Tag Archives: Siblings

A Quiet, Polite Girl



Like any normal human, I have ‘baggage’.


‘Issues’ from my past that crop up from time to time, affecting my present life. Although it is true, that I have made more of an effort than most (especially in my family) to reconcile myself with painful elements of my younger years, in truth, I am actually crap at this whole ‘Life’ thing.

You see I was of the Generation that . . . . .
. . . was brought up to never say “No” to an adult, to keep quiet when being scolded, to just accept mistakes made by others (including food orders at a restaurant), to never whinge and to always offer to help others even if it came at a personal cost.

I also grew up in a fairly religious and socially narrow household. I was brought up to believe that I HAD to wear my long hair ‘up’ (in a ponytail) except when you went to church (as opposed to school, going to a friend’s or to a birthday party), that wearing makeup before you were 18 made you a harlet, that popular music was anti-christian (and was definitely forbidden on Sundays), that kissing boys led to sex, and that sex was a dirty and painful business.

Even more acutely, as the eldest of four children I had a unique set of expectations put upon me, like; keep the younger ones safe, if the younger ones are naughty – I get in trouble, I had to lead by example, the ‘rules’ were toughest on me (as the first) and, I had to mature the quickest.

By the age of nineteen I was aware that my family life was pretty skewed and having lived through some fairly violent behaviour from our brother, the estrangement from our narcissistic father, bouts of depression + alcoholism + an attempted suicide by our mother (on the eve of my nineteenth birthday), and pretty severe poverty – my sisters and I were in bad shape.

And the tragedy is – from 1989, when I turned nineteen & my sisters were eighteen & sixteen – my two sisters and I all had to forge a life. A life based on a lot of pain and disassociation. The friendships and romantic relationships we made from that point, are what guided us to be the women we are today. Like every other person walking this Earth, some of those connections were pretty awful. And they had longterm repercussions.

I personally think that both my sisters have ‘issues’ that they are not able to face let alone deal with – but that’s life.
Isn’t it?!?

As 2014 comes to a close, despite the one thousand stories and one million thoughts that I still want to document and share, I am choosing a new direction for my life.

I will be saying “No” & “Fuck Off” a lot more often.
To all the negatives and all the bullies and to all of the elements of this world that have in the past, sucked the lifeblood from my soul, to the “Might over Right” mentality that we live amongst – I am saying “Fuck right off!!!”.

I will be prioritising my health and my happiness.
My little Purple Paper House will become my number two goal.

And after that?
I don’t know.

But I am full of intention to use the second half of my life, to be filled with Joy and the Wonder I once had oozing from me. I will find a way to make my Dreams come true.


%22Roar%22 Quote












I realised two very important things during this past week.

  1. I am Broken – Humpty Dumpty broken
  2. There is a glimmer of hope in knowing how ‘unfair’ the world is, and yet still building a life worth living.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

There is a state that all Mammals are affected by called ‘imprinting’. It is a psychological affect that simply means: meaningful relationships ‘imprint’ certain behavioural expectations for future relationships. Our earliest relationships, i.e. our parents, leave the strongest imprint.

Neither of my parents are particularly great role models. Their behaviour as nuturers is far from favourable.

Now, I have never nor will I ever, blame my parents for how I turned out. Purely and simply – it’s just not helpful. It won’t heal me or help me move forward.

But if I’m being honest with myself, both my parents were terrible Parents. Narcissism was entrenched in both of their psyches, they both drank heavily, they blamed others for their situations in life, they both believed that they were ‘innocents’ being taken advantage of by others and both of them were terrible with money. And they had four children in the space of three years (twins in the middle).

All four of us kids suffered different mental trauma from our parents’ decision making. As I’ve said – I don’t blame them or necessarily hold them accountable. I do however believe that being exposed to two very selfish adults as our first role models, was always going to cause havoc to our growth as healthy human beings.

And it did.

I have been especially conscientious in trying to discover who my Mother was and where she came from. I have been back to her homeland, South Africa, eight times. My siblings have only been twice and once respective to their age, when we all travelled with Mum in our childhoods. My Father refused to ever go with her. In my adult years I attempted to have written relationships via letter and then email, with my cousins and second cousins. I spent time staying with my Mum’s best friend and both of her elder brothers and their wives.

I listened to stories that were full of equal amounts of fact and bias. One of my Tannies (Aunts), couldn’t wait to tell me how selfish my Mum was, when she got  a job as an air hostess and left South Africa in her mid 20’s. Apparently abandoning her parents in the process. Over the years in between and since my visits, I have been able to put together a very accurate picture of my Mother and where she came from. It was a stifling and emotionless upbringing and it’s little wonder that she wanted to escape.

If only she had learnt from all of this experience.

My Father is another another story altogether. I’ll keep it short by saying – he was/is Gay, had a Mother who favoured him and who disliked men (although she had three husbands), has no relationship with any of his three siblings, had no relationship (at all) with his Father, was flamboyant and very social and couldn’t hold down any job for more than two years.

A Role Model of Stability, wouldn’t you say?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Yesterday one of the few girlfriends that I still allow a relationship with, H, dropped by with a healthy Subway lunch. Despite being utterly flat out in her own busy life, she scrounged the hour to come and see me.

We barely had half an hour of quick ‘what’s happened this week’ exchanges, when an elderly ex-customer from my Purple Paper House days came to the front door.

Now I’m not proud to admit this, but FUCK! – I just wanted an hour with my friend without interruption – so we both just sat still and silent pretending noone was home.

This didn’t deter her!

She went around the back of my property and came in the back door. Fuck!

No hiding now.

So she came in and interrupted our afternoon and talked about herself , etc etc. H of course had to leave (school pickup) and so I was stuck. I’m a really crap liar so I couldn’t find a way to extricate myself from the situation 😦

In the end I just subjugated to her presence, got her a glass of water and offered her a seat. I listened to an hour of her and her husband’s health problems, her son’s love life and money woes, etc, etc. Then, without warning, she turned the conversation onto me and my love life (or lack of) asking where my boyfriend from two year sago was, where my other two (dead) dogs were, was I working, what about my family?

I wasn’t prepared for the constant peppering of questions, and subsequently became ’emotional’. Eventually I blurted out that my life sucked and I was only alive because I had to be.

She then proceeded to apologise, exclaim that it was unfair for me to have to stay alive because others said I had to and finally asked me what manner I had planned to use in case of suicide !!!

I then got a twenty minute run down of the safest ways to kill myself, that were painless and trauma-less (for me assumably). She gave me three solutions of suicide saying a number of time, “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but . . . “. I was also told that I could contact Dr Nietchke but would have to lie about being depressed and possibly my age as well.

I honestly didn’t know what to say. I was dumbstruck!

After she’d been here an hour, she decided to leave.
I felt like crawling into bed and never getting up again.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

When you drop a raw egg, it’s not just the shell that breaks.

As the shards of the shell come to rest after a breakage, the real chaos and destruction becomes evident. The life-force of the egg, the yolk, is now compromised. It cannot be ‘put back together again’.

Despite decades of research, therapy and effort I now realise that I have been concentrating my efforts on putting back together my shell. The outer casing that is presumed to be the whole of the entity. I didn’t even think of the yolk.

And I’ve realised this truth, too late!



In my formative years,
I was brought up in a family of four females
(including myself).
I had no males in my life to speak of. ***
No cousins, father, uncles, grandfather, boyfriends or family friends.

My mother inadvertently
(another conversation for another time)
taught me to dislike men.
I mean, REALLY despise them.

Now, I was intelligent enough to know what was happening,
but when you have no means of escape or counter-attack,
it’s pretty difficult to avoid some of the poison
from saturating your psyche.

I tried SO hard to keep an open mind,
and try to learn healthy practice.
it was difficult because
I had virtually NOWHERE from which to garner more sane attitudes.

But this is not the greatest problem I faced
in becoming a woman.

My greatest struggle
was the labels I received from my family.

When I was 19, before I’d even had sex for the first time,
one of the women in my family (“B2”),
called me a whore.

And she meant it!
She was furious that I had a boyfriend (my first).

By the time I was 26 another woman (“B1”) in my family
– remember, there’s only three of them –
was calling me a slut
to anyone who listened.

I remember once we were at a party with a LOT of cute guys.
I was single and about to head overseas for 12 months.
Despite having had two boyfriends prior to this,
I was still VERY green
when it came to men.

For the record – I HAD experienced a couple of
out-of-relationship sexual experiences.
But we’re not talking more than I could count on one hand!

“B1” spent a good hour ‘priming’ me,
saying that one of the cute guys
(and quite a catch to be honest)
had been eyeing me off . . . intently.

I honestly can’t remember how it all came about,
I wasn’t drunk or anything,
however the seriously cute and popular guy & I,
eventually hooked up
(yep I’m not proud, but it was fun!).

Only a couple of hours later,
“B1” gleefully told me
in front of a group of people,
that she knew I would . . .
. . . “fuck him, ’cause you’re such a slut”.

To this day,
the utter devastation is still tangible;
that someone I loved
was at such ease
in treating me with malice, contempt and disrespect.

So I have spent my adult years
trying to counter-balance
the person I was raised to believe I was,
with the reality of who I believe I actually am.

And I can tell you,
While I may have a very healthy sex drive;
I am NOT a whore! +++

Click on photo :)

Click on photo : )

*** I want to clarify that I DID have a brother, but he was in and out of my life from when I was ten. He was 18 months younger than me. He committed suicide when I was 29. He was 27.

+++ Do you know what?
It totally SHITS me that ‘whore’ is even used as an offensive term.
It’s so SEXIST.
I think I feel another blog post coming on . . . 




Ever So Hard + Possibility


It is very easy at this transition from an old (expired) year
into a new (fresh) year,
to feel tangible sense of possibility.

. . . . . . . . . . SHIT!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . That’s it.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . My word for 2013!




Seriously – it just came to me as I typed.

I was watching the Sydney NYE fireworks (on tv)
and instead of feeling isolated, lonely and dejected
I felt . . . well, I felt hopeful.

I felt like I needed to shake off 20 years of living (unaccepted) in rural W.A.
being the ‘weirdo’,
completely outside of all the ‘normal’ groups
need to


And look at t this

TO Move


Bring it on!!!!


I know that my Depression is speaking very loudly at the mo.

How can it not?

I am being a dutiful daughter, my simple Christmas evaporated, my sisters continue to be . . well, themselves, I still have not been able to start my new career, so I have very few $ at hand,
I have had a truly shitty twelve months.

But – to top it all off . . . I have also been struggling with a letter in my mind.
A letter I have been trying to scribe for months to include with my handmade Chrismtas cards
(cards that were accidentally destroyed by a glass of water by a friend).

The letter in question
has been mentally compiled
and then discarded
throughout the day,
every day
for the past three months.

The words and sentences and paragraphs come eloquently to my mind,
however as soon as I try to sit and write them – they disappear!

So I try ever so hard to start again.

And my inability to publish it is causing a cancer.


Berserk Bjork


One of the very few happy memories I have with my family is this song.

It has to do with one of my sisters who for a few short but cherished years was my closest confident. But like everyone in my family – she has a mental illness which she refuses to acknowledge, therefore we longer have any sort of relationship.

I was recently ‘banned’ from her life during a phone conversation.

So whenever I hear this song, I am reminded of a different time.
A truly happy time.

It makes me glow on the inside when I hear it.

I am so tired


of being the only sane adult in my family.

Seriously why would my sister – who happens to be studying for her Doctorate in Psychology – tell my Mum what I had written in a text message? Especially when it could be seen as undermining?

Why is my Mum now saying that she wasn’t trying to commit suicide?

Why hasn’t my other sister tried to contact us about the incident, when she has been notified?

Why does this keep happening?

Big Enough


I came across this tweet today . . .


Big Enough


. . . . and it made me realise that the bullies didn’t win when they took away my job.

They won when I stopped blogging!

And in reality, I need this blog more than I need that job.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Yesterday my Mum attempted suicide.

She didn’t mean it of course, she was just indulging in self pity.
She’s done it before.

This time it was seven days before Christmas,
last time it was the night before my 19th birthday.

I feel very tired of having to deal with her dramas.
It’s exhausting.

I tried so hard this year to help her through rehab.
I spent money I didn’t have and time I couldn’t afford,
driving two and a half hours to see her and visit her in hospital.
I rang her a minimum of once a day.
I cleaned her flat and did all her gardening.

Even when she fell off the wagon and lied to me about it,
I still supported her and remained non-judgemental.

She REFUSED to tell any of her family and friends and
she refused to ask either of my other sisters to support her.

It was all up to me.

And it was fucking exhausting.

And now – she needs me AGAIN and I am so tired.