We Will Remember Them

According to Wikipedia, Anzac Day is a national day of remembrance in Australia and New Zealand that broadly commemorates all Australians and New Zealanders "who served and died in all wars, conflicts, and peacekeeping operations" and "the contribution and suffering of all those who have served". While I was a kid I was acutely aware of ANZAC Day, thanks to having a Grandfather who was the President of our local RSL. We used to call him the Grand Poobah.

My grandfather was the absolute best man I have ever met. For as long as I can remember he was funny and caring, always treating us kids differently, but with no less love for one than the other. He acknowledged our differences and worked with those in the way he played with us. He could be stern, don't get me wrong. If you were too noisy during the News or while he watched is NRL, but the rest of the time he would join in on the fun with us, all while treating both his wife and my mother with the utmost respect. In fact I always swore that one day I would grow up and meet a man like my grandfather and that would be when I knew I'd found the one.

Each year my grandfather would lead the ANZAC Day and Remembrance Day services at our local primary school. He would speak about the War and what it meant. He would speak of the sacrifices the men and women of our country made so that we could live our life with the freedom we have today. I stood tall, spoke clearly, but even as a kid I could hear the undertone of sadness in his voice. This man had lived some shitty experiences to have these kinds of tales. Yet here he stands, speaking to the children in our local area, telling them about the story of the ANZACs and a child-friendly version of what they had to endure.

It wasn't until I got older that I heard the full story of what he had to go through. I haven't asked for permission to tell that side of his story today, however I can say that he suffered immensely as a result. He was given a DVA pension for the PTSD he suffered as a result of what he had to do and see. It was a battle, mind you. He was rejected many times over and had to reapply in ways that ticked all of the right boxes for the Government official to put their APPROVED stamp on it. Seriously, could they not just sit down with these men and women, have a conversation with them, have them meet with a psychiatrist and then just approve it from there? Do we need to reject claims based on administrative errors?

My grandfather lived to the ripe old age of 80. He had a fantastic 80th birthday, surrounded by friends and family. He had been sick for quite some time so we were acutely aware that this could be his last. And we were right. A few short months later he died. He was on life support for a few days, but that was mostly so that his wife and daughters would have the chance to say goodbye.

I miss this man terribly. The memory of him slips in to my mind at the most random of times. None moreso then ANZAC Day and Remembrance Day. So while I do respect the service of the tens of thousands of other men and women who have enlisted in our military, today I mostly think of my grandfather, and how grateful I am that he made it home.

Home Again Jiggidy Jig

Well, ladies and gentlemen , I am back home!!! It hasn't been an easy time, but I'm getting there. It isn't easy coming from a controlled environment to one that is full of teenagers, a baby, a dog, and three cats. There was so much boy mess, and my senses were on overload. However Husbfriend has done an amazing job of looking after everything in my absence. Couldn't fault him, and wouldn't want to any way. Although the dog did need washing this morning. Smells better now.

The biggest thing I have found since leaving hospital is that a lot of what I brushed off as something else is actually anxiety. I can't take valium forever, so I have started vaping. No nicotine included. Just a vape with something sweet to curb my taste for sweet things. It helps me concentrate on my breathing. I'm a shallow breather naturally, so therefore my oxygen saturation always freaks people out. This is helping with that too. I understand that people will consider this silly, but considering after 10 years I was still tempted to ask for a cigarette this seemed like a better option.

My littlest man had swimming lessons yesterday. Honestly it is one of my most favourite parts of the week. We get to spend some precious time together and he has an absolute blast. This week my beautiful boy levelled up. He is now in Baby Group 3 and I'm super proud. What a way to end a shitty few weeks.

So this week is gonna be a big one. I started with washing the dog this morning, then off for an MRI later in the day (you know people are worried when they squeeze you in on a Sunday day). On Monday I see the spine surgeon and my psychologist, Tuesday my psychiatrist, Thursday I have an appt at Ipswich hospital for preadmission, and Friday. So much for taking it easy.

What do you have on to keep you busy this week?

Therapy Begins

It has been a shit couple of days. Not because of the facility, it is because of my illness. My head has been taking me to some dark places and it really hasn't been nice. But I'm doing ok. Please don't worry. Lol I just accidentally typed dong instead of don't. See! I'm fine.

The Cognitive Behaviour Therapy has been interesting. We have discussed how the brain processes "worry". We have talked about depression and anxiety, the what when where how. It has been great information​, but the introspection afterwards can be rough. I've cried, hated myself, thought about how much of a burden I am, how much of a failure I am, how I wish I could just die. Thankfully I had my wonderful my here who looked after me, stood with me while I had a shower and washed my back. He let me know that things were ok.

I started some new medication last night to help me sleep. It was so good to actually have a good few solid hours of sleep. Sleep is so amazing because you can do it in your PJs, but having dreams can go either way. Unfortunately I woke this morning after a horrible dream and found myself in a mini panic attack. The realisation that it was just a dream helped bring me back down.

The food has been good. The coffee has been fine. Well the stuff I buy has been fine. The shit they provide is so darn awful that it makes me sad when I see people drink it.

Anyway just a little update for you all. Hopefully I will have some positive news to share next week ❤️

By My Own Admission

I've had mental health issues since I was around 15 years old. I have struggled with depression and anxiety, signs of PTSD, and suicidal ideations. I have taken more medications that you can poke a stick at, and seen more therapists than I have fingers. Yet here I am almost 26 years later still struggling with the black dog.

Today I took the plunge and did something I've needed to do for a long time. I checked in to a private psychiatric hospital as an inpatient. There is a reason why I have done this now, and I will talk about that some other time. For now I want to talk about what my first day has been like.

I received a call this morning advising me that I needed to be here at 1pm. What the fuck! I thought I was going to be admitted on Tues or Weds. I don't have enough clean clothes! Ezra had gone to his Family Day Carer and I didn't get to say a proper goodbye! Cue internal meltdown. I still managed to get my stuff packed and buy myself some new pyjamas while Trent (my husbfriend) toddled off and bought me a freaking Nintendo Switch. Fuck yes! He wins best human of the year award.

We arrived here just after 1pm and waited for someone to come take me to my room and show me around. And waited. And waited. Eventually the nurse showed up and took me to my room to fill out forms before she took me for a tour. So I filled them out and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally a friend of mine with some experience here had popped in to see me so she gave me the tour. Hooray!

I got to meet the psychiatrist who I will be treated by. He seems really nice and has super clear handwriting, so I'm not sure that he actually is a doctor. I might need to check his credentials next time to make sure he isn't another patient who is delusional, who just thinks he is a doctor.

Dinner time came and went. There is a cute little buffet which the nurse told me was a more upmarket version of Sizzler. There was a distinct lack of cheesy toast so I have decided that she is either a liar or fucking delusional :D But seriously the food is pretty decent and there is also a cafe here so here's hoping they make a decent cup of coffee in the morning. Otherwise I will likely end up on the section with the padded cells.

All in all, my first experience here has been pretty good. I have a roomie who is nice and pretty much does her own thing. The psychiatrist told me that I am looking at a minimum of two weeks here. I will be chilling out, doing some group therapy, taking part is an exercise program and making sweet arse art projects. Just waiting for Angelina Jolie to swing by soon to take me on some crazy night time adventure like in Girl, Interrupted.

Good night lovers ❤️