, whose policies were constantly overshadowed by slander and in house bickering. Leading a minority government as the result of a hung parliament was just another hurdle Gillard was forced to overcome.

But rather than address these issues head on, and speak openly and honestly to the Australian public, particularly about the reason behind this leadership change, Gillard chose to ignore the enormous elephant in the room; to act as though everything was peachy keen, and she did this by adopting her own style of ‘political speak’ and an evasive demeanor. Regardless of whether or not Gillard was being advised to deflect the details of her leadership, her evasiveness made her seem cold, phony and robotic, particularly in contrast to the warm, charismatic and immensely popular Kevin '07' Rudd.

And despite the positive policy reforms of Gonski, the NBA, the NDIS and the Carbon Tax - all commendable achievements particularly given the timeframe and the circumstances - Gillard was never able to win the public over.

Her passionate speech about sexism and misogyny seemed misplaced and hypocritical in the face of Labor's tough single parent reforms, and shortly before the implementation of the NDIS, it was Gillard’s Government who had tightened the criteria for the disability support pension, while concurrently booting many disabled pensioners off the DSP and onto Newstart, at a personal loss of $300 a fortnight.

Locking children away in offshore detention camps had the left screaming blue murder under a Howard led government, and yet under Gillard, Labor was responsible for some of the worst atrocities perpetuated against asylum seekers that this country had ever seen.

People say that Gillard failed in her role as a policy communicator but it’s more likely that she failed to communicate what her government really stood for, where it was going and exactly how it was going to get us there.

Overtime, the contrast between Liberal and Labor party values had become so marginal one could barely tell them apart. Granted, there were differences in the terms of specific liberal and labor party policy, but when you consider Gillard's stance on marriage equality, asylum seeker policy, & single parent reforms, there is no disputing that Labor were angling towards the conservative right, and further away from old Labor, working class values. This shift undoubtedly confused many Labor voters.

Because on one hand the public was being introduced to Julia Gillard the Prime Minister as someone who stood defiant against marriage equality and whose policies on asylum seekers and sole parents (predominantly women) were some of the toughest in Labor’s history. On the other hand, the public was expected to reconcile that Julia Gillard with Julia the atheist, who lived in a de-facto relationship with her partner Tim, and who, for all intents and purposes, had spent her career fighting for education reforms and championing traditional, working class, Labor values.

These discrepancies made it very difficult for the public to get a true sense of what this PM stood for, and that in turn created a sense of distrust and unease within the wider community.

And granted it should be about policies rather than personalities, but there is no denying that people tend to engage better with a leader who is authentic and charismatic (think Bob Hawke, Kevin Rudd and Bill Clinton), confident, comfortable and emotive, because those qualities are strongly aligned with trust. With Abbott we might not like the Christian, moral message that drives many of his opinions, but at least we know exactly what he stands for, and in turn, exactly where we stand.

What struck me most about Gillard was that nothing struck me at all. Apart from education and the environment, I could never quite nail down what really made this PM tick, what she stood for and what she believed in. And while that may have been an unfortunate symptom of the unique circumstances, it made the public feel uncertain and uneasy. Despite populist sentiment, Gillard’s greatest disadvantage was not that she was a female, but rather, that she wasn’t able to drop the mask and let us peer behind the veil; that she wasn’t very good at being herself.

That said, there is no denying that Gillard’s gender was used as fodder for those sexist radio shock jocks and elements of the mainstream media who felt threatened by a strong, intelligent and powerful woman. Likewise, we cannot ignore the fact that life was made harder by the opposition simply because Gillard was a woman. But that’s hardly surprising when you consider the ilk of coalition members, many of whom are driven by their Christian beliefs on issues such as gender, abortion; climate change and marriage equality.

However, these are precisely the reasons why so many Australians were begging for a viable political alternative, and why many voters turned to The Greens to find what they were not being offered by the Labor party.

Had Labor readdressed its direction, repositioned its brand then perhaps Gillard would not have found herself in this position. Because while it’s very easy to use Gillard’s gender to explain her demise, I don't think we can underestimate the other mitigating factors, including that fact that in a two-party preferred system, Australians wanted to be given a choice on the issues that affected them the most, and Labor were not offering up that alternative.

It has been said by elements of the media that Gillard’s experiences as the first female PM are indicative of the course for potential female leaders and as such, Gillard is a red flag example for women to stay away from politics.

In my opinion, this suggestion is preposterous, not only because it ignores the unique circumstances of the hung Parliament, dysfunctions in the Labor party, and the way in which Gillard came to office at the expense of Kevin Rudd, but also because it makes the assumption that Gillard was overthrown solely because she was a woman, and not because of any other reason, which is madness when you consider that Rudd was also overthrown in the best interests of the party, albeit for different reasons.

I don’t think it’s fair to say that Australia wasn’t ready for a female Prime Minister when we have no way of separating all of the other unique and complex issues, including Gillard’s style of leadership, from the issue of gender. We have never had another female PM and given the unusual circumstances, it’s hardly fair to attribute one woman’s experience to all hypothetical women in the future.

It is possible that Australia wasn’t ready for a Prime Minister who was elected by the party rather than people, and one who arrived there at the very public expense of another. It is possible that this country wasn’t very comfortable with the way that was handled. It is also possible that another woman, a more progressive woman, a woman who stood up for the working class and championed Labor values might have arrived at a different outcome. Unfortunately we will never know, but what we do know, is that next time all the variables will be different.

Nonetheless, it was very difficult to criticize the Prime Minister without being drawn into the gender debate; even saying that makes me sound like a bad feminist. I don't know about anyone else, but Gillard didn't get my vote because she was a woman, and nor did her gender cause me to lose faith and withdraw my support. In actual fact, it was Labor who lost my support because their values were at odds with my own personal values, and because they were virtually indistinguishable from Liberal party values .As leader of the Labor party, Gillard failed to capture my confidence or my imagination on the important issues, not just for me, but also for Indigenous Australians, asylum seekers, sole parents and the long-term unemployed.

It's absurd to think that I would give Gillard my unwavering support just because she and I are both women. That kind of thinking is a form of reverse discrimination and it contributes to the kind of gender biased discourse that we are supposedly trying to stamp out.

Gillard is a woman and she was Australia's first female Prime Minister, those two things are indisputable. But they do not make her actions exempt from scrutiny or criticism, and nor should her gender be magnified to the point where we are no longer able to see the other contributing factors. It doesn’t work both ways, and if we want to change anything for women in this country, then it should be about establishing an even playing field and not just when it suits.

The art of forgiveness

2013-05-12T23:48:00.000+10:00

Forgiveness is a relative term because it is dependant on many things. Some people find it easy to forgive, as though the act of forgiveness requires nothing of them at all, and others, mmm...not so much.

We are all human and therefore we all make mistakes, and while it stands to reason that we are all equally deserving of forgiveness for the things we have done wrong, some folks are simply not willing or able to forgive. Some people, they say, are not worthy of forgiveness. Somethings, they say, are simply unforgivable.

The act of forgiveness often depends on the type of action one is being asked to forgive.

We each have our own benchmark, our own moral and ethical standards for what we will and won't tolerate or accept. And while certain actions may cross metaphoric lines for some, the very same actions may well be deemed excusable, or at least forgivable, by others. It all depends on who is doing the forgiving.

Forgiveness is also dependant on the person we are being asked to forgive; whether they are a family member or a friend, an acquaintance or a stranger, and whether or not they have apologised sincerely enough for what they have done. Whether or not we accept their apology often depends on whether or not we believe it to be meaningful.

Often times an apology means nothing to the person who has been wronged when it is devoid of any emotion, remorse or regret for what has taken place. Likewise, when the person making the apology is still arguing their point, we are less inclined to forgive them. Without any real sense of recognition for the pain we have caused, we cannot truly expect to be forgiven. One must take ownership and be accountable for the experience. A learning must take place.

But irrespective of who is at fault and what or whom we are being called upon to forgive, forgiveness is something that comes from the heart, an act of love that arises naturally once the dust has settled in our minds and the angry thoughts no longer sustain us.

For me personally, being in a state of un-forgiveness is very self –destructive. It keeps me locked into a negative thought pattern of blame and denial, and that’s not how I choose to expend my time and energy.

But forgiveness isn’t something that always came naturally to me. Being open to forgive is something I have taught myself to do, something I have learnt along the way, and I know I am better for it.

For me, it is all a matter of perspective. If I can put myself in the other person's shoes and understand why they have behaved in a certain way, then I am more open to forgive them. If they are genuinely remorseful, and I truly believe that they will not intentionally behave that way again, then I am very quick to let things go. I am no longer invested in being right. Being right can also be very lonely.

Choosing not to forgive is a choice and one that is often tied up with feeling wronged and betrayed. Often our ego is steering the narrative, as opposed to our hearts. The ego is also heavily invested in being right. If you have hurt someone and they are refusing to forgive you, then give them some time. Time will often quiet the ego, and while the person won't necessarily forget what you have done, they may be more open to listen to their heart and to find a way to forgive.

Often times being unforgiving can also be used as a form of punishment used to hurt and punish the person who has caused us pain. Again, this is very self-destructive as it forces us to carry the burden of anger and hurt, rather than letting it go.

All experiences hold the potential to teach us something about who we are. Even the most painful experiences can hold lessons and often the greatest lessons are born out of pain. If you are struggling with the act of forgiveness, try to think about what you have gained from the painful experience; what it has taught you about how you respond and perhaps how you could respond differently.

Children are masters at the art of forgiveness. Have you ever met a child who held a grudge? Kids don’t invest in feeling right or wronged, and they don’t choose to remain hurt and wounded. They say sorry, make peace and let things go almost immediately. Adults could stand to learn a thing or two about forgiveness from young children.

Why we still need feminism

2013-04-13T01:57:00.000+10:00

Much of what I've read and heard about feminism recently has failed to actually define feminism in this postmodern culture. The majority of outspoken feminists right now are really good at articulating what feminism is not, but they rarely bother to give examples of what feminism looks like today.

Though I've heard a lot of catchphrases used to describe issues plaguing women; terms like 'slut shaming', 'rape culture', and of course, good ol' 'misogyny', most opinion pieces seem more interested in slagging off Alan Jones and his ageing contemporaries than they do in actually tackling any real issues.

And what's really missing from any contemporary feminist debate, is a clear definition of what modern feminism looks like, how it best functions in today's society, and what it is actually trying to achieve. Because I'll be honest with you, I am buggered if I can figure it out.

The world has changed entirely since the 70's and early 80's when second wave feminists were fighting for equal rights and liberating women from the tyranny of domesticity. The problems facing women today are also very different, and in some corners of society, life for women is actually much worse.

Granted we don't face the same hardships as women living in third world conditions, or under oppressive regimes, and these are very serious issues for feminism to address. But we don't need to look further than our own back yard to observe soaring rates of domestic abuse, sexual harassment, sexual assault and poverty.

And when we look more deeply at areas such as the division of labor in the home, equal rights and equal pay, slut shaming, single mother stigma, advertising and gender discrimination, it becomes apparent that we haven't moved very far on the road toward equality, despite the fact that everyone is acting as if these issues have all been resolved.

And don't get me started on women reaching higher than men on the economic ladder, because sadly we have barely even made a crack in that glass ceiling.

Granted we do have a female Prime Minister, and one who openly calls out misogyny, but when it comes to women's earning power, the porn industry is the only industry in which women are paid more than their male contemporaries. I'm guessing that's why they call it the money shot.

Evidently the feminist cause still has a long way to go. The problem is, the path ahead is no longer clear, or at least not as clear as it should be.

One of the biggest problems facing contemporary feminism I think, is the internal conflict that has developed between the second- wave of feminism known as the women's liberation movement of the 1960's, and the third- wave, which emerged in the 1990's.

Much like the fate of psychoanalysis, which split off into the Freudian/ Lacan camps, the split in feminist ideology has slowly been confusing everyone without a doctorate in gender studies, and quickly driving young women away from the cause.

The women's lib movement fought hard for the changes that benefit women today, things like legal, political, economic and social reform; equal pay and equal career opportunity, education, women's right to autonomy over her reproductive rights, and to choose between career and motherhood as well as her right to do both.

These changes were born out of big picture thinking; a vision of not only equality for women, but for a new paradigm in which women could reach high enough to smash through the ceiling and knock down the existing patriarchal structures on the way. The dream was that women would use their power for good instead of evil, presumably to build a more sustainable society.

Then in the 1990's, third- wave feminism emerged as a more inclusive umbrella, and has since been incorporating elements of queer theory, cyber-feminism, postmodernism, eco- feminism, anti-racism and women of colour consciousness, and individualist feminism.

Third- wave feminism embraced change and diversity but it also sought to challenge traditional feminist ideas, such as the existing idea that all women in pornography and sex work are being exploited.

The third-wave movement has often distanced itself from what could be classed as the perceived failure of second- wave feminism; a movement that has been criticized for taking only white, middle class perspectives into account, and for no longer being relevant in a contemporary capitalist culture.

However, third-wave feminists are the first generation of women to benefit from the gains of the women's right movement without participating in any of those struggles. They see the presence of feminism as being assumed or innate; an intrinsic part of daily life as opposed to a separate cause or a movement.

As well as the debate between second and third wave feminism, third-wave feminism also contains internal debates between difference feminists who believe 'that there are important differences between the sexes, and those who believe that there are no inherent differences between the sexes, and contend that gender roles are due to social conditioning'.

These ongoing debates and their inherently blurred ideologies could be blamed for some of the apathy and confusion felt by young women today, who are often confused about what contemporary feminism looks like.

Most young women take issues like equality and women's rights for granted, as though they were part of their DNA. However, young women are often less inclined to get caught up in the politics of feminist ideology, presumably because there is no longer a clear distinction of what that ideology represents.

And even though a young woman may identify as a feminist, she may still be reluctant to assume the feminist label because of the label's overwhelmingly loaded and often impossibly contradictory connotations.

The Oxford dictionary defines feminism as 'the advocacy of women's rights on the grounds of political, social and economic equality to men'. However, today's definition is much more complex than that.

In the introduction of To Be Real, the Third Wave founder and leader Rebecca Walker writes:

Whether the young women who refuse the feminist label realize it or not, on some level they recognize that an ideal woman born of prevalent notions of how empowered women look, act, or think is simply another impossible contrivance of perfect womanhood, another scripted role to perform in the name of biology and virtue.^[9]

On social media sites such as Facebook and Twitter, in Blogs, and on QandA last Monday night, young women are struggling to clarify the blurry feminist definition.

Can you still like men and be a feminist?

Can you shave your armpits and still be a feminist?

Is it okay to like shopping and spending money and still be a feminist?

Is it okay to dress provocatively and still be a feminist?

Women of the younger generation have grown up in a capitalist western society, one where consumerism, social media, advertising, fashion, sex, plastic surgery, Internet porn, and body image have been prepackaged and sold to them as social norms.

In an age where girls as young as five are reportedly experiencing body dysmorphia and girls as young as 7 are already on diets, there is no question that the odds are stacked against young girls in many ways. And regardless of where you stand on the debate about female autonomy, one cannot deny that young girls are being influenced, shaped and exploited by the capitalist machine.

In my opinion it is the responsibility of feminist writers of all ages and viewpoints to adapt to the world at large and address these issues so that feminism can become more, and not less, relevant. The traditional feminist model needs to lift itself out of the dark ages and make itself more compatible with today's young female generation.

This can only begin by igniting a discussion with young girls and women. Only by listening to their experiences; their hopes and fears, opinions and reservations, can we truly hope to forge ahead as a strong, united front.

The nature of oppression no longer wears the same face. While the problems besieging women in western cultures are no less sexist or oppressive than they were thirty of forty years ago, the rules of the game are far less obvious and we need to agree on what these rules are before we can hope to change the playing field.

Perhaps the biggest downfall of the feminist movement was not that it could not predict the kind of world we would be living in today, but that it could not agree with the best way to keep up with those changes.

I'm not suggesting that women ought to have circumvented capitalism, though if we had have been running the show, it's possible that the culture would be less fucked. But what I am saying is that women are still being oppressed in the western culture, just much more subtly than they ever have been before.

It's true that one cannot see female oppression as blatantly in the west, as one might see oppression on a daily basis in places like Afghanistan, The Sudan or India. Women living in western cultures appear to have much more autonomy than women living under an oppressive male dominated regime or religion. But just because we can no longer see the machinations of western oppression, doesn't mean oppression no longer exists.

Oppression does exist and it has spread through the west like a terminal disease. It is on our streets and in our living rooms, on our billboards, in our institutions; workplaces and schools. It is in our social groups, our film industry, our news and social media. It is in football codes, our churches, our fashion industry, our sex industry and in our government. It is shaping and defining the lives of not only our young girls, but our young men as well, particularly during their formative years, when their attitudes toward girls and women develop.

Capitalist oppression is slippery by nature because it is hides behind the shiny advertising campaigns of multi-billion dollar industries. It manipulates women into thinking that they are empowering themselves by adhering to social norms.

Buying the right clothes and achieving a more desirable weight, hair style, breast shape, lip size and so on might make women feel better about themselves for a whole minute, but these are all social constructions, devoid of any real substance or meaning, and designed to lull women into a false sense of security, one where she feels a sense of desirability, freedom and control.

Capitalism manufactures deficits that did not previously exist and then sells women pre- packaged solutions to these problems as though they were simply ordering lean cuisine. And as a result, it is much more difficult for women to pinpoint the ways in which they are being subjugated, many women don't even realise it at all.

On one hand, women might argue that dieting, waxing, and even going under the knife make them feel better about themselves; more confident and empowered. On the other hand one might argue that women are being manipulated into feeling badly about their bodies so that big corporations can sell them ready made solutions, and there is absolutely no freedom of empowerment in that.

The culture has changed dramatically for women since the women's lib movement emerged. Twenty years ago, collagen implants and botoxed lips were reserved for women in the porn industry, and older women in Hollywood. These days, women as young as 18 are going under the knife for unnecessary breast and vaginal surgeries.

Young women are being pressured to conform to the unrealistic standards reinforced by the advertising and porn industries, industries predominately owned and run by men, selling an image that has been cultivated by men to be aesthetically pleasing to men.

In so many ways feminism has failed to address not only the changing cultural landscape for women, but also where it stands in relation to those changes. Modern feminism has voiced an opinion on the oppression of Muslim women; women who are pressured to wear the hijab or burqa under patriarchal rule, but when it comes to the more subtle ways in which western women are pressured to adhere to unnatural standards of beauty, very little is said.

Regardless of whether you think feminism means calling out misogyny on 3AW or fighting for women's rights in the third world, the feminist cause risks looking foolish and redundant unless it starts to address the issues affecting women today. We might start by encouraging feminists to stop bickering amongst themselves and criticising one another for small-picture thinking, and the other ways in which they are failing to get it right.

Many feminist writers are more inclined to write opinion pieces that criticise aspects of modern day feminism. The problem with this, is that younger women, and women like myself, feel uncertain about voicing their own opinions because we are not entirely sure where exactly we are supposed to be standing.

I know I won't win any admirers for saying this, but it is often feminists who tend to undermine other feminists, and women who tend to undermine other women. For example, a large majority of the criticism aimed at the way women dress, tends to come from other women. Of course men are guilty of sexual harassment, but when it comes to the practice of slut shaming, so too are women.

If a woman dresses provocatively, other women often assume she is trying to attract the attention of men and they might also assume that this is goes against what feminism has been fighting for, and that is in part, that women should be independent and not reliant on the approval of men.

And yet in contrast, third-wave feminists might argue that wearing a short skirt is a woman's choice; her right to autonomy regarding her own body, and she should be free to wear whatever she likes. Both arguments can be seen to support a feminist viewpoint, and yet they are entirely in conflict with one another. There is any wonder that young women feel confused.

In terms of consumerism, women are free to shop till they drop, to spend their hard earned dollars on themselves, just as men are. After all, feminism fought hard for equal property rights; for women to earn and manage their own money.

On the other hand, marketing companies are still largely run and owned by men, and it is predominantly men who are researching the ways in which women consume. If women are being manipulated into buying products they do not need, products that are gender coded, and products that repress women further into outdated gender roles, then arguably that isn't compatible with feminism.

The role of this capitalist culture clearly has the power to shape young women in damaging ways. Working in the area of mental illness, I take this issue very seriously because I've seen the impact this broken capitalist culture is having on all of our society.

These are conversations that we need to start having, if not yesterday, then today because this culture is churning out more aggressive and sexually violent men than it has ever done before.

It's clear that we need to start finding ways to tackle the more immediate issues facing women today, issues such as the rape culture, domestic violence, and sexualised harassment and abuse. It's also true that these issues are far more important than whether Black Caviar was voted Sportswoman of the year, or Kyle Sandilands has made another tasteless, sexist joke.

But I don't agree with the argument put forward by Helen Razer, that calling out sexism, either in the form of a joke, or women being compared to horses, is nothing more than 'short-lived feminist fury', which serves as a distraction from the real issues at hand.

There is no reason why we cannot talk about all of the issues - both big and small and give each issue equal attention. One issue or approach does not cancel out the other. And in my opinion, there is no such thing as small scale sexism or low-level discrimination. Oppression is born out of an attitude; a product of faulty thinking, and even the most seemingly insignificant examples of misogyny contribute to the collective way of thinking; the systemic subjugation of women.

We don't need to prioritise these issues according to a hierarchical scale, whereby John Laws and Kyle Sandilands are on the bottom, equal pay and equal employment opportunities are in the middle, and rape culture, domestic abuse and are at the top.

We should be paying attention to all of the issues that impact women's lives, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Because by ignoring them, or playing them down, we are inadvertently normalising and okaying them in society.

I am a huge fan of Helen Razer, but in the time it took her to write her last two articles, in which she criticises feminism for its small-target strategy, she could have used a big-target strategy to write two serious feminist articles.

I'm not blaming Helen Razer for setting back the women's movement, I'd be way too scared to do that. But seriously, if a woman as ballsy and articulate as Razer is not prepared to get real about the suffering of women, then why should she get ticked off when other women don't do the same.

It's one thing to have a vision of women climbing the corporate ladder and filling positions on boards, in government and the church, but while the staff photograph hanging in the lobby may look slightly more effeminate than it did 30 years ago, the model hasn't actually changed, and it won't change for as long as we continue to act like it already has.

We need feminism because even in 2013, women are still not given equal pay or equal workplace opportunity. We need feminism because many people think that the oppression of women ended decades ago. We need feminism because one woman is raped every minute. We need feminism because young women shouldn't desire to be anorexic in order to be desirable. We need feminism because some men think its okay to objectify young girls. We need feminism because every woman will be sexually harassed at least once in her lifetime. We need feminism because many people still associate feminism with pessimism and negativity. Unfortunately, we are all too busy hanging shit on one another to notice.

That black dog

2013-03-07T01:00:00.002+11:00

As far as I know, I have been living with depression for about 12 months. It may have started earlier than that, but after losing my partner to a heroin overdose five years ago, it's been hard to know where the grief ended and where the depression began.

Lately I have realised that although there are many similarities between grief and depression, the two are markedly different.

About a year after my partner died, and the initial shock had worn off, I was motivated to make the most of my life, to make it count for something.

Even though I was still incredibly heartbroken and lost, I enrolled in university and held down two jobs, and even though I began to suffer from social anxiety or what one doctor diagnosed as 'agoraphobia', I was still able to get myself out of bed each day and excel in my studies, in my writing, my job and at home in my role as a mother.

However, all of those things quickly came undone when that black dog crept in. I lost all interest in my writing, my studies, and my lifelong passion to work as a psychologist.

My faith in myself had been eroded, and suddenly, everything seemed like a massive waste of time and energy, like I could no longer see the point to anything at all.

The only thing I wanted to do each day was to stay warm and safe under the covers and in actual fact, 'sleeping' felt like the only thing I could still do well.

I've slept more in the last 12 months than I think I have done in my entire life... and yet I am never truly rested, in fact I am always exhausted.

Welcome to the world of depression...!

It may be a mental illness but from everything I've read and experienced, it affects you mentally, emotionally and physically as well.

Perhaps the best way to describe depression is like a toxic poison slowly eating away at your soul. Everything about me feels infected; my moods, my thoughts, my sleep, my hopes, feelings and motivations, even my libido. I recently started a new relationship, but it began just before I realised that I was suffering with depression.

Shortly prior to meeting him, I had noticed some depressive symptoms, but I just thought I was going through a rough patch, a fork in the road so to speak. But none of my problems disappeared over night after meeting him - quite the contrary.

I became overly anxious and stressed out about uni, and where I could once manage 5 subjects at a time, my faith in my own ability had vanished and suddenly one pending exam or assignment would make me break out in the most intense panic that in the end I had to throw in the towel.

My depression only got worse as my relationship developed. Here was this great guy; sweet, genuine, kind and loving, and yet I wasn't able to enjoy his company or revel in the honeymoon period when everything about that person makes you feel alive, electric and magical.

Even the thought of going out for dinner with him would make me break out in a cold sweat, I was so panicked at the thought of any kind of intimacy with another human being.

I started sleeping all day and at night I stayed awake thinking. I stopped looking for another job or planning to go back to uni and my friendships began to suffer. I lost my confidence in everything, lost faith in my ability to be a functioning human being and to put it bluntly, I lost my way through life.

I don't know how he put up with me for as long as he did to be honest.

It wasn't easy on either of us and I required much more patience, support and understanding than was really plausible from an on again / off again six month relationship. I needed someone to take care of me for a change, someone to see that I was falling through the cracks, but he had only just met me.

I can't blame him for feeling unsure and confused, for doubting that I even wanted to be with him. Even I confused myself. I couldn't give him the love and affection he deserved and I struggled to accept it in return, and before long, cancelling dates and making excuses became more common than spending time together.

Deep down I really wanted to be with him, but I wasn't capable of much more than holding hands or a platonic cuddle and anything more felt like I was being pushed alone onto a stage in front of 100,000 people, naked.

That was the hardest part for me, wanting something with all my heart and knowing it felt right, but not being able to express that in person, not being able to give or receive the love I knew we both felt in our hearts.

I lost count of the times he needed me to assure him that I truly cared, and I lost count of the times that I felt like he wasn't there for me.

In the end we were fighting all the time because I wasn't feeling heard or supported and he wasn't feeling loved. It really was as simple as that but it became so damn complicated that we almost drove one another mad.

There is this general misconception about depression that the person can control their moods and actions and that for some reason, for another outside reason, they are choosing not to do so.

But the truth is they have no control over any of it. No more control than a cancer patient has over having cancer. Depression is a mental illness and one that feels like you have been invaded by another foreign being, one that is already slowly dying, like a zombie that has taken residence in your soul.

You may have all the greatest intentions, things you are going to do and change, but come the next day, when you wake to find your soul is still trapped in the darkness, you just cannot forge your way through the thick, black fog. At least not on your own.

What you want and what you are capable of doing are two entirely different things and I wish I could have found the right words to try and explain that to the man I loved. Because I really wanted to love him, to be a good partner, to give him my heart, and yet what I ended up doing was the opposite in his eyes.

But in my head and in my heart, I was always one step away from being able to get there, from reaching out to him, one step away from staying open, only that moment never arrived and for a long time I just kept hanging on and hoping...

I also thought I could just lay low for a while, gather my thoughts and rekindle my confidence and go back to uni. But three weeks in and I haven't even opened the damn folder.

And this is where the guilt sets in, and guilt is the thing that steals your sleep and makes you angry; angry at yourself for being so utterly useless, for not being able to do what people are counting on you to do.

And that is why you want to hide from everyone, because in their company you feel like a massive disappointment, and in turn that leads to a sense of isolation and hopelessness that nothing will ever get better. That is why depression is such a solitary illness. The pressure you end up placing on yourself to be 'normal' is enormous.

And in those brief moments when people catch you off guard, or turn up at your doorstep unannounced, you summon every ounce of energy you have left, and put on a stoic, brave face, a happy smile, pretend they just caught you having a well-deserved nap, and for the most part, they get fooled into thinking that you are doing ok.

But it quickly becomes a pretty bleak existence, a lonely life, especially when you don't have anyone to encourage you not to believe those thoughts in your head, nobody to even realise that you are falling.

More than anyone in the world, I miss my friend Nira right now. She would tell me not to believe my thoughts, and that tomorrow the sun will rise again.

She would force me to examine the root of my thinking, to investigate the cause. Because that's what depression really is - a disease of the mind, a short circuit in the thinking process. I need to channel my friend Nira right now and pick myself up off the floor and carry myself into a doctor's office to get the help I know I need.

We all need help with depression, nobody can walk through it alone. It may not be much, but that's the one thing I know for certain. I'm just hoping it's enough.

He will come back to you; they always do.

2013-03-02T11:14:00.000+11:00

When you are pregnant with your first child, all you think about is having the baby. It's 'the baby' this and 'the baby' that, and you don't realise, that pretty soon those triple zero singlets will look ridiculously small, and you will be taking commands from a giant toddler. Likewise, when your baby does become a toddler, you don't fast forward to the infant stage; to the supermarket tantrums or the miraculously heart-felt, yet completely indecipherable chatter... at least not until that stage actually arrives, and then you don't pay much attention to any other stage beyond that.

Each phase of childhood and parenthood has its own unique set of joys and challenges, but we get so consumed by the business of day-to-day living, that we don't stop to imagine, let alone prepare ourselves, for what is coming next. This is all fine and well when the next stage will inevitably involve more of the same highlights and challenges, but when those tiny monsters turn into big monsters and stomp into adolescence, there should be some sort of ticking alarm clock to let you know that the countdown has begun; some inbuilt warning system to prepare you for the almighty fact that pretty soon they will be leaving.

Unless you have been living under a pile of rocks on the moon, you know that the day will eventually arrive, when your baby will reach the threshold of adulthood and journey on across that bridge without you. Even if they don't leave home, they may as well have been kidnapped and reprogrammed by aliens, because in every other possible way, they vanish. But as parents, we aren't even slightly prepared for the biggest change of them all. And no matter how close you tread to that moment, it still manages to creep up behind you, to catch you completely off guard, as though you had been sitting around watching a slow-motion, home-movie that has been sped up near the end, so fast you barely had time to comprehend it.

Maybe this is because we are so entrenched in the challenging task of raising angst ridden, monosyllabic adolescents, that we are too exhausted and beat down to even contemplate another tomorrow. However, I also suspect that it is a protection mechanism, some unconscious denial / avoidance technique, hardwired into all parents to spare us any extra, unnecessary trauma.

Because after 18 years of handing out cuddles and kisses, solving problems and setting boundaries, planning and making meals, being the disciplinarian, the taxi driver and the nurse, helping with homework, stocking the pantry, setting the table, doing the laundry, the dishes, the budget and picking up dirty socks, we aren't able to anticipate a time when we will cease to be really needed, when our role as the hands on caregiver will slowly but surely be dismantled. And perhaps more than anything, we aren't able to anticipate a time when our babies will no longer be around.

Some parents actually look forward to the day when their children finally leave home. I dreaded the moment like it was a cancer diagnosis and I still haven't got used to it some 12 months later. It isn't an easy thing to get used to, not having him around.

After all, I was there when he took his first sweet breath of life, when his tiny alien fingers curled up and found their home in mine. I was there when he crawled backwards first and then forwards, and when he stood upright for the first time with so much pride and excitement in his own accomplishment that his little face turned beetroot red and he actually laughed so hard he cried. I was there when he took his first five steps and stumbled excitedly toward me - looking back at his father after each wobbly step for that extra boost of reassurance.

I remember his first word - mama, his first sentence - what time is it?, and how he used to ask me how concrete was made. I remember our late night quirky chats about the food chain and the universe and evolution, when he first learnt to ride a skateboard and a bike, and how the task of leaving him on his first day at Kindergarten felt like the universe was ripping out my heart. I remember sitting on a tram with him when he suddenly learnt to read, and that first day of primary school, standing at the gate with all the other teary parents, when his pudgy little fingers uncurled to let go of mine.

By high school there was no sign of hand holding, no tears, and he was already big enough to go it alone on the bus, but I still remember him standing nervously in his crisp, new uniform - already half boy, half man, still quietly needing my support and reassurance. All of those moments and so many more are etched forever in my memory, each one marked by it's own unique significance, and each one filling me with so much pride I could cry.

And yet there wasn't a set moment or a special day when he stopped being a little boy, no marked occasion to commemorate the milestone of becoming a man, and yet somehow it happened anyway. And I wasn't prepared for how hard it would hit me, for the emptiness I would feel, and for the private grief that would wash over me when he left, like softly falling rain. Everything that came before was leading into this moment, and yet for some reason I didn't have time to prepare myself, no way to get ready for that deep impossible void that comes from letting go.

It's only been during these last few months that I have stumbled upon the profound realisation that like everything, this is just another transformation, another stage, a metamorphosis of the most surprising kind. My son may not need me in the same way that he did when he was a baby or even an adolescent, but that is because I have done my job and raised a competent young man.

He is an adult now, an inspiring, respectful, humble, gentle young man who stands on his own too feet and makes his own decisions, a good man who makes time for his family and friends. He no longer grunts at me or expects me to do everything for him, and we talk about things the way adults talk about things, with mutual respect, appreciation and understanding.  There is no more fighting, yelling, snarling or petty arguing and we actually look forward to seeing one another, to share each others company.

It's taken a while, but my baby has come back to me - just as my friends and family told me that he would. So much change takes place between the ages of 14 and 18, but you really do need to have faith and patience, to trust that they will certainly leave you in the physical, emotional and mental sense, but that they will always come back. Maybe not back into the home, or into the role to which you had become accustomed, but back into your life and your heart, in an even more meaningful way.

There is no doubt my son has grown and matured over the last few months, but I am different now around him too; more accepting and less controlling, more respectful, calm and appreciative. I value the time we spend together because we don't see one another every day and I look forward with great anticipation to the time that we do share. Watching your first born child shape shift into an adult is an incredibly profound experience. But watching them come back to you when you are certain they have gone, well that is the most profound experience of them all.

In 3 weeks my baby is heading overseas for 6 months and it will be the longest time I have ever spent without him. But I don't feel sad, or empty, not anymore. Even though he is leaving, I am able to trust now that he will come back to me, and to understand that even though our relationship is different now, I am still his mother and he is still my baby boy, and he will always need me. His overseas journey is yet another milestone to celebrate, another memory to cherish, and although he no longer needs me to hold his hand, he still needs my quiet support and reassurance, and I will be right there watching when he takes those first few steps, just as I have always been, with so much pride I could cry.

Five years.

2012-12-07T14:21:00.000+11:00

Today marks the fifth anniversary of your death.

I try to make sense of the passing of time and the way in which everything has unfolded without you.

But I do not understand why you aren't here today - even five years later.

So much of who I am remains tied up in your memory.

Like a ship wreck lying dormant at the bottom of the sea, I still hold all of your secrets.

They are buried deep inside of me and no matter how many years pass by, I will carry them forever.

I will carry you forever.

You were and you will always be, my one true love.

The single parent trap

2012-12-04T15:52:00.002+11:00

Dear Julia Gillard,

I am one of the many single parents who will be forced onto Newstart Allowance on January 1, 2013.

I am the sole parent of two children, 17 and 10, and I am currently in my fourth year of a psychology degree, something I have worked extremely hard to achieve whilst raising two children on my own. However, given that I will soon be forced to live on $533 a fortnight, (which is less than the cost of my rent) I must accept that I will not be able to complete the final year of my degree and that I must instead go out and try to find a job, any job, for which I am overqualified, that will enable us all to survive.

As well as losing $122 a week of my parenting payment, I will also lose the $64 a fortnight education supplement that is supposed to help with the costs of text books. That $64 might seem irrelevant to someone like you, and granted it isn't much of an incentive to enrol at university, but it has enabled me to buy the ridiculously overpriced text- books that are not included in the ridiculously overpriced school fees.

I'm not sure if you have given any real thought as to what these new cost saving measures will mean to women like me, and if you have then you should be ashamed of yourself as a Prime Minister and as a woman.

I live in a rural area where there are very few jobs available and even less that will employ staff solely during school hours. Even if I could afford it, there is no after school care at my daughter's school and the bus does not take her all the way home, which means that I must meet her at the bus stop in the middle of a busy highway at 3.25 pm.

She is 10 years old and not old enough to walk the 25 minute walk along a bustling, two-lane highway. It's bad enough that I will be forced to give up my studies in order to house and feed my children, but in areas where unemployment and rents are high, women like me will have no choice but to live on the Newstart Allowance and to go without basic necessities.

In my case, I will need to move into more affordable housing which may prove impossible given that the cheapest three bedroom house in a 20 km radius of my children's school is $300 a week. Sharing a room with my children in a one bedroom flat or pitching a tent in the Byron Bay caravan-park may actually be the only alternative.

How is that you can justify giving single people with no dependant children the same amount of money that will be given to sole parents with 1, 2, 3, 4 children? Do you have any idea what it costs to raise a child? My children have had to go without many things that two parent families can afford and there have been many times over the course of the last 4 years where I have seriously considered dropping out of uni to take a waitressing or cleaning job in order to meet the weekly demands.

I have persevered because I want to show my children that education is important and that if you work hard you can achieve anything. Thanks to you, that decision has now been made for me and the blood, sweat and tears have all been a massive waste of time. I'll be sending you my HECS bill if that's okay.

You recently spoke in the Parliament about the tyranny of sexism and misogyny.

On Q&A last fortnight, Bill Shorten also spoke about a sexist and misogynistic Coalition and he explained how Labor are working to empower and support women in the workforce. And yet under your new legislation, women who would otherwise have had the opportunity to get an education and contribute something of value to the workforce will now be forced into low wage, low skill jobs just to survive.

Freezing women out of education opportunities because they will be forced to work full time in order to supplement Newstart Allowance is sexist and misogynistic and depriving those women of the pensioner education supplement just worsens the blow.

Mr. Shorten defended the new legislation by saying that women should be empowered to rejoin the workforce. He said that the best way we can support women is to return them to work. What he failed to acknowledge is that under the current legislation, which was introduced by John Howard, single parents are required to engage in 15 hours of paid work per week to meet their parenting payment requirements.

Those of us who are studying full time are exempt (and rightfully so) from meeting those requirements. The difference between the current legislation and Labor's proposed changes is that sole parents are able to strike a balance between work and family. They are able to achieve an education that will better enable them to return to the workforce in a meaningful way and to earn a good income that will allow them to support their families. More importantly, they are on track to break the cycle of welfare altogether.

Forcing sole parents onto Newstart will not tackle the problem of welfare dependancy, in fact it will only cause greater long term socio-economic problems. Parenting payment currently enables sole parents to earn $167 a fortnight before they lose 40 cents in the dollar. Newstart decreases that threshold to $31.50 a week. If you genuinely want ‘women’ to get back to work then why make it damn near impossible for them to do so?

You should be raising the single parenting payment to elevate single parents (predominately women) out of the poverty cycle and give more support to single parents undertaking study - not less. And you should be making exemptions for women living in rural areas where child care is scarce and work opportunities virtually non existent. If women are not able to find work under your new legislation then they will be forced into dire living situations through no fault of their own. Which leads me to my next question - where exactly are all of these new jobs coming from? Because there has certainly been no mention in the Parliament of that.

It may surprise you to learn that most women do not choose to become single parents. But no matter how hard it gets and no matter how much we might struggle, we hold our heads high and raise our children without question or complaint and with absolute love and dedication. So thank you for your passionate speech in the Parliament and for sticking it to Tony Abbott on issues like sexism and women's rights.

But just remember that it was you who took away these women's rights; women who already do it tougher than most, women who deserve the chance to raise their children without fear of homelessness and starvation, women who deserve a chance at an education, women who are raising the next generation, women who don't deserve to be punished just because they are women, and women whom your party is supposed to represent.

Do Not Feed The Trolls. I Repeat....

2012-09-19T01:15:00.000+10:00

In the modern world of interactive social media, everyday citizens now have the opportunity to interact with their favourite celebrities in a way that is personal and exciting.

Famous people who once appeared to exist only inside the television set or on the radio or movie screen, have now become thoroughly accessible through sites like Twitter and Facebook.

For genuine fans and admirers, the shift in accessibility has meant a way in which to peak inside the lives and the heads of those celebrities they adore. It has also meant a way to connect and interact with celebrities in an intimate and personal, if not strangely creepy manner.

Having access to the everyday movements, thoughts and feelings of a celebrity completely changes the old school fame dynamic.

Where as once upon a time celebrities were untouchable, existing outside in some glossy magazine spread, photoshopped from a far away island, they are now only a tweet away, living inside our Iphones, computers and tablets.

If fame works by glorifying and glamorising ordinary (albeit talented) people, then social media works by peeling away the mask of celebrity and exposing the human face that has previously remained hidden.

Social media tears down the walls that separate the ordinary from the extraordinary and as a result, the social construction of idolisation, which placed celebrities on a godlike pedestal, has now been upended.

Justin Bieber attributes his rise to fame with the product of social media.

Bieber was discovered on YouTube and he has since solidified a prosperous career out of staying connected to his original supporters and the millions of fans he has acquired along the way.

18-year old Bieber interacts with his followers via Twitter on a daily and often an hourly basis.

However, like all the celebrities who have allowed themselves to become accessible in the public domain, Justin Bieber has paid a hefty price in the form of online harassment and cyber trolling, with haters tweeting insults on a daily and often hourly basis.

Bieber has developed a thick skin when it comes to his online detractors, but it can't be easy, especially for someone so young to have to deal with so much hate.

It has always been the case that haters are going to hate. In Australia it's always been referred to as 'tall poppy syndrome' meaning that the moment someone gains fame and notoriety, the moment people want to chop them down to size.

However, in the past those haters had no other way to express their hate other than calling talkback radio or through traditional snail hate mail.

Though most celebrities have always been aware that there are people who dislike them, all hate mail was usually intercepted by a manager or staff member.

Unfortunately, in the world of social media, no such buffer is afforded and that is a significant part of the problem.

Charlotte Dawson was recently driven toward what appears to be a nervous breakdown after some troll hijacked her Twitter account and posted hateful, vile comments about her looks, her personality and her marital status.

Rugby player, Robbie Farah resorted to calling the police after he was sent a disgusting and hurtful tweet about the recent death of his mother.

Olympic Trolls have been blamed for the poor performance of our Aussie swim team in the London Olympics after the athletes struggled to shut out the hateful comments directed at them via Twitter.

Charlotte Dawson has since been criticised for retweeting the hateful messages and describing the particular troll in question as an 'attention whore'.

Evidently Dawson was attempting to defend herself and bring the issue out into the light. However, in doing so, all Dawson achieved was to attract the attention of more abusive lowlifes in the online community and finally the torrent of abuse landed her in hospital.

So how should celebrities deal with the issue of trolling?

According to online community manager, Laurel Papworth, the first rule of the Internet is 'you never give bullies oxygen and you never feed the trolls'.

In the real world, if someone insults you or harasses you, there are steps you can take to defend yourself, such as fighting back or calling the police, and in worst case scenarios, seeking a restraining order or pursuing a defamation lawsuit.

However, the most problematic part of online harassment is that the trolls remain anonymous, often setting up fake IP addresses and accounts so that they can never be caught.

The second problem is that the types of people who get their kicks from trolling are not the same type of people who might hurl abuse at you on the street or even write and post hateful letters.

Trolls gain impetus from their anonymity but they also get pleasure from the power they yield over celebrities, famous people that they would otherwise not have the opportunity to reach.

The social construction of trolling is entirely different to the social construction of interpersonal bullying and that is why when it comes to trolls, fighting back is not an option.

Any attempt to interact or to defend oneself against the harassment will only give the trolls exactly what they are after, and that is to impact the lives of the people they see on TV.

If the costs of Twitter and other forms of social media are so high that they have the potential to cause insult and injury, let alone a nervous breakdown, then surely it is up to that person to decide that having a Twitter account is not worth it.

I mean since when did having a Twitter account become so important that people are willing to be abused and offended just so that they can tweet about what they had for dinner or what they are reading on their Kindle?

And when did becoming taunted and victimised, abused and degraded become something one is willing to put up with when one has the option to end that kind of behaviour?

Granted things are different if you moderate a blog or column but when the issue of trolling is isolated to Twitter then I cannot see why it is such a dilemma.

I am not a celebrity and I have not encountered any trolls, but if I ever woke up to so much as even one hurtful message from some sad sack I have never met, then I would shut my Twitter account down faster than you can say retweet.

It simply isn't true that in taking these measures to protect one's mental health, the trolls get what they are after. What they are after is your attention and to get up under your skin. They seek pleasure in upsetting you.

Don't let them.

41 things I have learnt about grief

2012-09-12T11:25:00.000+10:00

1. Nothing prepares you for the experience of grief.

2. There is a before and an after. Everything else is punctuated by that moment.

3. Not everything happens for a reason.

4. Time does not heal all wounds.

5. You don't suddenly wake up one day to find that you have been healed.

6. You have to work damn hard for the smallest healing to occur.

7. Today you might take one step forward. Tomorrow you might take ten steps back.

8. For a long time, there will be more bad days than good days.

9. You cannot fight grief. The best thing you can do is surrender.

10. Grief is complicated, especially when death is sudden and unexpected.

11. There will be many milestones. Be patient.

12. Grief changes you forever and you must be willing to let go of who you were before.

13. You are no longer the same person and that means that you have grown.

14. Strange things are born out of grief. There are lessons in the darkest places.

15. The intensity of grief does not diminish overtime, but the episodes will become less frequent.

16. You will not always be consumed by this experience.

17. One day, you will catch yourself laughing again. Avoid the temptation to feel guilty.

18. At some point down the track (and only you will know when you get there), you will be faced with a choice. Choose to reclaim your life.

19. You are still here. Make that count for something.

20. Be creative and find ways to channel your sorrow.

21. The most beautiful works are born out of pain.

22. You will be surprised by some friends and disappointed in others.

23. A real friend will show up for you.

24. A crap friend will always be too busy to listen to you on a bad day.

25. Grief can make people feel uncomfortable. Fight the temptation to take that personally.

26. Cliches about grief are not founded in any kind of truth. They just make people feel less awkward around the grieving.

27. Cliches about grief do not make the grieving feel better. They just make them feel awkward.

28. Grief is an isolating and solitary experience. It needn't be.

29. If you know someone who is grieving, then acknowledge their experience. Mentioning the subject will not upset them. Not mentioning it will.

30. Politeness is wasted on the grieving. Grief is raw and brutal. All the bullshit just falls away.

31. You cannot upset a grieving person by raising the subject of their loss. It's not like you went ahead and reminded them about something they had temporarily forgotten.

32. When someone you love is grieving, make an effort to hold the same space with them. Avoid smalltalk and Keep it real. Even if it makes you feel uncomfortable.

33. My partner is dead. That does not make him my 'ex'. When he died he was very much my partner.

34. A relationship ending because it fell apart is not the same thing as a relationship ending because someone died. In 2 years or 10 years you might catch up for a coffee and in the meantime you have hope.

35. Saying that your partner may as well be dead because he broke up with you is not the same thing as him actually being dead. He can still laugh, cry, be happy and live his life.

36. The hardest thing about grief is the absolute absence of hope.

37. If you love someone, then tell them while they are still alive.

38. Don't say anything you might regret. Unfinished business will always remain unfinished.

39. Death is final. You cannot beg, plead, cry or bargain your way around that.

40. I'd still do anything to see him one more time. I'd even settle for a 5 second phone call.

41. It's always darkest before the dawn.

The issue of stopping the boats

2012-06-29T15:02:00.004+10:00

Yesterday, I sat patiently and listened to our politicians speak about solving the ongoing issue of people smuggling. All sides gave their personal and political opinions, and at times, the impact of this very human drama took its toll, even on the most hardened politicians.

But what struck me more than anything else in this emotional debate, was that the Liberal Mp's seemed to have been struck down by some kind of historical amnesia regarding what took place during the Howard years.

And while they were able to remember that Mr. Howard had singlehandedly stopped the boats (sic), they seemed to have forgotten the men, women and children who languished for years and years inside those horrific Australian Correctional Management (ACM) detention camps, and the kids of 14, 15 and 16 years of age who had sewn their lips together in sheer desperation after being held prisoner for years without any word about when and if their application would be processed.

Suddenly they had forgotten the children overboard scandal or the countless injustices that took place inside the camps, or the way that refugees were being vilified by both the government and the media, day after day after day.

And suddenly, these Liberal MP's standing in the Parliament and describing the successes of their predecessor, seemed to have confused the words 'compassionate and humanitarian' with a more accurate description somewhere in the realm of 'cruel', 'damaging, evil and inhumane'.

Criticising the Malaysian solution because it is inhumane is all fine and well if you have a clean humanitarian track record and you are calling for a humanitarian approach to the current crisis.

However, we all know what took place under the Howard administration and that is why we must never support a return to the Pacific Solution or any solution that places refugees outside the realm of Australian law and hides them away from the public.

What took place yesterday in the Parliament was nothing more than a knee jerk reaction to the overly publicised tragedies that took place in Australian waters and deeply embarrassed the Australian Government.

If the Gillard Government was so intent on stopping people smugglers and if they were so moved by the deaths taking place at sea, then why did they wait until two more boats had capsized before convening to find a solution? Why when it has been months since the Malaysian Solution was shot down by the High Court?

The problem with this debate is that you are never going to stop the boats with a humanitarian approach.

You either stop the boats with a hardline approach, as in the case of Howard's abhorrent Pacific solution / mandatory detention policy, or you accept that the boats will keep coming because of the simple fact that there are not enough places and desperate people will weigh up their options and risk drowning on a leaky boat if they think it will be worth it. In other words, if the ends justify the means then the boats will keep coming.

Just because people are desperate does not mean they are stupid and they will not risk the long arduous journey if they are going to be locked up upon arrival - for years on end - and then forced to live on TPV's whereby they are not permitted to work or receive entitlements in order to live and provide for their families.

That is precisely what happened under the Howard administration, whereby those who survived the terrifying and arduous boat journey were then subjected to years locked away in the camps.

Following that they were either deported back to their country of origin or placed on a TPV which meant they could not work to support themselves or their families. That is the only reason Howard stopped the boats, because he was guilty of grave human rights violations, and to pretend he did anything credible or worthy is simply despicable.

Of course both the Liberal and Labor governments know exactly why the Pacific Solution worked, and that is why both parties are fighting for their own version of a hardline offshore disincentive, masked and packaged as a humanitarian approach.

The problem with both of these suggestions is their lack of transparency. Hiding people away in either Malaysia or Naru for "processing" just gives a green light to those government authorities to carry out any number of human rights violations, away from the rule and protection of Australian law.

I will never forget what happened in this country under the Howard administration because I lived through it - we all did. Neither Labor nor the coalition have any qualms about moving refugees offshore and away from the public eye so that this issue can be silenced.

They want this problem to go away and they will not be held accountable for what happens to those refugees once they leave Australian waters. We must not allow that to happen.

The only real way forward now is to stop the demand for people smugglers by allocating more humanitarian places than the current 7000. Australia has the capacity to process all refugees on the mainland, both effectively and humanely.

We did it in the 1970's with the Indo-chinese and we can do it again now. We do not need Malaysia or Naru and we do not need to make people suffer anymore than we already have.

Raising Boys

2012-03-14T09:08:00.000+11:00

As a mother, there is nothing more terrifying than watching your son journey across the bridge of adolescence. It matters not how many parental self-help books you have read, or how strong a relationship you have built and nurtured in the formative years, because from the age of 13 onwards, you will feel as if an alien has invaded his body and for a long period of time, you will wonder where he has gone.

Nobody tells you that it is going to be this hard. Until my son was 12 years old, he was a gorgeous boy with a beaming smile and a happy-go-lucky attitude. He loved life and he loved his family, and he and I shared a very close bond. And then overnight, that bubbly little cherub of a boy became almost unrecognisable and my role as a mother quickly went from answering questions about how the universe was made to keeping him out of danger - keeping him alive.

There is no rite of passage in our culture to mark the difficult transition from boyhood into manhood. And perhaps because of this, our boys resort to engaging in risk taking behaviour to assert their new found masculinity. Weekly binge drinking sessions, drug taking, getting into fights and driving too fast or drunk on our roads are all examples of young, male, risk taking behaviour. The absence of positive male role models, and in many cases the absence of fathers is also a real concern, particularly during these difficult and dangerous years when boys are inclined to pull away from their mothers and become more strongly influenced by their peers.

From the age of 13 onwards, I had no idea how to reach my son. I tried being his friend and when that didn't work, I tried being the disciplinarian and when that really didn't work, I switched back and forth between the two. Suddenly all of my parental confidence went out the window and I had no idea what I was doing. Of course I still took every opportunity to tell him that he was loved and I still asked him questions about his life, but the line of free and easy communication had sealed shut between us. I had no idea what was happening to my boy or to our relationship and I was scared that I was losing him because I was losing him to the bridge of adolescence in which mothers are not permitted to cross.

As I write this, I am pleasantly reminded that we are starting to see a shift toward more diverse and empowered young female role models in both cinema and on TV. This has occurred as a direct result of the social and political discourse that has taken place over the last decade regarding the negative role both the media and advertising play in shaping the body image of young girls/women. And yet I see no such evidence for the way in which we as a society have even begun to address the negative stereotypes defining our young adolescent men, nor has there been any move to empower them or provide them with positive affirmations on any real level. In fact what is occurring is quite the opposite. In both the media and in advertising, young men are either stereotyped as violent, drunk, stupid, sexist or obsessed with sports and cars. I think that as a society, we have become immune to these negative stereotypes and thus neglect to consider the implications that this form of blatant demonisation can create on the young impressionable male psyche.

There is no doubt that negative male branding has a detrimental effect on the minds of our young men, but it also trickles down to the way in which our young men are perceived by the wider community.
I will never forget the time my then 14 year old son came home in tears because a local shop keeper had accused him of planning to steal something. Of course he wasn't planning to steal anything, he was simply trying to choose what to eat and so I marched up to the shop with my son at my heels and demanded he be given an apology. He got the apology, but the damage had already been done.

It isn't just the media who must be called to account on the issue. In fact, the real work must start with our education system by encouraging male mentor programs or other initiatives to help bridge the divide. At the very least I believe that adolescent 'young men' should be taught ways in which to address and cope with the range of powerful emotions that can rise up and engulf them during this hormonally charged time. Often these emotions are unfamiliar and uncomfortable, and they are quickly manifested as anger. It is when this anger leaks outward toward the wider community or inward toward the self that we as a community feel the implications on our roads and on our streets, in our prisons and in our hospitals, and in our escalating mental health and suicide statistics.

It is no coincidence that the highest suicide rates in this country are accounted for by men.

In Australia in 2009 - 1,633 men committed suicide compared with 499 women.

22% of all those deaths occurred between men aged 15-24 years.

When I see these figures I am overcome with anger at the way in which we as a society continue to ignore the serious issues facing young men in the community today. And it isn't just suicide. Young men are dying in droves on our roads and the message around speed and drink driving just isn't getting through to the young male, peer group mentality.

In so many ways, these young men simply lack the emotional maturity to navigate through the world of adult behaviour - particularly risk taking behaviour - and in this sense I think we are failing our young men by not providing them with the positive support systems necessary to transition from good boys into good men.

I love my son as much now at 17 as I did when he was a little boy, in fact I love him more. I know that he needed to pull away from me and that I have done my job, to the best of my ability in raising him from a good boy into a good man. What happens now isn't up to me and that is the hardest part above all other parts about being a parent - realising that the time has come when you have to let go. Realising that you can no longer control all the elements and protect them from the world is terrifying but it is all part of the experience. Let go. And just trust that you have done your job and that he will make good choices. That is the best that we can hope for.

Addiction.

2012-02-19T11:50:00.001+11:00

Watch your thoughts, for they become your words. Watch your words for they become your actions. Watch your actions for they become your habits. Watch your habits for they become your character. Watch your character for it becomes your destiny.

Everybody knows somebody who has been impacted by addiction.

Whether it is an addiction to alcohol, drugs, gambling, food, shopping, sex or even hoarding; addiction is a major factor in the destruction of lives and the breakdown of relationships.

As a student of psychology, I am fascinated by the issue of addiction.

This fascination stems in part from the fact that I have been personally impacted by the cost of addiction. I have lost countless friends to drug addiction, including my beloved fiance, and I have watched from the sidelines as drug, alcohol and gambling addictions have torn apart the lives of people I care for.

But I have also struggled with my own addictions, and while I have been successful in conquering an alcohol addiction, my own battle with addiction is far from over.

Many people tend to think that addiction can be overcome with willpower, or in other words, by the power of the mind.

However, from what I have learnt and experienced, this simply isn't possible. An addiction to alcohol is not fought and won by simply deciding not to drink alcohol, just as an addiction to gambling isn't overcome by avoiding pubs and clubs.

In fact, statistics show that more often than not, addicts will fall off the metaphorical wagon when they attempt to go cold turkey. The reason for this low success rate of sustained abstinence is complex, but then again so is addiction.

It is these complex issues that we need to tackle in order to understand and overcome the devastating issues of addiction both in our own lives, and in the wider community.

Another misconception about addiction is that it only happens to people with addictive personalities. While research has shown a genetic link between generational addiction, it is important to understand that regardless of the type of addiction or the personality, all addicts are masking some form of pain.

Often, the pain of loneliness, anxiety, child abuse, grief, depression or low self- worth are just hiding beneath the surface, and the source of addiction becomes a tool used to mask or escape from that pain.

In this sense, the addiction becomes a coping mechanism and the addict becomes more and more reliant on that coping mechanism - not necessarily because it brings them pleasure, but rather, because it brings them relief from the pain of day to day living.

Unless the driving forces behind addiction are addressed, most addicts who manage to stop using their drug of choice, (alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex, shopping etc) usually end up transferring one addiction onto another addiction.

In other words, you can treat the issue of alcoholism by educating about abstinence, avoiding triggers etc, but unless you treat the driver behind alcoholism, the addict will often replace alcohol with something else that masks the pain, such as shopping, sex or eating, and in time, this too will progress to an addiction.

Recently I have been doing some research on compulsive hoarding or pathological collecting. According to Wikipdedia, this pattern of behaviour is characterised by 'an inability or unwillingness to discard large quantities of objects that would seemingly qualify as useless or without value'.

Many of us are guilty of acquiring too much, especially in this consumer economy. However, it is our ability to discard of objects that we no longer need or use, that distinguishes us from the pathological hoarder.

Compulsive hoarding is often linked to Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) however it is not clear whether compulsive hoarding is a symptom of OCD or an isolated disorder.

Other factors associated with the disorder include alcohol dependance as well as paranoid, schizotypal, avoidant and obsessive-compulsive traits. When thinking about compulsive hoarders, it is easy to conjure up disturbing images of men or women trapped inside their animal infested homes, in a pit of mess and squalor. And at the far end of the disorder, sadly, these images are accurate. However, there are varying degrees and types of hoarding, because like all addictions or compulsions, it is progressive in its nature.

While we don't really know what causes compulsive hoarding, we can hazard a guess that somewhere along the line, the obsessive hoarder has cut off from the outside world, replacing human contact with objects and / or animals.

Attaching sentimental connections to newspapers and over expired food items may seem bat shit crazy, but in the mind of the obsessive hoarder, nothing can be discarded out of a fear that it may be needed at a later date.

The treatment for this disorder is complex but one of the steps involves discarding one object for every new object that is brought into the home. This process takes place once the home has been cleaned and emptied of the majority of useless items.

Another tool used by mental health workers when treating this disorder is to take a before and after photo of the home. This helps the person to gain perspective and to see that the calamity in which they were living, is not normal, sanitary or healthy.

The stigma around addiction still exists in our community, largely because of social misconceptions and stereotypes.

However, it is important to remember that just like compulsive hoarding, all addictions are driven by a compulsion to carry out a behaviour and this is neither a matter of choice nor a problem that can be fought and won with will power alone.

It requires professional help, support and education to address and confront the issues driving the addictive behaviour.

seventeen years of winging it

2012-02-10T11:35:00.002+11:00

Tomorrow my first born child will be seventeen years old.

It is almost impossible to believe that seventeen years have passed since I went kicking and screaming into that hospital room as a naive twenty-year old girl.

I had so many hopes and dreams back then, and in a strange way anything seemed possible.

But by far the most important thing to me was that I would be a good mother to my son, and that I would raise him up into a fine young man that any mother would be proud of.

Little did I know back then that raising a child would turn out to be so freaking hard. I was young and I had romantic ideas about how it would all pan out. In my mind's eye, we would be best friends, kindred spirits who shared a special kind of bond.

When I was pregnant, people would often tell me how hard it was going to be, especially in those early years but I would just smile and nod politely while picturing the two of us walking hand in hand along some sun kissed beach, with smiles illuminating our blissfully happy faces.

YEAH RIGHT!

Parenting is by far and without a doubt the absolute hardest thing I have ever done. It never breaks for summer holiday or weekends, in fact during those times it requires even more blood, sweat and tears than ever. There is no rule book or help manual one can refer to when all hell is breaking loose and 99% of the time we are all just winging it and hoping that nobody catches on. I have been a mother now for seventeen years and I reckon I have acquired a pretty good idea about what not to do.

But the funny thing is, for all of my smarts and my sensibility and over a decade of acquired wisdom, if I had my time all over again, I would undoubtedly still make a million mistakes, have a heap of regrets and ache for some parenting angel to come fluttering down from the sky to tell me how to get it right.

Whenever my son and I butt heads I inevitably find myself reflecting on the argument in one of two ways. Either I blame myself and conclude that I have been too lenient or I blame myself and conclude that I have been too harsh.

What none of us parents will ever admit to one another is that a high percentage of our parenting choices are borne out of guilt. We feel guilty when we yell at them, guilty when we punish them and guilty when we don't give them what they want...Hell we even feel guilty about feeling guilty!

By far the hardest and most guilt ridden years for me have been these recent teenage years. At times I think maybe I have been too lenient and given him too much freedom.

To be honest, I thought I was doing right by him, by trusting and letting him go, mainly because I rebelled against the strict ship I was raised in. But I think it turns out I was kind of wrong.

It is much harder to say no to your child and face the painful reality of them disliking you than it is to say yes to them and have them regard you as their best friend.

It is only through my own trials and experiences that I can see how tough it must have been for my folks to stick to their guns, especially when I was throwing it all back in their faces. Back then I called them out for being the world's worst parents and now days I want to give them a medal of fucking honour.

Yep. Being a parent is tough and being a good parent takes courage.

If I have learnt anything from raising a teenage boy it's that it is not my job to appease him and to be his friend. It is my job to set him right from wrong and to make sure that he has the ability to make good choices for himself and to take care of himself when it comes time for him to leave the nest.

Of course it is our natural instinct to want to do everything for them and this stems from those early years when we are called upon to nourish and protect them, and of course to wipe their bums.

But by far the best thing we can do for our children (and especially our boys) is to stop doing everything for them. Making their school lunches for them when they are almost seventeen may be a nice gesture (wow it sounds even worse on paper) but it does not foster self-reliance.

In fact, it goes a long way to breeding lazy, selfish, ungrateful and incapable men. And the world has enough of those, right?

Give a man a fish and you will feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you will feed him for a lifetime. If I had my time over again I would get my son to make his own school lunches in primary school. I would teach him to cook basic meals (not necessarily all fish based) and do his own washing long before he was seventeen years old. I would.......

Anyway, there is still time (isn't there?) and I am planning to make some changes around here before another year passes us by and he moves out of home.... Sheesh.

At the end of the day, I made mistakes but I did my best with the tools I had in my cupboard. And while I haven't exactly raised a fisherman, I have managed to keep him alive and out of Juvie and I like to think I've raised a pretty good kid and one that I am proud of.

paradise lost

2012-02-09T19:11:00.000+11:00

Lately, I have felt entirely disconnected from the magic and the mystery of this planet. I have allowed myself to become weighted down by life's trivialities - weighed down by issues of money and physical pain, and stressed out by other people's problems. Somewhere along the line I have forgotten what attracted me to this divine stretch of coast five years ago - an attraction so intense that it inspired me to move my family here.

When I think back to those earlier heady days, I am swept up in a deep sense of connection and belonging. A connection to this land and to her crystal blue oceans and an affinity with the people who reside in these tiny treetop villages and with the magic that is created here in these hills.

It has taken the arrival of an old Melbourne friend to wake me from my tired, apathetic slumber. Seeing this place from her perspective, with brand new eyes, has made me remember why I fell in love with it so many years ago when I first came backpacking up the coast as a teenager. Even though it rained day and night during her first week here in paradise, my friend made everything about this place seem magical. She was just so delighted to be here.

During the last few days while I have been sitting on my arse smoking cigarettes and watching TV, my friend has hired a car and driven up north through Coloundra and Noosa, camping overnight in caravan parks and sleeping in her car. Each photo she posts is more spectacular than the last and it makes me wonder why it has taken me five years of living up here to even contemplate organising a similar adventure of my own. Actually it makes me feel quite sad.

Life is short and I am tired of wasting mine sitting around waiting for something good to happen. Bad things happen to people everyday, all over the world but I have been blessed to live in a country as magnificent as this one, where we are safe from the perils of war and famine, where we all have more than we could ever need. What I need now is to get out there and experience the magic that this country has to offer, that my life has to offer and I cannot let anything hold me back.

Once upon a time, I was so smitten with this stretch of country that I made my children leave their friends and extended family to come with me on an adventure. It is high time I started giving them that adventure.