Singular Insanity

Do you put yourself first?

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 20:00:00 +0000

I came across these words on a Facebook Page, After Narcissistic Abuse There is Light Life Love.

The page provides words of healing and understanding to those of us who have experienced narcissistic abuse from a sociopath.

Professor Google also found this "Personal Bill of Rights" on several websites with resources for women escaping domestic violence.

However, as I read the first few sentences, I realised that all of us could do with a reminder of these rights. Especially, as mothers, because I think that many of us forget about the first two.

"You have the RIGHT to be yourself.

You have the RIGHT to put yourself first.

You have the RIGHT to be safe and not in fear of being abused.

You have the RIGHT to love and be loved.

You have the RIGHT to be treated with respect.

You have the RIGHT to be human and not treated like property.

You have the RIGHT to be angry over past abuse.

You have the RIGHT to your own privacy.

You have the RIGHT to express your own opinions and feelings.

You have the RIGHT to earn and control your own money.

You have the RIGHT to ask questions about anything that affects your life.

You have the RIGHT to make decisions that affect you.

You have the RIGHT to grow, change and develop your talents and abilities.

You have the RIGHT to say no and have it mean no.

You have the RIGHT to make mistakes.

You have the RIGHT not to be responsible for other adults' problems.

You have the RIGHT to choose and have your own friends.

You have the RIGHT to change your own life, if you are not happy with it.

You have the RIGHT not to be isolated from other people.

You have the RIGHT to protect your children from abusive situations.

You have the RIGHT to leave the abusive environment.

You have the RIGHT to request and expect help from police and social service agencies.

You have the RIGHT to leagally prosecute the abusing partner"

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My office - my shame

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 08:28:00 +0000

This post is sponsored by RocketFuel

As you know I've been trying to declutter my life, both literally and metaphorically, in the last few months. Moving house twice within a year has been a significant help. Faced with the huge amount of stuff we have, I have found my bins, hard rubbish collections and my local charity shops to be by new best friends.

Once we moved into our current home, it didn't take me very long to unpack, as we finally had enough space for all the stuff. Well, except for one room in the house. My room. My work room.

It is an office, study, studio, retreat all rolled into one. Or rather it's meant to be.

This is what it looked like about three months ago.

I promised myself I would get it all sorted out before Christmas. And yet, this is what it looks like now:

Yes, it is a significant improvement, but what you can't see in the photos are the stacks and piles of paper on the floor, that I simply don't know what to do with. I just don't have the right kind of storage.

Being an IKEA addict from way back, (in fact there are some IKEA pieces in my house that are around thirty years old!), I recently bought this unit to organise the kids' art and craft suff:

Now, all I need are some IKEA fairies to come and do to my work room, what they did to this study. (Check it out! You'll want your very own IKEA fairies.... )

Except I have a lot more stuff.

What is your "shame" room?

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If you'd like to see your logo here for the next 3 or 6 months check out my sponsorship packages for the Digital Parents Conference 2012:

Yarn bombing at Loch Village

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 11:40:00 +0000

I had only heard of "yarn bombing" as an urban phenomenon in the last few weeks.

I have seen photos of "yarn bombers" at work in various online media.

It seemed like such a pointless thing to do, particularly to someone who struggles to justify any time spent on anything that doesn't have a purpose.

Then, on a whim, I manhandled my children into the car on Sunday for a spontaneous road trip. When we're all going stir crazy and start bickering for no reason, it's a sure sign that a change of surroundings is desperately needed. And a reasonably quiet travel time, whilst both children are plugged into electronic devices.

I chose to take them to Loch Village, where a woodworking and quilting festival was supposedly taking place. Loch describes itself as a historical village, so I figured some photography practice might also be possible. And it's only an hour away from home.

Unfortunately, we couldn't find the woodworking festival. We did find some stalls with quilts and quilting supplies, a few art galleries and antique shops filled with bric-a-brac, as well as some cafes not really prepared to cope with weekend crowds, or children. Service was slow, child-friendly food non-existent and all the sausage rolls were sold out.

The best surprise was the yarn bombing. It tickled my fancy. It made me smile. I thought it was the cutest, silliest thing ever. I GOT it. The notion of prettifying our urban surroundings with whimsical patches of yarn. I want someone to come and yarn bomb our street! Our school!

There will be another post about Loch Village. I have lots more photos. But for now, tell me, are you one of them? I promise I won't tell anyone.....!

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If you'd like to see your logo here for the next 3 or 6 months check out my sponsorship packages for the Digital Parents Conference 2012:

Mega Back-To-School Giveaway!

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 10:18:00 +0000

You may have noticed a change from the recent emo blogging on here. This is partly due to some outstanding PR commitments I had made, but it is also an attempt to drag myself out of the depression by using my head to create something positive and constructive.

Reviews and giveaways give me an opportunity to do that, and, really, I quite enjoy doing them.

So, without any further ado, I bring you three more opportunities to win stuff, to help you with the "back to school" blues (or glee, in my case).

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Smash Nude Food Movers

I considered dragging out all my Smash products and taking a photo to show you how much I love them, but then I thought that could be quite embarrassing, so I will limit myself to a photo of the little pack that arrived at my door step the other day.

As mentioned, we already love these in this house. I have two of the large lunch boxes, each with the "keep cool" neoprene cover and two of the little coloured containers for cut fruit, yoghurt, dip, salad, cheese - whatever your kids will eat. I love that the curved lid allows for a whole apple and will even fit a whole banana. The large compartment has a slot-in tray to put a sandwich on and leave space below for a small ice pack.

I bought my first Nude Food Mover lunch box after searching high and low for a compartmentalised lunch box, which would remove the need for any packaging while keeping all the food separate. My boys' school has slowly, but surely, been encouraging the kids to minimise their rubbish and these boxes have certainly let me do that.

To see the whole Smash Nude Food Movers product range go here. Personally, my favourite is the large stainless steel bottle I received and I am keeping that for myself (much to the kids' disappointment).

The prize I have on offer today is a Large Nude Food Mover lunch box and a snack tube. All you have to do is complete the form below. Did I mention that all the products are BPA-free? Yay!

Budons Stationery

Everyone loves stationery, right? My kids seem to have inherited this from me, because as soon as this package was opened, I barely had time to photograph it, before it all got snatched away.

The two notebooks above have scratch'n'sniff covers - one is mint (A5) and the other banana (A4). And the little hard cover notebook (A5) has space on the front cover for the little interchangeable and, of course, collectible Budons clip-on characters. My boys thought these were very cute.

To win the above set, just use the form below.

Omega Delight

If you watched my mega-long vlog from the July Bloggers' Brunch, you will remember how much trouble I have getting my kids to take fish oil supplements. I have tried every single child-friendly product on the market, with "yuk!" results. So, as is my wont, I again piped up on Twitter during a recent blogger event and was sent four bottles of Omega Delight, by Nature's Own to try.

The benefits of Omega-3 in children:

Omega -3 fatty acids can't be produced by the body so it's important to include them in your child's diet.
Omega-3 is required for optimal brain function and may be beneficial for behaviour, cognitive function, memory and learning in some children.
As children grow, their requirements for Omega-3 may increase

This fish oil supplement comes in liquid, rather than chewable tablet form, which makes it ideal for squirting into unsuspecting mouths. There are three flavours: citrus, mango peach and pineapple. It is quite thick, like a smoothie, in texture, smells pretty yummy and could potentially be sold to your kids as a treat.

I did have to resort to squirting the required 5 ml dosage into my boys' mouths, with the following results: Mr 9 - "Yum!!! More, more!!!" and Mr 5 - "Yuk!", quickly followed by spitting up his mouth contents onto his carpet.

Given that it's Mr 9 who needs it most, due to his short attention span, constant fidgeting and some anxiety, I'm a pretty happy mummy. I just have to work on the five year-old's stubbornness.

To win a pack of three bottles of Omega Delight, one of each flavour, worth $65.85, just fill out the form below.

Now, for the (really) fine print:

Only Australian Residents are eligible to enter.
For entries to be eligible, contestants must complete the entry form. Incomplete entries, or answers exceeding 25 words, will be deemed invalid.
There are three prizes and three winners will be chosen - one for each prize. The most interesting/creative complete entry will win. Judge's decisions are final and no correspondence will be entered into.
Entries close midnight, 18 February 2012, and will be drawn on 19 February 2012. The winne() will be notified by email, and posted to www.singularinsanity.com.
Prizes are not transferable, changeable or redeemable for cash.
Employees and their immediate families of the Promoter, are ineligible to enter.
Entrants' personal information is collected in order to conduct the promotion. Personal information will be kept confidential and not passed onto third parties.
The Promoter is Dorothy Krajewski of SingularInsanity.com. Contact: Dorothy@singularinsanity.com

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If you'd like to see your logo here for the next 3 or 6 months check out my sponsorship packages for the Digital Parents Conference 2012:

Records for Reluctant Readers - Guinness World Records 2012 Giveaway

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 02:01:00 +0000

My nine year old started Grade 4 this year. He is NOT a reluctant reader. Not any more. However, it took a few years for him to finally discover the magical worlds that books can transport him into.

It's not that he has trouble reading. Not at all. He breezed through all the readers in prep and 1st grade, but he (and I!) found them excruciatingly boring. He was drawn to non-fiction books, about bears and tractors, but there weren't that many of them about.

I began buying him non-fiction books for home and these held his attention for far longer than any stories. Until we discovered Zac Power and Beast Quest. By then he was well on his way to a healthy book addiction. Right now he dips in and out of his non-fiction books, as well as devouring the Narnia set.

When I went to an open morning in his school at the beginning of Grade 3, I was surprised to discover several copies of the Guinness World Records among the books for "quiet reading", which all grades do in the morning. I was also surprised by how popular these were, as the kids ran to the reading boxes and grabbed these first.

Is it any wonder though?

They are big, shiny and sparkly;
they are filled with full colour, attention-grabbing photographs;
each record is presented as a small snippet of information taking a few seconds to absorb and move on;
kids find the records fascinating!

You would not believe the excitement in my son's eyes when I showed him a copy of the Guinness World Records 2012, which arrived last year for me to review. He was beside himself with joy knowing he had one of his very own, and he had it before anyone else! He was also excited when I gave him a job - to find the most interesting records for me to include in this post.

Here are just a few of them:

"Largest Galaxy - Andromeda is the largest galaxy in the "Local Group", the cluster that includes Earth's own galaxy, the Milky Way." (Scientific much, my boy?)

"Most Popular Sat-Nav Voice - According to TomTom, the market-leading manufacturer of car satellite navigation systems, Homer Simpson, voiced by US actor, Dan Castellaneta, has been downloaded a record 128,500 times since 2009." (He said he liked this one because he likes Homer.)

"Largest Game of Leapfrog - 1,348 students and visitors to the Canterbury Agricultural and Pastoral (A&P) Show in Christchurch, New Zealand." (That sounds like a fun day!)

"Oldest Pre-Columbian Calendar Still in Use - Sacred round Mesoamerican calendars - that is, those devised by the Pre-Columbian cultures of present-day Mexico and Central America - continue to to be used in one form or another to the present day, having passed from the Olmecs (1500-400 BC) to the Maya (up to AD 900) and then to the Aztecs (up to the 1500s)." (I wonder if he knows that the Mayan calendar ends in 2012?)

"Oldest Leather Shoe - In 2008, archaeologists found a 5,500-year-old leather shoe in the Areni-1 cave in the south-eastern Vayotoz Dzor province in Armenia." (So we can blame the Armenians for our out-of-control shoe habits?)

My verdict?

I would highly recommend Guinness World Records for all kids. Not just for reluctant readers, but all kids interested in learning about the world, learning facts, learning curiosities. It will fill their thirst for knowledge and lead them into interests they perhaps didn't know they had.

I do think, however, that it is an excellent tool for luring those reluctant readers into the world of books, because of those brilliant pictures, the bite-sized bits of text and the huge variety of topics, that I reckon will appeal to just about anyone.

You can purchase the Guinness World Records 2012 here, or to win your very own copy fill out the form below.

The (really) fine print:

Only Australian Residents are eligible to enter.
For entries to be eligible, contestants must complete the entry form. Incomplete entries, or answers exceeding 25 words, will be deemed invalid.
The most interesting/creative complete entry will win one copy of Guinness World Records 2012v. Judge's decisions are final and no correspondence will be entered into.
Entries close midnight, 17 February 2012, and will be drawn on 18 February 2012. The winner(s) will be notified by email, and posted to www.singularinsanity.com.
Prizes are not transferable, changeable or redeemable for cash.
Employees and their immediate families of the Promoter, are ineligible to enter.
Entrants' personal information is collected in order to conduct the promotion. Personal information will be kept confidential and not passed onto third parties.
The Promoter is Dorothy Krajewski of SingularInsanity.com. Contact: Dorothy@singularinsanity.com

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If you'd like to see your logo here for the next 3 or 6 months check out my sponsorship packages for the Digital Parents Conference 2012:

Crazy weather at Adventure Park, Geelong

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 23:55:00 +0000

It all started with a paella.

As we stood around waiting for it to be ready, we chatted about this and that. About kids and schools and birthday parties.

At that point in the year, I was somewhat stressed about my son's birthday party expectations. I was not in a mood to look after a gang of nine year olds, anywhere. Especially when some of those said nine year olds hadn't been very kind to my boy that year.

That's why my ears pricked up when someone mentioned Adventure Park, near Geelong. How, instead of a party, a child had an outing to Adventure Park with their family and how much they loved it. Hearing this mum rave about the fabulosity of Adventure Park, I came away with a potential ninth birthday celebration idea for my boy.

Several weeks later, as the end of the year drew near and the time for organising a party and inviting friends began running out (his birthday is in mid-January), I made an executive decision. Adventure Park it was going to be! With the added bonus of my son's best friend and his family included.

Little did I know that Adventure Park were planning a little adventuring of their own. Quite accidentally, I came across a Twitter conversation about a blogger event at Adventure Park and while I hadn't been invited, I immediately piped up and suggested how happy I would be to blog about them in exchange for some tickets, especially as we had already planned to go.

Well, apparently it was meant to be. The timing was perfect and I was very excited to receive some free tickets in the mail.

The day of our adventure dawned grey, humid and drizzly. Yikes!

Not to be deterred and having been promised warmth and showers only by the weather gods in my phone, we set off on the two hour drive.

There was rain and there was sun and there were clouds and more rain. The temperature fluctuated from 26C to 22C to 28C. And this was only the drive! Mountains of snacks were consumed, games were played, "how much longer?" was whined a few times.

And then we were there. Our friend had snagged a table in the Lake Pavillion, so we had a base camp. And we were under a solid roof.

After a quick change into swimsuits the boys were off like two little rockets!

This was what we saw:

Notice the ominous clouds?

Fun on the Jumping Jets before the rain

After about an hour of exploring, the storm broke. There was lashing rain, there was thunder, there were cold winds!

Do you think the kids cared? Not at all! They were already wet as they played at Bonito's Bay. There were water slides, there were water buckets, sprays, there was water everywhere. What difference did a bit of sky water make?

Picture taken AFTER the storm

It did, however, make a difference to me. The rain was cold and unpleasantly harsh on my skin. The wind was cold and blustery, people began clearing off. With great difficulty and a lot of shouting, I gathered my monsters and marched them off to base camp to dry and warm up.

As soon as we had lunch, the rain stopped and there was this:

Thus began an afternoon of fun, extreme wetness and, suprisingly, exercise. Those paddle boats may look and feel easy to "drive", but three hours later, my legs could barely move....

And it's not just water fun. There is an awesome Carousel, go-karts, electric cars, moon bikes, two mini-golf courses, a giant jumping pillow and a "train" ride around the park.

Our favourite was Bonito's Bay water park, which is right next to Tiny Tots, with the River Torrent Lazy River a close second.

I love that you can hire a private cabana for the day, where you sit and relax while your kids go mental in the water park.

There are plenty of shady areas with tables to set up your base camp and while we were lucky to go on a really quiet day, I could see just how much space there was for it to cater for busy days.

We brought our own food that day, but you can buy ready made food on site, including ice cream and slushies. There also seemed to be plenty of parking.

I am told that on busy days, the queues for some rides can be quite long. So, it definitely makes sense to come early, establish base camp and have heaps of fun before lunch.

As we were packing up to go home (nearly at closing time, which is 6.30 pm during summer holidays), I asked the birthday boy to show me how much fun he had. This was his response:

Thank you to Adventure Park for our complimentary tickets and a fantastic day! We will be back!

What about you? What was your most recent adventure?

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Alive and brilliant...

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 11:37:00 +0000

Tonight, just in case you were wondering, I give you this, interwebz. Dedicated to you.

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Who are "they"? "They" seem to say so much...

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 07:37:00 +0000

This post is brought to you courtesy of a date with myself at a local gallery cafe. I had just seen a new GP. She is very nice. She understands.

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It's curious to see yourself and your story reflected in another person's eyes. Especially when you tell them the facts, nothing but the facts, stripped of all the emotion that is so ingrained in you that you don't even realise it's there.

You watch their eyes and face and see the horror and disbelief you felt all that time ago and still do at times, when you let yourself feel anything.

You've become so disassociated from all that pain, that it's quite a shock to see it reflected back at you, especially when you tell them just the facts.

Then there are others, those that have "been" there all this time, but have never truly understood, or perhaps have become as desensitised as you have to the story, those that think that you should "get over it" and are so sick of your "moaning" that it makes them incapable of feeling any sympathy, yet alone empathy for you.

And you?

Even though your skin is thick and you are used to dealing with the facts, a lot of the time the emotions are there, just under the surface, almost unnoticed. Until something, anything, triggers them and brings them up to the surface with such force that you are shocked by their intensity.

And they bring you to your knees, they try to force their way out through your mouth, but you know there are children and so there is just this silent scream, that somehow is better than nothing. Sometimes there are tears and physical force and furniture is kicked, your skull punched and banged against the wall and you are your own worst enemy.

And then it's over.

Where did this come from???

I was fine!! I was fine!!

Why this?? I don't want this!! I want to feel fine. I want to feel happy and content and joyful, but there is this pain, this lack of joy - I don't want this!!!

Go back!! Go back to where you were hiding, you are not helping me. I need to get on with my life!

"They" say that you need to acknowledge your emotions, "honour" them, before you can heal. I don't know who "they" are, but I know I don't fucking like it!!

All this emotional crap is so bloody painful...

I WANT to be happy!

I WANT to be free of this!

Can't you see???

I don't want to "wallow". I don't know how to get free. Do you?

I'm feeding myself healthy food, except for the chocolate. I went for a walk. I took myself out to lunch.

"Be gentle to yourself", "they" say.

What DO they mean?

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Sometimes.... there is writing and there is writing

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 12:13:00 +0000

Sometimes what you see here is carefully crafted and researched, with links and photos and words that are just right.

Sometimes what you see here is inspired by some connection to my "higher self" - the words just flow out of me and require no editing, maybe only a tweak here and there. It is a crafting of sorts, but it comes from a different place, a place in my mind where ideas and thoughts brew and stew until they become some magical potion that is poured into my fingers and transferred into words on the screen. Those posts, I am proud of the most.

Sometimes what you see here is pure stream of consciousness. Where I just type, sometimes with my eyes closed, my fingers knowing the exact places the letters are at and they make no mistakes. Sometimes the words lead me to unexpected places, unexpected realisations and conclusions. These may not be the best crafted or inspired writings, but they are the most cathartic.

Sometimes these posts appear scattered and disconnected, as my mind jumps from one thought to another, each causing a ripple effect, even though to you they may seem completely unrelated. Sometimes you will respond to one of these thoughts, yet I have already moved on, my mind on the final conclusion that my meandering has come to.

I am enormously grateful for your presence here. For every single comment, for every single thought you send my way, for every minute that I take up in your life.

Please know that I am mostly, physically OK. My mind is and will continue to be turbulent, until I can get some decent medical care, but I am handling it.

Sometimes, for me, saying that I'm not OK, is evidence that I will be. Because I am noticing how I am and I am talking to you.

For me, the realisation that I no longer had a soft place to fall and that I never really had one, was sudden and painful. It made me cry. I needed to cry. I needed to realise that and to say it.

I've always said that this blog was my therapy. Now I know that you're part of it, too.

There is a kitten sleeping on my foot. More therapy in action.

Here is a photo to make you smile:

How do you write?

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Still no idea...

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 07:25:00 +0000

Image by Mike Bitzenhofer

So I'm still not OK. My appointment with the only GP that I can talk to got cancelled and now she is taking an extended leave of absence. I can't see her until May. I've made an appointment with another one just to get some more meds, because I've run out and I can feel it. My head is a tumble of poisonous worms.

I have no idea what I'm doing.

I'm seeing a psychiatrist in about three weeks. I hope she can point me in the right direction.

I'm struggling.

I know I have so much to be grateful for. I know all the things I should be doing.

But I feel so shit. I just can't. be. bothered.

And then I read about people being sick of reading "woe is me" stories. In all their forms. And I think I am a waste of space. If I don't talk to you, interwebz, who do I talk to?

I know it's the chemicals in my head. I know they're screwed. I know I should be grateful. Why aren't I grateful? Why can't anyone else see how screwed up I am? What do I have to do? Do I climb on top of my roof and scream "Fuck you, World!" at the top of my lungs, for someone to even notice?

How can I be so highly functioning and rational, while I feel so shit? Like I want to die? There is the surface me and the proper me, the miserable me, who can hide even from the surface me sometimes. Maybe I should bury her even deeper? Then she won't scream and cry and complain, "Woe is me!" Because I am so sick of her...

And I should wake up and be grateful and heal and find myself, but I have no fucking idea how....

What do I want?

Quiet. To sink into a fluffy cloud in silence, with no sensation, other than silence and softness.

Yes, I want a soft place to fall. The soft place to fall that never existed. Ever. The soft place to fall that turned out to be a bed of nails and hot coals and my skin just got tough enough to not feel it. But now I feel it and I want softness and comfort and silence.

So I hide in my room, in my bed and I eat and watch TV to shut out the noise of life. I don't want life. I want quiet and softness and arms to hold me. And to mean it.

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If you'd like to see your logo here for the next 3 or 6 months check out my sponsorship packages for the Digital Parents Conference 2012:

Why I'm not here today.

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 07:06:00 +0000

Can you spot me? Does the big white arrow help?

If you want to know more about this photo, you'll have to read my post at Simply Multicultural, associated with Global Kidz Oz. I'll be popping up there from time to time, so keep your eyes peeled!

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If you'd like to see your logo here for the next 3 or 6 months check out my sponsorship packages for the Digital Parents Conference 2012:

So now I'm a fashion blogger...

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 02:43:00 +0000

Except I'm not.

I started to write an uplifting post about how I've embraced my body and how being part of the blogging world has allowed me to play with clothes and fashion again. I even took up Fox in Flats' #scarfdare.

Except that I did it late at night, in the privacy of my own bedroom. I had fun researching all the different ways you can wear a scarf on YouTube and was fascinated by the intricacies involved in wearing the hijab, as demonstrated here.

(I think there is a deep, dark part of me wanting to bury and hide myself inside a burqa, except I know I couldn't tolerate the heat.)

After decades of hiding my arms and shoulders, I bought some strappy tops and dresses, hoping to get used to the sight of them. I love strappy dresses on a hot day and I love the frills on the ones I've bought.

And then I looked in the mirror yesterday, and again this morning, and realised that I haven't embraced my body at all.

I may have become more open to the kind of clothes I wear and less caring about what people think about how I look. I try to wear clothes that are comfortable and make me feel good (hence the frills). I even overcame my fear of Fisherman Pants (it's all in the fold, you see), because they are ultra comfy.

Yet, I still hate the way I look. Jess, from Diary of a SAHM wrote this post a few weeks back about her struggles with body image. I could totally relate to that. As I look at photos of myself from various stages of my life, from primary school to my 30s, I can't believe that I believed myself "fat".

I think it all started with primary school bullies, who insisted on calling me "fat", even though I was not. Apparently because I wasn't skeletal, that made me "fat". Those words sunk deep into my consciousness and have never left.

There may have been this:

Aged around one.

But this is not fat:

Aged 7. First day of school.

Nor is this:

Aged 23 with my sister

Or this:

Aged 34 with my first-born son.

So now, when I am 20 kg overweight, I want to shout at that 20 and 30 year old, telling her that her body is beautiful and she needs to take care of it. Because now, it seems so much harder.

Every time a child comes out of his room at night, with some excuse or another about not being able to sleep, I send him back to bed and head to the pantry, or fridge, or freezer. I seek comfort in the only place I know.

My energy levels ebb and flow. Usually I use the energy peaks to get some writing done, or unpack yet another box or de-clutter another square metre of this house. I forget to go out for a walk. I forget to do yoga. I forget how much I'll hate myself after I eat that big block of Kit Kat.

I am not going to make any resolutions here. And, like Jess, I am not writing this to ask for compliments. I write this to get it out of my head. I write this because I need to say it. I write this because I fear for my body as it ages.

I see older people shuffle along at the local shopping centre with their walkers, shuffle into the doctor's surgery and I know that I am likely to shuffle too, because I haven't done my body any favours in the last few years.

Despite everything that's happened, despite how fucked up my head is, I've been lucky with my body. It has always been pretty healthy and I've taken it for granted. It is probably time I woke up.

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I would like to thank Andrea from Fox in Flats, Nikki from Styling You and Norlin from Baubles, Bubbles and Bags for continuing to inspire me to play with fashion.

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Arms open wide

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 12:43:00 +0000

I sit here.
In the darkness, on my bed.
Night has fallen on your ninth birthday.

I sit here
In the darkness, on my bed.
My arms open wide, resting gently in front of me.

I sit here.
In the darkness, on my bed.
Trying to remember what you felt like in my arms when you were born.

My arms feel empty.
And full at the same time.
I have given you life, a life for you make of what you will.

I reach back into my memory
Struggling to remember your tiny weight and form in my arms.
What I remember best are your eyes.

Dark blue newborn eyes.
Staring at me from beneath a shock of black hair.
Staring at me, from your plastic bassinet, as I woke up on our first morning together.

How did you know I was your mother?

I fell in love with you that day.
When we came home, I sat on the front veranda, in my big chair, breastfeeding you.
I was so content. This was so easy.

I sit here.
In the darkness, on my bed.
Remembering that first year of your life, with such sorrow.

I cried when you turned one.
That year was so hard.
My heart broke so many times.

I sit here.
In the darkness, on my bed.
I know I've done the best I could. Always.

My arms are empty, yet full.
I have given you life.
A life that is your own to make of what you will.

I hope I can teach you enough.
Give you enough.
Love you enough.

I sit here.
In the darkness, on my bed.
My arms open wide, resting gently beside me.
Full of love and life. For you.

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Things I know - I has new photos!

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 20:00:00 +0000

I think I may actually know a few things this week.

It's been a hell of a roller-coaster ride over the last few weeks, but after yet another change in medication, some cathartic writing and with the help of some amazing people who have reached out to me, I am feeling a bit more like myself.

Mostly, though, it's been the medication.

So what do I know this week?

About me

This is my new normal. Over the last week or so I have felt more "normal" than I have for a very long time. A lot less resentment, anger and sadness. A lot more being in the moment. A lot more stuff getting done.

I find it very hard to think about the future, so I don't. Right now, planning for next week requires enormous effort. My attention span can only really cope with a day or two. And that's fine. It stops me worrying about the future. One day at a time.

About people

I don't have to like, or even tolerate, everyone that comes into my life. I can try, and I do, but when there are things about them that consistently upset me, it's best to remove myself from their lives.

Not everyone that comes into my life will like, or even tolerate, me. I believe that everyone comes into our life for a reason. I also believe that they leave for a reason.

I need to make a bigger effort to people and connect with them when I'm feeling well. This fills me up for when I'm not feeling so well and makes it easier to re-connect.

About business

I think I'm finally getting this "personal branding" shizz. See the new header up there? That's me! Up on top :) And I'm trying to get my name, my work out there. In whatever ways I can.

I've had glimpses over the last few months of how I want my business/work life to be. I'm not quite sure how to make it happen, but I'm happy to keep experimenting.

Blogging is not enough. I need more stuff to do. Writing stuff. Social stuff. Interwebz stuff. Fixing stuff. Travel stuff.

About kittens

They're cute as hell and make me and the boys smile.

They're crazy and destructive and love to put on a show.

They have the same propensity as babies for smearing poo everywhere.

They have sharp claws which make washing them a tricky affair. But not as tricky as bathing adult cats, although, apparently some cats actually like bathing.

They make me very thankful for my steam mop.

About Photos

I have a friend, called Niki. Our sons have been in daycare together for the last couple of years. Niki has been studying photography for about six months and is already taking some stunning photos, photos which make me extremely envious of her talent, not to mention her equipment. You should check out some of her photos here and here. And, she even blogs at Tinker Tailor Soldier Sailor.

Niki agreed to take some photos of me to use for "publicity". It was quite funny. We both felt a bit silly, although things could have got a lot sillier if we were not being watched by three little boys. (I have to say, I've forgotten how to be silly, especially in front of my children).

Here is a collage I made for you of some of the shots Niki took.

Images by Niki Whitfield-Hart

What do you know this week?

Linking up with Kellie from The Good, The Bad & The Unnecessary

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The Power of Words

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 03:17:00 +0000

The writings of the last few days have caused me to again consider the power of words. The power of the carefully chosen word, the painstakingly sculpted phrase, the meticulously constructed paragraph.

The force of a comma and a full stop. Alliteration and repetition.

At times my words flow easily, at others they don't. At times, I write and rewrite and delete and copy and paste. Sometimes, my words come as verse.

Lately, I've began using a thesaurus, because the meagre words that flow from my medication and depression addled mind are not enough.

Today, Cate Bolt shared this video on Facebook. I share it with you, not for the political message, although you are welcome to hear it too, but to demonstrate the sheer power of words.

May it inspire you, like it inspired me.

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Addict, cheater, liar and fool

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 22:08:00 +0000

Every ceremony, be it marriage, christening or funeral has a song, a dedication.

Here is a fitting one to play as part of my unmarriage rites -

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With these words, I unmarry you.

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 08:40:00 +0000

Today, I declare the end of my marriage to you.

I acknowledge that you broke every marriage vow you made.

I acknowledge and lay at your feet:

every lie you ever told me,
every vow you ever broke,
every promise you didn't keep,
every hope you crushed,
every plan you never meant to carry out,
every word you ever said to me and about me,
every single betrayal - in thoughts, words and actions.

I open my heart to show you and all those around me the devastation you wrought there.

I acknowledge and share with the world the trauma my mind and body suffered as a result of your abusive manipulation and lack of care for me.

I acknowledge your responsibility for your actions, your words and your intentions. I hold myself responsible for mine.

I acknowledge all my feelings and experiences as real. I acknowledge that they were based on your lies and misrepresentations, as well as my desperate need to believe in you and to see good in you.

I acknowledge that every word you ever spoke was aimed at manipulating others and getting you what you wanted.

I acknowledge that while your fathering actions appeared sound and "good", they did not take into account the emotional wellbeing of our children. Your only concern has always been and will always be only for you - for how you see yourself and how you are perceived by others. I acknowledge that you enlisted them to further your lies and betrayals. I vow to keep them away from you as long as I am able.

I sever the bond that grew between us, a bond that I mistook for love and trust, a bond based on lies, co-dependence and shame.

I dismiss you from my life, from my heart, from my thoughts, from my future.

I cannot dismiss you from my past, but I will allow the past to teach me.

With these words I unmarry you, so that I may walk free towards peace and happiness.

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The Seven Habits of Highly Sociopathic Husbands

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 02:35:00 +0000

I read Mrs Woog's post today on The Seven Habits of Highly Irritating Husbands. If you haven't read it yet, go and do it now, you'll probably laugh.

My immediate response to posts like these is "You think THAT'S irritating? THIS is irritating!" and proceed to list all the misdemeanors my ex committed. I even started to write a comment on Mrs Woog's post along these lines, but managed to stop myself, just in time, for once.

You see, I totally understand the spirit in which such posts are written and I remember being among the women who are privileged enough to talk about their partners like that.

What happened to me was highly unusual. Not unheard of, but definitely out of the norm. I hate that. I resent not being part of the "wife club".

I was made a wife when I got married and am finding it incredibly difficult to accept that I am one no longer. The process that obliterated my "wife" status does not seem complete.

For me, marriage is not just a piece of paper. A piece of paper that can easily be reversed by another piece of paper.

The divorce process is about creating a piece of paper - with all the "i"s dotted and "t"s crossed. It is cold and impersonal, transacted in dry legal language, not requiring either party to be present. Yes, you become a "party", even though the lawyers keep referring to you as husband and wife. Until the hearing is over and you eventually receive your piece of paper in the mail.

Contrast this to the highly emotional process of marriage, where each word is chosen carefully and is pregnant with boundless meaning and possibility. Marriage is conducted in public, witnessed by everyone who is important in your life and celebrated with joy. At least mine was.

I need an "unmarriage" ceremony. One that is charged with meaning, witnessed and mourned by everyone who matters. One where I can scream and wail and utter words which will adequately express the anger, the disappointment and the disgust I feel about the way I was treated.

To me, the end of my marriage has been, and continues to be, like a death. It is made more so by the knowledge that everything I thought I had, every single experience, was a lie. What I had might as well have not existed. They only proof that it did, is the hatred I continue to feel towards the sociopath who bluffed me into loving him and the people he conspired with to keep me blind.

I will end how I meant to start, with:

The Seven Habits of Highly Sociopathic Husbands:

lying;
adultery;
exchanging pornographic emails with a fifteen year old girl;
causing the Federal Police to raid my home;
being jailed for a sex offence against a minor;
manipulating me into being his support person in the days before going to jail, while he was on suicide watch;
realising that the time I called the police to do a welfare check on him and they couldn't reach him, he was actually with his girlfriend;
causing me to visit prisons for the first time in my life;
teaching my children how to lie;
convincing just about everyone around me that I was emotionally unstable and unable to care for my kids;
filing a report against me to Child Protection;
not giving a shit when I went missing for 24 hours;
telling me he wanted to makes things work the day before packing his belongings and his girlfriend's belongings into a truck in preparation for a move to the country to live with his mother.

Oops! That's more than seven. And that's only the tip of the iceberg.

My suggestion is to NOT marry a sociopath. If you feel that something isn't right, it most likely isn't.

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Why children are not like kittens

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 20:00:00 +0000

This post is for those of you who are yet to acquire either children, or kittens.

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Our family of three recently became a family of five with the acquisition of two cute, fluffy grey kittens. These came to us via a Facebook lament about the unavailability of appropriate kittens. Luckily, a friend of a friend needed a home for two kittens. We had a home that needed two kittens.

The kittens were born and raised in a home, not a kitten farm and they are proving to be extremely adorable and well adjusted companions for me and the boys. I love that they have each other when we're not around and seem to have not suffered any anxiety while changing homes.

As a keen observer of life, I noticed some major differences between children and kittens and I thought I would share those with you, especially if you are yet to make a decision about which of those two you would like to add to your family.

Well, apart from the very obvious toileting, grooming and food choice issues, there are some other key differences you should consider before making your decision.

1. Fighting

Kittens fight, a lot. They pounce on and assault each other out of pure boredom. But when one has had enough, or has been hurt, they walk away and hide.

Children, well, siblings at least, fight, a lot. They attack and annoy each other out of pure boredom. But when one has had enough, or has been hurt, they do not walk away. They fight harder. Or they cry, or sulk or have a temper tantrum. Or require a visit to the Emergency Department.

2. Playing

Kittens play together really well and they do it a lot. They run around like crazy, causing havoc and mischief wherever they go. But when they get tired, they just drop. They curl up around each other, or stretch out alongside each other and sleep.

Children play together really well, some of the time. The run and jump and shout and yell, causing havoc and mischief wherever they go. But when they get tired, they do not stop. They get cranky and teary and start fighting. Or have a temper tantrum. Or require a visit to the Emergency Department.

3. Talking

Kittens purr and squeak - cute.

Children talk and ask questions all the time - not so cute. They also yell, shriek and squeal - down right annoying.

4. Eating

Kittens eat what's in their food bowl. Even cat food.

Children eat only what they like, or have eaten before and feel like eating again. This is in no way predictable. Sometimes they won't eat even when they're hungry. Because it's "disgusting". They know this without tasting.

5. Healing

Watching kittens play takes me away from myself, from my incessant thoughts, letting me stay in the moment. I laugh at their silly antics and complete absorption in their play. Their fur is soft and their purring soothing.

Watching my children play sometimes fills me with joy - when they get along. Other times it makes me stabby and want to run away, especially when the play ends in tears, or in them being covered in mud. Or when they make me play with them. They were much more enjoyable to watch as babies and I did it a lot back then. Still, they give me a reason to live and that's pretty significant.

So, have I helped you decide?

Which would you rather have? Children or kittens?

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There's always an upside

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 00:05:00 +0000

It's been a tough few days. My rational mind does come to the rescue at times like these and even through intense emotional pain helps to keep me afloat.

I don't know what is happening with my brain chemically. I suspect that the latest meds I'm trying are simply not working. I am extremely agitated, unable to sleep, concentrate or remember things, in addition to the very low mood.

I am grateful for the many comments, emails, tweets and text messages that you have sent me. They have helped to spark my rational mind into action and I have managed to think through my situation and make some plans.

You have also provided me with lots of valuable information about alternatives to hospitalisation. I don't hide the fact that I have (voluntarily) been hospitalised for depression several times. It is a last resort option for me when I am not coping with life and the major reason I keep my private health insurance despite financial hardship.

I often long for the hospital ward. The absence of responsibility. The routine. The regular psychiatric care. The group therapy. Even the food - because it is not cooked by me.

I don't think it is a viable option for me right now. Regardless of my mental state, as long as I am not harming my children, they are better off with me than in foster care. So I need to keep that in mind as I work out what to do.

Thankfully, there are other options, including outpatient programs in psychiatric hospitals. The trick is, that to access these, one usually needs a referral from a psychiatrist, which is not something that can be obtained quickly. However, I now do have a referral to one, as well as new meds.

The upside to all this (and there is always an upside) is that I've been able to channel the dreadful agitation and anxiety into some constructive tasks:

my shower has never been cleaner,
ditto for all the floors,
re-arranging furniture in the family room, making it into a much more inviting space,
de-computerising the kids "study", giving me greater control over their screen time,
spending a lot of time drawing, alone and with the kids,
going to the movies to see "Happy Feet Two" (which made me cry),
spending Sunday watching DVDs that did not include action heroes,
lots of opportunities to practice a bunch of breathing and mediation techniques to try to calm myself down,
teaching the kids how to play with the kittens,
really questioning my thought patterns and realising that I need to do more "work" on my mind.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring. Times like these make it really hard to think beyond the next minute. You have no choice, but to stay in the present moment, as unpleasant and terrifying as it might be. The mind is filled with the buzzing of a thousand bees, so you just try to take the next step. And the next.

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I'm a hard bitch

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 06:46:00 +0000

It's hard to admit to yourself that one of your ex's parting salvos, "You don't have any friends", is true. There is no-one. I know lots of people, I catch up with a few of them, but there is no-one to turn to when I need help.

Wait, there are one or two, who I know could help with minor situations, like school and childcare pick-ups, but no-one to talk to or help when things fall to pieces.

Today I was contemplating my options about what to do with the children, because I no longer felt able to care for them adequately. I didn't know whether to go to the police, to the hospital, or to ring Child Protection. My mind was a viscous, sticky fog. I thought maybe I could hire a nanny to look after them, particularly if I needed to go into hospital.

Because there is no-one.

Things started so promisingly when we first moved to this area. I met lots of mums through a PND support group and playgroup. Then I met lots of people when my oldest boy went to school. He even was getting invited over for playdates and sleepovers.

Then my ex decided he'd rather be with one of the other mums, who had already left her husband in preparation and the whole wicked game of lies, deception and accusations began. At the end of it, I had no friends. Not even the ones I had met through playgroup.

I think there is something genetically wrong with me. I know there are lots of things psychologically wrong with me. I am unable to make and keep friends. Perhaps I just don't know how. Although I've read lots on the subject and tried lots of the strategies, it just ain't happening.

As people get to know me, they move away. I'm usually the one that tries to pursue the friendship, but I guess they're just not that "into me". People may think I'm aloof, because I'm shy. Or perhaps I don't give the right social cues.

People also say that I'm "hard". Perhaps because I have no sympathy for the petty insecurities and problems in their lives. Or their reluctance to take action on the big problems. I know it's all relative, but complaining that you never have any time because you are always driving your children to all their after-school activities, is petty, when all you need to do is stop.

Yes, I'm hard. I'm a hard bitch with no friends.

If you don't hear from me, it's because I'm in hospital. And my children are probably in foster care.

How to stop violence against women

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 01:10:00 +0000

Hello Readers!
While I try to get myself from under the Depression rock, please take a few minutes to read this guest post by ActionAid and consider what YOU can do to stop violence against women around the world.

On the 25th of November, Australia celebrated White Ribbon Day.

White Ribbon Day raises awareness about violence against women and encourages men to pledge that they will never commit, excuse or stay silent about violence against women.

While the day has passed, violence against women remains a prolific issue around the world.

Laws and policies in countries such as Australia may not be perfect, but they do offer women some protection from violence. This, unfortunately, is not the case in many other countries around the world.

In many nations across Africa and Asia, discrimination against women is entrenched in laws, policy, traditions and cultures. These bolster a power imbalance between men and women and allow violence against women in many forms.

From practices of female genital mutilation, to forced abortions, to rape as a weapon of war, many forms of physical and sexual violence against women are used to reinforce power over women, in nations such as the Democratic Republic of Congo, Burundi and Sierra Leone.

Even where national laws prohibit such violence, cultural norms and customary law allow these practices to continue.

So how do we stop violence against women?

Whether it happens in Australia or overseas, violence against women is an abuse of human rights. ActionAid Australia is just one organisation that is fighting to stop violence against women.

In the Democratic Republic of Congo, for example, ActionAid’s teams are helping thousands of women who are victims of horrific gang rape as the conflict continues.

ActionAid offers medical care and trauma healing, as well as the support they need to be reaccepted by their husbands, families and society.

Such initiatives are vital in creating awareness of the issues and educating people at a grassroots level that violence against women is not OK and must stop. It is also an important way of empowering women to be the agents of change that they want to see.

But change is also needed at government (both local and national) levels. Blatant discriminations in law and policy perpetuate attitudes and the incidence of violence against women. Leaders, policy makers and government officials need to offer women the protection and rights they are entitled to.

There are a number of ways that you can help change attitudes and behaviour towards women. Grassroots initiatives to help empower and support female victims rely on charity donations, and every dollar counts.

You can also show support by helping to raise awareness of these issues.

Other aid initiatives, such as sponsor a child programs help to ensure that young girls are educated, empowered and get the head start they need in life.

Violence against women occurs around the world, but it’s time to bring it to an end. Help do your part to stop violence, and support initiatives to empower women and secure their basic human rights.

The Depression

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 12:43:00 +0000

I sit here, at the computer.
Finding more and more things to read, to look at.
Anything to prolong this time alone.
Anything to prevent tomorrow from coming.

I'm hiding from something.
It's possible I'm hiding from grief, from sadness, from loneliness.
Whenever I venture into the world, I see how unwelcoming it is.
I see how perfectly well it gets along without me.

I feel like a leper.
Everyone pushed away by my disease.
The disease being me.
My very being.

I don't know how to be different.
Being alone has never been healthy for me.
I only feel alive when I'm part of someone else's life.
But I don't welcome anyone into my life.

Not any more.

I hide. I skulk and scurry.
I keep my head down, avoiding eye contact.
That's when I get out of the house.
Mostly, there is nowhere to go.

The depression is hammering at me.
Pressing me down into the dirt.
Flattening me with its weight and blackness.
Burying me alive.

Suddenly, it hits me.
I hang my head, burying my face in my hands.
Without the kids I have no purpose.
If they're not around, I am nothing.

And yet, as a mother, I'll win no prizes.
I don't know how happy they are.
The fighting, the yelling, makes me think not all is well in their world.
Even though everyone says that's what brothers do....

As I contemplate them being elsewhere, the pain is unbearable.
The grief would swallow me up.
I may hate being a mother, but I don't know how to be anything else.
Nothing else has any meaning.

My kids keep me alive.
I'm not sure that's good enough.
In fact, I'm pretty sure it's not.
But right now that's all I've got.

Please be assured that I am under the care of a very good GP and psychologist. I am taking medication. My kids are safe and well. I need to write this stuff out to make sense of my life.

I married a chameleon

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 04:01:00 +0000

You told me the same lies you now tell her.

You said you wanted different things then, you didn't want the simple life. You wanted stuff, you wanted money, you wanted the bright city lights, excitement.

You made everyone around us believe that you were happy, that your life was complete.

How easily and quickly you change. Like a chameleon, eager to fit into its new surroundings, to escape the danger of being found out.

I look at you now and I wonder. How did this happen? Why did this happen? Where was this person back then? Why was adultery and crime the best way to escape the life that "made you happy"?

Am I really that horrid a person that such drastic action was needed to escape? If I was so horrid why did you marry me?

Perhaps I really am crazy? Insane?

Perhaps I did this to myself?

Why do I torture myself this way?

Then I remember. People like you cannot be judged using standard norms of human behaviour. People like you can make anyone believe what they like. Even that we're crazy, worthless and pathetic.

Intellectually, I know this, but my heart cannot stop asking, "Why?"

My New Year's Eve staycation

noreply@blogger.com (Dorothy Krajewski) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 02:19:00 +0000

My mother granted me a respite for New Year's Eve. She offered to take the boys not for one, not for two, but for three nights! Nevertheless, I compromised and we agreed on two, as I figure nobody deserves that kind of punishment, especially in the very hot conditions we're currently experiencing.

And you know what? I did nothing....! Well, I might have vacuumed and put the dishwasher on. I also bought some essential supplies, including Pringles (what is it about Pringles?!), corn chips, salsa and champagne. My mother kindly provided the cheesecake.

But after that there was not much of anything being done. As New Year's Eve dawned to the sounds of kittens scratching at upholstery, I couldn't even bother getting dressed. I took painkillers for the mysterious headache, played on the computer for a while and fell asleep (in bed, not at the computer...)

I woke up to stifling heat and was forced to get up and bring a fan into my bedroom. Then I set myself up with the fan, the laptop, the TV and a tray of "room service".

It was then that I was forced to watch "One Tree Hill" and "7th Heaven", but the less said about that, the better.

As the stifling hot day turned into a balmy evening and night, my headache went away and I began waking up (how does that work exactly?)

I watched lots of ABC TV, I blogged, I faffed around on Facebook, I played some computer games. I relaxed. I pretended I was a in a posh hotel somewhere far away. The kittens amused and annoyed me in turns, especially as they decided that the walk from my bedroom to their litter box was far too long and left me little smelly presents in room corners.

I drank champagne with raspberries. I ate cheesecake. I watched fireworks on TV.

The New Year arrived. Quietly. Even though others made attempts to make it loud and pompous, for me it sneaked in quietly.

Some time around 1 am I finally fell asleep.

This morning, the world looked exactly the same.

I actually showered and got dressed today. I am still faffing around. But that's what stay-cations are all about, right?

Happy New Year, everyone!