If Love Were Enough…

I had a chat with the other half this morning – that ended up in a deeper conversation than either of us meant it to. I find that I’m often talking and he’s often lost. We’re talking more about the importance of both sides having a say and it’s not healthy to not talk about how you’re feeling… if something is upsetting you in relation to anything – voice it – lets talk about it. That’s what a healthy relationship is. He struggles with voicing his opinion because he feels what he has to say isn’t valid – not because I’m making him feel that way – I want more than anything to hear his opinion on everything – always.

After the chats – I sat and reminisced over the days where I used to spend long wily summers lazing about in the fields on Dunbrody with a good book – reading words poured onto pages of authors gone by – transporting my hopeful little mind to places beyond the humdrum meandering existence that was my life…

Places where love conquered all – no matter what – any problem – slap a bitta love on it – be graaand…

Not a fucking modicum of a hint of the childhood trauma that both parties drag into the relationship that would be at times haranguing your relationship and the constant work that needed to be done in order to keep it functional. No. Love was enough. It filled my heart with so much joy knowing that someday – I would find my someone – to love me in these fanciful ways… without any of that trauma bullshit.

Then I grew up. Traumatised. And began relationships with many other traumatised individuals. And just like that – my bubble burst.

Which one was I? The emotionally unavailable avoidant. Took years of therapy but I got there in the end and now and now am so emotionally available it terrifies people.

Over the years I have found love like no other – it lifted me up in ways I never imagined – it also nicely lined the therapists pockets with each whimsical – heart trodden downfall. I’m convinced he could sense it in the end – the therapist. I had a certain walk through the gloomy waiting area into his office each time. The kinda walk that said “yes – I was that fucking naive again – please don’t make me feel like a bigger eejit than I already do” – he could tell my mortification from the purposely dodged eye contact for the first ten minutes of every session – until he asked me a question that made my eyes snap to his with disbelief – for the rest of the session I offloaded enough examples of red flags that I began to ask myself “what the fuck is wrong with me… you saw them – those big waving crimson bad boys – jaysis some of them even gave you big flashing neon signs and yet you walked up right up to that mother fucker like it was a circus!’

The resounding favourite that seems to land at my door like flies on shit – The Mammy Issues – not tarring all mammies with the same brush but theres a decent chunk if we’re honest every female has dated a mammy issues man at some stage in her life – some woman overcompensated for her over-privileged male offspring. Didn’t have to do much of a tap in his life the crater – she has more interference in his life than she does her own husband… he is either coddled or neglected to within an inch of his life – either way – she has far more control than she should or is healthy and absolutely feels it’s her birth right to dictate in his adulthood how he should handle his affairs. He’s never asked how he’s feeling – he’s just told what to do any complies. And then you find yourself swept up in the honeymoon phase so you don’t notice these red flags so much. Who am I kidding – you notice them but you choose to ignore trusting that she’ll fuck off once she knows he’s in a settled relationship. But she doesn’t.

She mourns him like she’s losing a boyfriend. And you’ll forever be “that bitch” who took her little boy away. The little boy that she leaned on far too much and now has emotionally damaged all because her husband wasn’t meeting her emotional needs. Now he can’t meet his partners emotional needs because he’s trying to find a way to cope in life because coping skills were one thing he’s rarely been taught.

The Narcissist – sure he love bombs the life out of you completely to the point you think there’s nothing like it! Jesus THIS is the man for ME! He adores me! Until he doesn’t – heaven forbid you should wear that top or rock up ten minutes late when you said you’d be home by 6. Cohersive control, emotional manipulation, mental abuse, gaslighting – their repertoire is endless but you can be sure by the end of this one you’ll be left questioning every little thing you ever did and if you did anything different would he have gotten as mad? Yes. He would. There’s not one thing that you could’ve done that he would not have find fault with

The Emotionally Unavailable – well you can talk to these boys til you’re blue in the face – they’ll still sit there glazed over like you’ve put them into a state of hypnosis with your drivel. They don’t know what to say in response mostly due to years of conditioning of not being given a voice or not feeling heard. Big boys don’t cry! Well… yes… they do. And we love when they do. We love a man with a heart! One that you can talk to and who gets it when you’re feeling blue.

I am also a Mammy of boys and a girl. And my goal is now with the boys is to talk – to get them to discuss emotions as much as is possible and not to coddle – to step back and let them take responsibility for themselves where possible. Do they still take the piss? Of course they do.

But one thing we need to acknowledge is that how we raise our children and how we choose to interfere in their lives as adults – profoundly impacts their development and their behaviour in their personal relationships. As parents we all fuck up – but if you choose to continue to expose your kid to a household where mam and dad are constantly battling and shouting and manipulating – you cannot be surprised if your kid has difficulties with relationships in later life.

What you expose your vulnerable adults to helps form the foundation of their emotional stability. As parents we are a huge part of the fuck up

If love was enough we could fix all of the trauma and we could all have healthy non toxic relationships where people continued to flourish and support one another. But it’s not.

Love and therapy and conscious parents and non toxic families… that’s what’s enough…

You need to begin working on yourself.

And just incase none of your childhood reads informed you of this ground breaking revelation – like they failed to inform me.

At the bare minimum – love and therapy and a good dose of boundaries – is enough.

Acknowledging it is the first step…

We’re all a little fucked.

The Other Woman

What do you do when you fall in love with someone who isn’t yours to have?

We often hear about people being cheated on – but we rarely get an inside view as to what it is to be ‘the other woman’ – the homewrecker – the bitch that wrecked that family. In some instances the negativity thrown may seem justified. To be the other woman is to fall from grace, from self-respect – to hurt in ways few could comprehend.

I met a man – quite a bit older than myself. He pursued me while I was pregnant – my toddler is now 2. At first it was the pursuit of work – both creative minds with a passion for writing – me more so than himself – he proposed a writing project. Children’s books. I immersed myself into writing – not just for this – but for several other personal projects.

He was kind – caring – considerate.

He came to me again with another work proposal – acting in a piece that he wrote to be performed locally with some other creatives – including his wife. I jumped at the opportunity – pregnant and going through a difficult time in my personal life – it was a welcome distraction.

We continued to meet for coffee and lunch – mostly on his request – rarely mine. I had no attraction to this person at this point beyond a working partnership and what was becoming – a deepening friendship.

The pregnancy progressed – the little one was born and weeks went by where we lost contact. Not really of any concern to me – life was difficult adjusting back to having a newborn. I was barely keeping contact with my closest friends and family. He was definitely bottom of my pile.

He proposed a meeting when the baby was 6 weeks old – and I agreed. We met for a coffee and I found myself talking about ongoing issues in my personal life. Again a proposal for work was made and I was inclined to turn it down because it wasn’t possible with a baby – bring her along he suggested – so I did – and we performed again, with his wife – and again a couple of months later for a separate performance – again with his wife.

He suggested we set up a Studio – it would be a virtual space – for communicating easily on work related issues. He kept messaging suggesting coffee and lunches – where we talked for often hours at time about creative projects and discussing proposals for collaborative ideas.

Then he started bringing gifts – small tokens of appreciation. Some days I found myself feeling inconvenienced by his messages so I would make excuses as to why I wasn’t available to meet.

Then one day it clicked – on his initiation – something changed and we stupidly embarked on an affair.

He had already made clear that he didn’t feel appreciated at home – that he had had several affairs over the lifespan of his marriage. He was going to leave his wife many years ago but the woman he was due to leave her for – left him first. He embarked on a number of affairs after this – each ending in their own way. I pathetically allowed myself to be part of that list.

In the beginning the thrill was overwhelming – a buzz to be chased. We both realized we were falling for one another and at this point he discussed leaving his marriage

For a long time he kept me on a thread – or I kept myself on this thread – allowing him to lie to both of us and his adult children

I would wait for him to arrive only to get a message as to why he couldn’t make it – or another empathically worded apology as to how he understood what I was feeling and he was sorry for hurting me but would always promise that things would change soon.

I spent nights crying myself to sleep trying to work through my confusion and guilt and mornings wishing I could wake up next to him but couldn’t because he was sharing a bed with his wife.

I found myself throwing all of my boundaries out of the window and in place of standing my ground – I sent long messages explaining how I was feeling – why this couldn’t work – how much I was hurting and on the numerous occasions I became so incensed with anger I told him to stay with her. Each time this was met with how much he loved me and how he had made his mind up and that he couldn’t stay with her any longer.

Instead of being honest with her as he said he would – he turned cold – gas-lighting her and making her feel supremely unloved. He kept saying that this was making things easier to end. The truth was something he was never good at facing – instead weaving webs of lies. It got to a point where he was asking me to lie for him to his family if they reached out to ask me anything.

It got to a point where his wife was so upset by his carry-on that she left him. I should’ve done the same. My naivety or stupidity or feeling held me in a position of believing maybe something could materialize out of this. I felt I had a connection with this man that I had never had with anyone else. I was blind to the fact that he was grooming everyone around him to develop a situation that worked best for him. Rather than affording everyone the honesty they deserved so they could make their own choices moving forward.

In these almost two years – I ignored advances from people who were genuinely interested in me – who wanted to date – who wanted a relationship and were genuinely interested in my wellbeing over this person who not only disregarded my wellbeing but those of his own family

I told him many times that I was going to come clean, met by begging and pleading for me not to as it would be too upsetting for everyone involved.

When she left he carried on seeing me – she threatened divorce in what I felt and told him was an attempt to reconcile but he ignored my thoughts and carried on. We had so many conversations where I led him down the path or returning to his marriage to end the torment and lies but each time – he would promise change.

Until it got to a point where his wife begin turning up at my home. Staking out my house. Forcing her way in. Being physical with him outside. I completely understood all of this. If it were me – I would be angry too. Especially if he had chosen to marry me and then chose to leave me for others. I would be incensed, particularly after giving him chance after chance.

She threatened him mercilessly – telling him that she would tell the entire town – exactly the man that he was – going so far as to write him lengthy letters explaining what kind of an abusive man that he was.

His adult children become involved and while one was more rational than the other – the general consensus was that the family should stay together even if that meant they were unhappy.

I was miserable – wanting to leave – not wanting to leave – feeling guilty for his marriage ending and feeling if I asked him to go that he would now be on his own.

I gave him an ultimatum – a deadline. That he had to inform everyone in his family by the end of July that he was now seeing me or that we were done.

He began to panic – wondering what this would mean for his family. We got to the end of July and he still hadn’t committed to being honest.

I brought the conversation up again – that I wasn’t happy. IT was then he admitted that he was too locked into his past and he couldn’t see a way forward without hurting everyone too much. I told him I was taking the time to meet with his wife and inform her of everything and to apologise – so she could be informed moving forward. We ended things in that moment

I made the call with him there – while he pleaded that I didn’t. We agreed to meet that same night. As I dropped him off – I then met with her and we sat for over an hour while I apologized and ran her through every detail of the past almost 2 years.

She thanked me for my honesty – she said she had felt gas-lighted for all of that time and that the only reason she was angry and reacting in the ways that she had – was because she knew that he wasn’t being honest about what was going on. She said she didn’t know if she loved him anymore and that she was seeing someone else who wanted a romantic involvement but she wasn’t so sure if this was something she wanted to pursue.

He chose to attend the anniversary lunch that his daughters had set up for himself and his wife the day after we ended.

We spent one last night together the night of his wedding anniversary and came to an agreement that all of the turmoil had now come to an end. That we would part ways. He hoping for friendship and me recommending that we never speak again.

I spent a couple of weeks in limbo – more disappointed in myself for letting my barriers down to let someone in that was so desperately bad for my mental well-being. Disappointed for the fact that I let myself be ‘the other woman’. Sickened that I had lied to others and to myself – continuously. That I became so desperate that I was hanging onto a man that was comfortable with disrespecting me and every other female he had ever committed to loving while still telling us both that he loved us.

I have healed and learned from my experience through writing a production based on these events that will eventually go to stage. I have forced myself to look inward at what it was that I was lacking in my life that I was willing to accept less than mediocrity. I am filled with regret.

He has returned to living in the family home and in doing so has reaffirmed everything that my gut was screaming at me for the last year of our relationship.

I was ‘the other woman’. I am that bitch. That homewrecker.

In allowing myself to be those things…

I allowed my heart and my mental health to be wounded – deeply.

I have rebuilt.

I am free.

Covid-19 – Lockdown Ireland – Day 22

Day 22

2^nd April 2020

It’s been a while since I’ve published. I began with great intentions to write something every day – but life became such a tumult of sameness that I became disheartened with writing the same things…

Cooked dinner…

Argued…

Toddlered (even a word?)

Cleaned…

While I know the majority of folks are in the same boat – I’ve never coped well with routine.

Something happened yesterday that perked me up, my bestie called for a socially distant visit – she called to the door with her youngest gal with some lovely presents and a beautiful card, that made me feel emotional – and gave me the boot in the arse I needed to be motivated enough to write again.

I’ve been talking to herself a lot about going stir crazy. About the monotony of routine. Shes the person I discuss my deepest and darkest thoughts with. I was reminded yesterday that I don’t always need to be strong, but that I do always need to feel ok with being vulnerable. This is something I completely struggle with. Mainly because growing up Irish is a lot of “keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about…” so it becomes an engrained thing to maintain a stiff upper lip and hold it all together, regardless of what’s going on

My bestie reminds me to be true to who I am, lower the walls and allow myself to breathe… and she has been a life buoy for me during this time – as well as many others…

I hope everyone has someone the lean on – always

I don’t think she realizes that she balances me in ways I lack in balancing myself. Our relationship is one of no holds barred. No matter what we have done, how absolutely mortifying it is – she knows mine and I know hers… it feels like there isn’t much, if anything at all that we don’t converse on

That makes for a friendship that is truly unique – we never judge – or if we do it’s just to poke fun. Of course we have had fall outs – we have bitched and barked at one another – it never lasts long, never more than a few hours before we are back apologizing and reminding each other that ‘I love you bitch…’

Yesterday I was given my motivation back by seeing her little face outside and not being able to give her a squeeze. It made me feel sad to think of all the people who can’t hug right now…

Grandparents, grandkids, kids, parents, couples… the sad reality of this time now is that it’s necessary to maintain physical distance… it’s tough

We’ve reached a point now in Ireland where lockdown was announced last week – it wasn’t given the name ‘lockdown’

But the rules transpired to mean that – we are not to travel outside of 2km from our homes unless it’s for essential travel for groceries, medicines or caring for others that are vulnerable. All non-essential businesses have been closed. A lot of restaurants and takeaways have now closed.

The Gardaí have been given the power to stop and detain people who are compromising these rules

While these measures are stipulations in a totalitarian state – it doesn’t feel like that – for the main goal is to save lives by flattening the curve of Covid 19

The Gov have entered an agreement with the private hospitals to also open to the public, there has been an emergency payment for those who have lost their jobs, put in pace through social welfare to the value of €350 per week – Covid 19 Emergency Pandemic Payment.

Rents haven’t been frozen for some tenants – which I’m sure will develop further issues with homelessness when this is over.

Medtronic Ireland – a global leader in med technology are increasing their production of ventilators and have also agreed to share their design for one of their ventilators in the hopes that other engineers will take it on to develop and increase production in an attempt to save more lives

The community response is amazing – so much goodness has come out of this, people reaching out to help others. The response has been phenomenal from our community with our group Wexford People Helping People

The rise in deaths over the last week has been sobering. From 9 last week to 85 as of today in the Republic of Ireland…

We now have 3,447 confirmed cases

We have a lot of clusters of infection among nursing homes and hospitals – the majority of people who have passed so far are over 70 – a lot with underlying health conditions. While the most vulnerable are being affected greatly. There have also been deaths in otherwise healthy young persons. So it’s impossible to be complacent.

We have gone from 260 ICU beds to 500 and the HSE said they are aiming for 1200… we have the lowest ICU capacities in Europe with only 50 beds per million people… it’s a terrifying thought to wonder what the outcome would be if we developed a scenario like Italy – who are being absolutely hammered with significant rises in cases, lack of equipment and surges in deaths…

I remain hopeful that things will maintain at a stable pace, that we won’t overwhelm the health care system and workers and we don’t lose lives due to the lack of equipment…

 

This can only be done if everyone follows the rules set out by the WHO, CDC and HSE…

Meanwhile in our house – the teens have taken to marathons of online gaming, leaving their pits for food – the toddler however is oblivious to everyone’s suffering and toddlers on…

I at this point wish I could indulge in a giant glass of wine… but can’t due to my ould organs still being in recovery after surgery and organ failure…

So for now I will have to silently seethe with jealously behind a screen watching as my peers indulge in a tipple or three once the kids are in bed to ride out the Covid-19 storm…

Until tomorrow… 🙂

 

 

 

Covid-19 Lockdown Ireland – Day 5

Day 5

The little one slept a bit better last night – but was still up at the crack of dawn. Two year olds seem to have an endless supply of energy. Something I’m jealous of and something I wish that I could tap into.

The kids began journaling today, the younger of the two chaps wasn’t that enthused but the eldest seemed to enjoy discussing it as a project, and began smirking at the possibilities of portrayals of his nutty mother during this time.

We had a generally quiet day, doing nothing of any importance other than scrubbing the place down again.

The usual check of Facebook, Insta, Twitter and the WHO and CDC sites and my anxiety is well and truly set up for the day… I’ve toyed with the idea of not checking the sites but I find I am the type of person that doesn’t cope well if they don’t have the information readily available to them.

DeeDee is back at her slosh pit, on the green chair by the sink – Sky News is playing in the background – reruns of an appeal by the UK Health secretary stating they have 5000 ventilators available to the NHS and appealing to anyone who has an engineering mind to put it to developing new ventilators and the government will purchase them – his quote being ‘no number is too high’

They had 1372 cases in the UK yesterday – Boris Johnson seems to exercising a policy of ‘herd immunity’ meaning that the disease will be allowed to run rampant throughout the country – his attitude being we have to make sacrifices and some people will die for the greater good. Eugenics if you will.

Answered some messages from cases for Wexford People Helping People – it’s alarming how many people who have been temporarily laid off work due to the HSE led shut down are now out of pocket as a result… no doubt this will lead to a substantial spike in rent and mortgage arrears – it would be nice to see the government follow Italy’s lead and suspend all major bills in the interim. Stress is the quickest way to upset your immune system, and all this added pressure is going to really affect those who are having the added financial concerns

We are advised there is no cure or no vaccine for Covid-19 – although a German company are trying to develop a vaccine – Apparently Trump has tried to monopolize on that and has offered large sums of money for exclusive access to the vaccine – but the company has declined

There’s so much fake news going around at the moment, I’m finding myself fact checking things relentlessly

I’m also finding myself exhausted today

We get on with the day as best we can – the odd argument here and there but nothing major. The kids actually made their own food today having declined lunch that I made for myself and DeeDee

We got a big lot of shopping compliments of a friend – while unpacking everything, I turned around to find the Little Fairy DeeDee eating her way through a pack of pears – one nibble per piece of fruit – she’d managed 4 before I noticed – so I tried to talk her down to one. Meltdown.

The kids wanted to order food – I didn’t because I don’t want a delivery driver dropping off at the door. Yet we went ahead and ordered anyway – pizza. The delivery driver called to let us know he had left the boxes stacked outside the front door – I felt relieved that I didn’t have to ask

DeeDee went through a phase of insistently calling ‘Mam, mam, mam, mama, mama, mammy, mammy, mama…’ over and over while myself and the eldest were trying to sort out a glitch with the phone. Every time I turned to say ‘Yes DeeDee’ I was met with a toothy grin and sparkly eyes and another rendition of ‘Mam, mam, mama, mama, mama, mam’ another ‘Yes DeeDee?’

 

Followed by a ‘get down Mam’ – followed by a ‘you get down DeeDee’ followed by a ‘Mam, mam, mama, mammy, mama…’ followed by the eldest sniggering at her absolute brazenness and enjoying my torment. Which only served to egg her on.

DeeDee has gone through a phase today of listening to Billie Eilish’s ‘Bad Guy’ on a loop…

I’m fucking living Ground Hog Day… and I’ve practically washed the skin raw from my hands.

Send Help.

Covid-19 Lockdown – Day 4

Day 4

Today was a little more productive. The kids have engaged in some documentaries and are finally learning new things.

The eldest steam cleaned all the floors in the house with Dettol in return for 6 euro – a bargain really…

DeeDee however undid all his hard work in an impressively short space of time – she has claimed the kitchen sink as her main domain. Water seems to be her thing. And pouring water from one vessel to another. The mess! Feck it – she’s satisfied

Got a message from my cousin – the Uncle’s daughter and call off my Da at noon to tell me my Uncle has passed away after being removed from life support

I had a good long cry – grief, confusion, anger, angst…

All the feelings are coming at me this week – distraction seems to be the best form of defense, so I’ve began writing when I can, most of the day is taken up running around after little miss, cooking, cleaning and arguing with the two elders for the umpteenth time to reiterate all the reasons life cannot continue as normal for the moment

I wish I could be there for my mother but I have to stay housebound – so the best I can do right now is a phone call or text.

Today our team at Wexford People Helping People set up an online community support group on Facebook – to enable those who want to assist in the community, to reach out and aid the most vulnerable and visa versa – people have been really supportive, it’s really heartwarming to see everyone pull together. It’s a necessary effort.

Reading articles on Covid 9 are somewhat reassuring and yet not. My biggest fear is that we have left it too late and too many people will not receive the care they need as a result. When I think about it, I feel angry. Our national and local representatives being reactive rather than proactive and now everyone is in a flap – the borders are still open for travel in and out of affected areas, Ireland now added to the affected areas list

Thinking about the Italy V Ireland rugby game being cancelled and the supporters from the epicenter of Europe still allowed to travel in among the community.

Seeing the stupidity of fellow citizens rubbing shoulders in bars and organizing Covid 19 parties – increasing the level of transmission, putting pressure on our already over stretched system. The recklessness of these decisions and the implications it has for the health care staff and the most vulnerable in the community.

The post of ‘oh don’t worry it’s only the elderly and vulnerable who are at risk’ despite evidence that perfectly healthy people in the 20-40 years age group have required ICU care

In Ireland in November we were already operating at 100% ICU capacity. I know this because I was waiting on life saving surgery in an acute hospital that had to keep postponing because it had no available ICU bed

I could already foresee before any cases were confirmed here the pressure the system would be under

We only have 260 ICU beds in Ireland. We were to increase that capacity to 400 by 2031

We are going to need quadruple those numbers and possibly more in the coming weeks

We are going to be a nation similar to Italy, choosing who can get a ventilator and who can’t

I’m very aware if it came down to 32 year old me with one lung and a rare heart condition who’s been self-isolating and neurotic about cleanliness for me and my family and ensuring the kids aren’t outdoors next to a 32 year old healthy individual who decided to keep partying on in pubs and house parties that they would be given priority, because they have the best chance of survival. It is the correct choice. But one that could be avoided if everyone followed the rules.

I’m finding myself frustrated with the level of misinformation, people posting on social media without fact checking, or gossiping ‘I heard from my neighbour which is a nurse etc.…’ it’s all unhelpful and only feeds to the hysteria

I wish people would remain calm, sensible, level headed and understand that this is a public effort. It’s not rules set out for someone else, it is rules for EVERYONE – by applying these rules to your daily life we may actually ensure that everyone who needs care gets it and that we don’t put frontline workers in a position of choosing who lives and who dies because there are two people and only one ventilator

I have been in a position in December of major organ failure after major surgery – my remaining lung filled with fluid, my heart filled with fluid, my kidneys started to fail, my liver was causing a cytokine storm making my immune system over react and shut things down – by the time I got from my local hospital to the acute hospital 2hrs away in the ambulance, my cardiac output was hardly there, I kept losing consciousness, I was overheating despite having been given Panadol and the paramedic turning on the air conditioning full blast in the back of the ambulance and me stripping down – despite oxygen being on my levels were too low, my blood pressure was too low, my heart rate was too fast, my head felt like it were about to explode, I was gasping for air, I was slowly suffocating and trying to stay calm so as not to make the symptoms worse – the paramedic calmly talking to me about anything else other than what was going on to try and distract me. I knew I was then dying – when I arrived in Dublin I was extremely ill – I was told I was in major organ failure and over the course of the next 5 weeks my medical teams works tirelessly to get me to a stable position

The level of care that went into achieving this was phenomenal. The amount of physical pain that I endured with procedure after procedure and the amount of mental torture was crippling. I could still have visitors which helped.

My teams have advised me that the Coronavirus does exactly the same as I experienced in December to critical cases. It would be a terrible way to go. In the end I was hoping I would die so the pain and struggle for air and terror could stop.

All of you who are taking these risks with your own lives and the lives of others, need to really realize the potential damage you could cause. I was lucky to have the equipment available and care available immediately

I could not imagine being left to die like this with little intervention and a huge part of me hopes that if it comes to that for me or for anyone else who will not make it due to equipment being unavailable – that we are heavily sedated and let slip away peacefully

Now is the time to act on the changes required.

 

Covid-19 Lockdown – Day 3

Day 3

 

Spent the night wide awake worrying about how the Uncle was doing, worrying about my mother and my aunt who were possibly exposed to Covid 19 and worrying about my friend who I had asked to help.

No news back yet even though testing is meant to take 12 hours. The family are advised to ring back at noon.

DeeDee has found her way back to the sink, water being sloshed all over the kitchen – the boys upstairs online

I feel a bit lost today, unsure of what to do or how I can do it – I started a volunteer database last night with our group Wexford People Helping People – asking people to give some time to those who can’t get out and about for supplies at the moment and to source qualified childminders for our frontline workers who are finding things especially difficult with the schools being closed. The response was phenomenal! Such amazing people in the community. So I’m compiling info and building a database, slowly. The necessity for eyes in the back of my head with the toddler is very real. I’d almost forgotten how intense it can be!

My bestie is keeping me sane today – lots of inane conversations but it’s helping to distract while we await the results so we know how things can progress with family and friends. The Uncle isn’t doing well at all and I’ve been advised he’s been moved on to life support – I have a bit of a cry and then pull myself together just in time for the kids to come down and nag…

They aren’t coping with being locked indoors, they want to go to the shop, and I’m not letting that happen. Not only could the bring something home and make me sick, they are also a danger to the staff working in these places. It’s unfair to the workers – I try to explain the reasons why – it falls on deaf ears.

I suggest watching a movie together but am advised that it boooring.

Off they plod back upstairs muttering obscenities.

Fuck it, now is a good time to be in the garden. Myself and DeeDee head out the kick a ball around and to repot some flowers – she’s so full of chat and excitement that it’s refreshing to just forget the worries at the moment and look at the world through her eyes for a little while…

We finally get a call to let us know that the Covid-19 test for the Uncle came back clear – he doesn’t have it but he’s seriously unwell.

I ring my friend to let them know that they can now begin to move outside of their home again…

It’s a bittersweet relief… great that it’s negative but it’s still terrible that they aren’t sure what it is that’s affecting him but they are doing everything they can.

I wish I could hop in the car to head out to help but I know I can’t turn up at the hospital or anywhere too public with this virus. I offer support by way of phone but I’m feeling pretty useless right now.

I opt instead to have a major clear out, I’m regretting it not long after starting it but we plough through, the hallway is full of junk and I begin to wonder why we accumulate so much stuff that we simply don’t need. I feels good to look at the pile that’s ready to go but looking behind me at the remaining mess I need to plough through it soul destroying.

I ask the boys to help – they really don’t want to – that doesn’t stop me insisting and before we know it we’ve descended into meltdown because they’ve been torn away from their online gaming with friends.

If you don’t help I’ll take your PlayStation and your phone for the rest of the evening – in an act of defiance the eldest walks into the room, unplugs the PlayStation, lays his phone on top of it and hands them to me with a ‘here knock yourself out’

With nothing left to lose, I realize he’s pretty much bullet proof, I’m pretty much done with this day.

My mother rocks in mid-argument to drop home more of DeeDee’s stuff and to pick up facemasks and gloves for her and her sisters who are going up to visit the Uncle in hospital.

The Ma attempts to mediate, has a chat with the kids, they give her the same argument, that their lives are ruined, they’ve nothing to do – why can’t they go out to friends. The reasons fall on deaf ears. The Ma decides to give up trying to reason and decides to give me a hand moving some more junk downstairs to go to the dump

I realize I would be lost without this woman. Shes already exhausted from caring for my kids, now worrying about her brother and the last 24hrs of worry waiting on the Covid 19 test to come back

I don’t keep her long and tell her to head off to the hospital – she says goodbye to DeeDee who’s traipsing up and down the stairs – ‘’Love ewww’ says DeeDee, first time she’s said that at all. I’m glad it was to my Ma, it perked her up a bit.

The mess can wait. Bath time and bedtime for the little miss. Mama needs a break!

 

Covid-19 Lockdown Ireland – Day 2

Day 2

So. We had the chat. About the rules.

Leo Varadkar was the arsehole today, not me, a small victory, but I’ll take it!

Things rapidly went downhill when I told them they couldn’t hang out with friends or have friends over – Leo’s arseholery was short lived and I was back on my pedestal of ‘Worst Parent EVER’.

Lads, this is for all of us, if I get sick, I most likely wouldn’t survive it.

This was defeated with a lot of ‘you’re ruining my life’, ‘what if I shower when I come in like we had to do all week’, ‘you don’t care about my mental health’, ‘all the adults are just being selfish’

So I spent some time explaining Covid-19 – what it can do to someone who is vulnerable. This was met with wide eyed horror and a lot of reminders about the tubes and drains coming out of my body on Christmas Day when they came to visit me in hospital after the organ failure.

A lot of acceptance that this was something to try and avoid happening again.

My Ma dropped the baby off today, a big 2 years old and being looked after by Nana and Granda while I was in recovery

Her brother had had an accident and she needed to get off to help – so DeeDee is officially back home!

We needed some shopping, but after the madness of yesterday, we weren’t going to any of the supermarkets to happen upon the same craziness today. We drove out of town to Castlebridge and bought what we needed in the smaller store there. Cormac went in to get what we needed while myself and DeeDee sang renditions of ‘Row Row Row Your Boat’ on repeat.

I wouldn’t say they’ve reformed their opinions. I’ve zero doubt that we will be on a loop of arguments of ‘why can’t I?’ for the foreseeable

But – because they’ve been decent – I decide a KFC is in order as a treat – so we do the drive thru. I’m climbing up the ranks of acceptable parent.

Got a call from the mother to say my Uncle was transferred to hospital in poor condition and help was needed to move his van off the road – so I enlisted the help of a friend to go down to her

The kids are happy online gaming with friends, stuffed with KFC and DeeDee has found her place splashing about in the kitchen sink, the countertops and floors are saturated but she’s happy so I sit and watch, perusing the mess I’ll soon be cleaning once she’s done.

Get a call off the mother mid ‘ Row Row Row Your Boat’ – they’re testing the Uncle for Covid-19 – he’s very unwell – I’m advised to ring the friend I enlisted to help earlier with moving the Uncle’s van and advise them to self-isolate until the results come back from the Covid 19 test tomorrow

Call made – instructions given, half the family in quarantine – it’s going to be a long few weeks

I’m done with today.

 

Covid-19 Lockdown Ireland – Day 1

Day 1

Stood there in the middle of the living room floor watching Taoiseach Leo Varadkar making an emergency announcement from the US at 11am Irish time – Covid-19 was officially announced as a pandemic the day before…

I felt such a sense of relief as he announced the schools and other educational institutions were closing

‘Thank fuck for that…’ I whispered to myself

Major surgery and major organ failure over the Christmas period has left me a nervous wreck. ~To be honest, I know after speaking to my medical teams that I would struggle to survive if I contracted this new virus.

I had spent the previous day on the phone to Tusla, contacting educational officers and the educational Welfare Officer to get permission to remove the kids from school.

 

I thought they’d be thrilled. But no. We have several meltdowns and joint choruses of me ruining their lives because they would no longer have social lives. Welcome to my world kid!

Now, I wasn’t the big bad bitch anymore, it was all Leo’s fault now. He ordered it to happen, blame him! The new found smugness didn’t last long. The youngest was already home from school due to a teacher training day – upstairs on the PlayStation, I shouted up the news from the hallway.

‘GREAT!’ I got hurled back sarcastically…

Grand, that wasn’t too bad, I though… envisioning the onslaught of torment when I picked the twelve year old up from school and explained what these new rules meant.

Scrubbing the house down for the umpteenth time, I wondered if I was becoming neurotic… seeing germs everywhere. Wiping everything. Panicking if hands weren’t washed.

 

The kids had been subjected to almost military drill type cleaning after school, bags in the boot, antibac hands, get home and wash hands properly, hop into shower and throw the clothes worn in school into a wash to be done at 60 degrees to kill as much as possible – wiping their bedroom down every evening with Dettol wipes… they found it amusing for the first three days but I felt the angst creep in on day 4 when one of them sneezed without covering their face and I reacted as if they had slapped me…

Picked the younger lad up from school, I think he thought it would break my resolve to have 15 kids come to the car with him. I could’ve done with a Xanax as I saw his posse approaching me… Oh god… did I have to open the window to engage? Is this what it feels like to be part of a zombie apocalypse? The unwashed approaching to infect…?

‘Alright lads?’ I said as I opened the window, bottle of antibacterial gel in hand – ‘right lads – hands!’ a quarter of a bottle of antibac later – and a telling off from another parent for being ‘excessive, panicking the children’ – I felt safe enough to have the chats.

After a lot of no you can’t come over and the many reasons why, the Mammy guilt chose its moment to weigh in heavily.

‘Look you can hang out with your friends for a couple of hours, but then you’re home and you’re in for the foreseeable, make the most of it’ throwing euros at them all to get a treat to appease my guilt a little more.

We avoided the rules conversation and what this lockdown means. Purely because I didn’t have the head for any further arguing. Tomorrow was another day and I’d face into it then.

I spent the rest of the afternoon disinfection and absolutely fucking bemused by the people who came out in droves panic buying and clearing the supermarket shelves. We were just advised to practice social distancing and in pure panic hundreds have thronged into shops pushing up against each other, breathing on each other for some toilet paper and bread… no doubt we’ll have a spike in cases after this… quickest way to catch a contagious disease lads.

We’re all going to have to find a way to get through it – and hopefully come out the other side as the same dysfunctional family we’ve always been…

Besides I’ve been in isolation for the last 8 months, it’s a new default after training hard the last decade of illness.

Bit of a downer though that I dodged death twice since November and now I’m trying to dodge it again.

If the virus doesn’t get me, the kids could very well be the death of me.

Fuck my life.

I Never Learned To Cope by Sitting Still…

Waking up in the ICU – I cried. I was alive. I couldn’t fucking believe it. I was so happy – I cried. Then I tested my newly positioned windpipe with a massive intake of breath and laughed because it never felt so good… I moved my hand to my chest to feel my heart beating and laughed again as I felt it beating in its right position – not wandered off over by my right armpit area as it had been the last 5 years! A lot of bed baths, pain and mobilisation later… Five days later I was discharged home

Then I woke up into my second week post surgery unable to turn my head to the left. I attended the local hospital where they diagnosed an ear infection and sent me home with antibiotics. On the second day of antibiotics – I found myself ringing my mother to whisk me to the emergency room because I was convinced I was on the verge of a heart attack

A lot of prodding and an admission later –  I was sitting in the hospital room – post surgery – thrilled that I had survived the repositioning of my organs – yet terrified because I was now readmitted to a different hospital and feeling quite unwell… I tried to reassure myself it was a simple infection and the antibiotics would sort it out…

Only I couldn’t help but notice that I could no longer walk to the toilet without feeling like I was suffocating. I couldn’t help but notice my pulse staying in the steady 120’s every hour they would check it. I couldn’t help but notice – I was changing my clothes several times a day because the fever was drenching everything I touched. I also couldn’t help but notice that I couldn’t get a straight answer – anytime I asked a question.

Stuck in the isolation room as the days dwindled on – regular checks and refills of meds. I knew that my body wasn’t repairing. If anything I felt desperately ill in the 3 days I had been an inpatient by day 4 – I couldn’t stop vomiting. The pain was immeasurable – the fever was overwhelming. More frightening than any of that – was the feeling that I just couldn’t take a breath… gasping – I rang the bell. Counting the minutes of no response until i started screaming for the nurse as my heart hammered in my chest and the sweat dripped from my face

In she runs – overworked – exhausted – overwhelmed and under-equipped to deal with the situation. She checks the vitals – everything has skyrocketed, she doesn’t’ know why.

“How do you feel?” she asked

“Like the bottom of my lung has fucked off and I can’t breathe” I replied in one worded bursts – gulping air in between each word

“Ok” and with that she left – I assumed to inform the doctor

Terrified that I was going to be left in this room and be found in a heap on the floor – I text a friend and asked them to contact the hospital that had performed the surgery and to give them all info

A transfer was requested from the local hospital to the surgical hospital 2 hours away. But the ambulance wasn’t free to pick me up until the next day… a tad more forcefulness from my friend and another elevation in heart rate later the ambulance was called again – this time we were told two hours.

Two hours later I was being brought off in the ambulance while my friend followed by car. Less than 20 minutes into the journey my heart rate elevated again and I felt as if I were being roasted alive.

“Do you’ve the heating on?” I banged out in one worded gasps

“No love, it’s cold in here” replied the paramedic

“Can I strip?”

“Whatever helps”

“Do you’ve a fan?”

“Only air conditioning”

“Can you turn it on?”

Up he stands to turn on the air con and wrap himself in fleece and blankets – him rattling with the cold and checking my vitals every few minutes and me feeling like I was baking under the heat of the sun – despite the freezer like conditions

My breathing rapidly became worse and by the time we reached Dublin – my blood pressure was extremely low. I kept zoning in and out. It was on that journey that I truly thought – this is it. I’m going to die

Rushed in to the hospital for transfer – there’s an immediate flush of medicines being pushed into the cannula in my hand to try and regulate my heart rate and push out some of the fluids built up around my heart and remaining lung that were preventing me from breathing

The next 4 weeks was a journey of excruciating pain as procedure after procedure was carried out to remove the fluid that couldn’t be removed any other way other than to pierce through into the lung and heart to add drains.

My body ached in a way that its never hurt before. The exhaustion was phenomenal. The weakness was debilitating. But more than all of that – the most difficult thing to contend with was and still is – my mind.

As we had episodes of my heart racing, chest hurting – staff running in laying me flat on the bed – telling me to deep breathe – telling me to “bear down like you’re having a bowel movement to try slow the heart” – feeling it thundering in it’s now correct position as if it were ready to burst free of it’s captor… alarms ringing – people filling the room – the sound of machinery being wheeled in.

“Am I having a heart attack?”

“We’re just going to do a quick trace just to see what’s happening – just try to relax…”

Gown being lifted up – stickers being slapped on – cables being attached – reading done – blood pressure done – doctors confirm it’s not a heart attack – but it’s something – we just need to run a few more tests…

Every time – as I sat in that room on my own – wiling away the days between devouring Netflix and the odd brief conversation with the nurses as the popped in for more checks and the odd fleeting visitors. I found myself slipping into a place of loneliness – of fear – of overthinking.

Each new episode of chest pain and racing heart and alarms sounding, people rushing, machinery being wheeled in – I became fearful that any time this happens could be the very last time it happens…

I began to wonder did I just come this far – to just die?

I watched women double my age walk past my door in their dressing gowns and I felt angry that I was confined to the bed for what was the third week in a row.

I had reached a point where I had built up in my mind a constant fear – that at any point – my body could decide to just stop working. I didn’t know how to overcome the thoughts. IT was a constant racing of my mind 24/7.

The decision was made to allow me to walk – to try and monitor how well the heart and lung were coping under duress. The heart wasn’t compliant!

It was decided due to the fluid being drained – and the influenza outbreak becoming an issue – that I should be discharged home to see how I get on. The goal being the more physio I do – the stronger I will become. To begin with it was 3 walks per day for 5 minutes each. I haven’t gotten far beyond that because we’re still having trouble with the racing heart and waiting on a review to decide how best to handle it going forward.

On discharge day – the drain was to be removed. My lovely nurse came in – told me to lie on my side – and she went to remove the drain tube from my back with the assistance of another nurse. This tube that had caused so much pain – just to take a simple breath.

“Oh no – that’s a big deal” she said

Immediately I tense on the bed – anxiety taking hold. “Will it be ok?” I query

“Oh I don’t know we’ll have to get X to look at it – I’m not sure” she replied

“Can I have a Xanax?” I ask – dizzy with anxiety that this drain removal is going to cause all sorts of complications

“An Oxynorm might be wise too” she says

“I don’t want morphine” I reply

“Ok Claire we’ll get your Xanax sweetheart”

Off her assistant goes and comes back with a Xanax and another nurse

“Oh I haven’t removed one of these in a loooong time – that’s a pigs tail drain” says new nurse

“So what do we do?” says first nurse

“I think get X to have a look” says new nurse – off she goes and in returns herself and two other nurses

Two new accomplices agree they aren’t comfortable touching it – all the while I’m lying on the bed – wishing that this conversation wasn’t happening in earshot – my whole body is rigid with tension

“I think we’ll have to call X in” suggests first nurse

As I lay there she goes off and returns with the surgeon – who asks if I’ve taken the Oxynorm. I say I haven’t. He recommends that I do because this is going to hurt “like a motherfucker” as he so quaintly put it. I remind him the Oxy interferes with my heart rate – to which he replies pant breath like you’re in the middle of contractions – and half the crowd behind me begin to pant breathe to show me what he means – I join the choir of “panters” and together we pant while he cuts the tubing lose – I feel something ungodly move right inside me next to my lung that sends a shooting pain toward my chest and then it recoils – my choir of panters keep panting while I add a “FFFFFFUUUUUCCCK” to the mix…

IT’s not out yet that’s just cutting the pigs tail loose – he says

I join back in with the panting choir as one moves to the front and bravely offers a hand for me to crush. I grip it and I can tell he’s bracing himself as much as I am as his hand tightens around mine…

READY? HERE WE GO! And with an almighty tug and a pain that brought me to the point of passing out he pulled the pigs tail from my lung cavity and I crushed my nurses hand – followed by rounds of ” Now Claire – all done – are you feeling ok?”

Followed by – “What time is your lift home arriving?” As I lay there hardly able to take a breath with the pain rippling through me; “Soon” I replied…

I’ve been home a little over a week – I’ve had a couple of episodes of heart racing since returning home – each a little more terrifying. The place you really want to be when this stuff is going down is the hospital.

I’m a decent patient. But I am a diabolical person during recovery. It can never happen fast enough. I always want to achieve more… The last couple of days have been particularly frustrating. MY energy levels are creeping back but I still cannot move around as I want to. I know these things take time. But. I never learned to cope while sitting still…

For every outlandish, outrageous barrier that I’ve encountered in my adult life – my default is to always keep busy. Throw myself into work, into activism, into my volunteer work, into anything at all that means I don’t have to take the time to sit down and reminisce and dwell – allowing the things to tear me down, because so much has happened in my lifetime – that to have the time to sit and think and let it wash over me – to work through the emotions – could quite possible destroy me. I don’t know how one “deals” with the magnitude of things that have happened in my life – so I keep busy. IT worked – I experienced zero depression – anxiety over things that one should and would be generally anxious about.

But this… new sitting and feeling guilty for not being able to be a proper parent yet – having my own parents do what should be my job. Having people I love, run around after me, shopping, changing dressings, helping me dress, helping me shower, the simple things that one takes for granted. It is excruciating – for me. It hurts me to the very core of my being that I am putting this pressure onto others.

The loneliness of the anxiety swallows me up as I sit at home day after day – trying to build up my strength enough so I can do something as simple as cook a meal for myself. while trying to battle the fear and find new ways to navigate the stress while I cannot be physically busy…

I have reached out to a number of friends whom I know battle with mental health issues – and have asked for their advice – asked them how they manage their anxiety – how do they cope?

I appreciate the honesty, the suggestions and opening up to me in the ways that you have – it has helped me more than you know. It is becoming less as the days go by…

Then I remembered what I always did when I was overwhelmed. I wrote. Didn’t have to make sense. It could just be a ramble – like this. In ways – weaving words from my mind to form some semblance of sentences on a page – has always been a therapeutic experience for me.

When I started out on this journey – with the ultimate goal of life saving surgery to avoid the necessity for a heart and lung transplant – my biggest fear was being put asleep and not waking up. I hadn’t thought beyond that. The mental preparation I had to do to get that far – was phenomenal – with the help of people who are now very dear to me and always will be. I didn’t think that less than a couple of weeks after surgery that I would be fighting to live again…

When I sit back and analyse it – I rationalise by telling myself – why the fuck wouldn’t you be anxious? That’s a lot for a mind and body to cope with in such a short space of time.

I remind myself that I need to be kinder to myself.

I remind myself that we need to be kinder to each other.

As a very close friend said to me a few days ago – “you can keep looking at your heart beat or you can get up and enjoy lunch with friends – you can keep worrying that your body is going to have an episode any minute or you could spend your time watching a decent movie…” so on and so forth until I found myself thinking – actually – yes. Every minute I’m worrying about dying – is every minute I’m wasting time that I could be living

While I try to remind myself of that as each new day arrives and I find myself alone with my thoughts for prolonged periods of time. I realise that these things take time.

Until I reach my goal of full physical independence again – I’m just going to have to tend to my “mind garden” and find a way to cope, while sitting still…

 

Woman By Society

Sort out that makeup, get that contour just right, those cheekbones need complete definition, those eyebrows should be microbladed on to the classification of “on fleek” – oh and don’t forget the high heels and the body skimming dresses that are stuck to a nice slim figure – but not too skinny though, those men like curves, skinny enough not to be fat – the perfect 10 but remember those breasts and ass need to pop – those are the “moneymakers” and what all women are judged on foremost.

 

The first cardinal rule of being a woman is making sure you’re up to date with fashion – buy clothes regularly – making sure to have the proper colours associated with this seasons latest trends – oh, but you must remember to keep your old clothes as well so you can mash up your style to “retro”. Besides, we all know girls that a woman can never have too many pairs of shoes! It’s paramount over the years that you collect as many pairs as you can, for shoes maketh the woman and define just how womanly you are. Remember to be up to date with the latest celebrity gossip – god forbid you should hold a particular opinion on politics or anything worthwhile – you really shouldn’t worry yourself with bigger matters of the world dear. Marry into money so you’re a kept woman and don’t need to worry about keeping your nose stuck in books. Your looks are far more important.

 

Your body – well that should be flawless at all times – all the advertising says so! Skin as smooth as silk – the most important body rule. Ladies – an attractive woman doesn’t have body hair – so those legs, pits, upper lip and whatever else should be pruned, preened, waxed or shaved! Psssst… not forgetting the vagina! What grows naturally isn’t natural – remember that! Otherwise – what man is going to want you?

 

You should be properly toned thanks to a regime of yoga and gym at least twice a week, your stomach should be flat – no muffin tops – you should accentuate an hourglass figure where your hips open out after your modest waist. Not forgetting the most important item in our armour – the push up bra – those girls look best when they are standing up and perky, the bigger the better – no breasts should be left hanging out naturally.

 

Not forgetting the all important power of perfume and deodorant – a thick cloud should be applied daily – NOBODY should know what your body scent smells like – well – that’s if you ever want to appeal to anyone. Never EVER leave the house without completing this ritual. Oh and ladies – don’t forget those pantyliners – you know…  the scented ones to absorb any uncomfortable smells from “down there”.

 

Speaking of “down there” make sure to be in control of those bits ladies – get your contraception sorted – you shouldn’t become pregnant too young, too old, too sick, too poor, unemployed, while working on your career, when you have too many kids already, when you’re single, or when society deems you as “not the type to make a good mother”. We need to be mindful of these societal norms – we don’t want to be upsetting the ethos of the church and the judgmentals of our communities. Even though we fought hard to Repeal the 8th for our own bodily autonomy and we now have the right to terminations for unplanned pregnancy – you need to be mindful who you speak to about this. Abortion is a dirty word in Ireland still. Any woman who has one – well she’s to be shamed. There is no acceptable reason and even if there was – we all know if it becomes public knowledge – we’ll be the talk of the town outside the Church gates on the Sunday morning after mass… 

 

“Did ya hear about yer wan…?” You know yourself – so make sure to only get pregnant when the timing is perfect. Swallow your contraceptives like a clever woman until then. Then when the time comes you magically turn into a healthy, nurturing and perfect mother.

 

Don’t forget to remain attractive to your partner after pregnancy. You must immediately begin to lose that baby weight. No excuses! He’s not going to care that you’ve not slept since you were 7 months pregnant and the size of a beached whale, he’s not going to care that your boobs are sore and leaking from breastfeeding – and running is making it worse. He’s not going to care that your vagina is on fire from pushing something the size of a bowling ball through it or that your caesarean section scar feels like it’s about to rip open spilling the contents of your insides out with it! You only spent 9 months growing another human – no reason to be letting yourself go – get your shit together. You’re making the rest of us look bad.

 

Evolution has made us girls able to juggle ten things comfortably at once – you should be able to deal with these issues calmly as they occur – your attention should be split equally with as much care shown for one task as the next. So if the baby is screaming, the older kids are killing each other, dinner is burning on the cooker, the fire needs to be lit, the laundry needs to be hung and in the middle of it your nosey next door neighbour pops in to say hello you should welcome them graciously, offering tea and biscuits while you discreetly manage the rest of the chaos around you making it seem effortless while apologising to your guest for the state the house is in and be sure to inform them it was clean this morning.

 

Speaking of managing things – your menstrual cycle isn’t something to be discussed publicly. It’s an uncomfortable topic for the majority and I don’t care how hormonal you are, a grown woman should be able to get a grip on her emotions- a hot water bottle for the painripping through you and couple of paracetamol will do the finest. You may get used to it girls – what else can you do – nobody is going to listen to you moan for a full week once a month for 30 odd years. Women shouldn’t be angry – anger is for the alpha male. Not for soft creatures like us. We are supposed to be nurturing and sweet.

 

Speaking of anger, you’ve only yourself to blame if you go out in skirts that are too short – underwear that is too sexy – looking tooprovocative- in heels that are too high and a dress that hugs your body too tightly. Men can’t be held accountable for their actions. What right do you have to say no then? What right do you have to tell them to fuck off if your outfit is screaming “RIDE ME“? You’ve only yourself to blame, remember that. We dress for men and not for ourselves. You better just roll with it – no point screaming that he abused you if you went out all tarted up in the first place. Oh and don’t forget when you are on that night out or that walk home from wherever – don’t walk alone – women should always go in pairs. You never know when a poor defenceless man might feel overcome with the need to attack you while you’re walking on your own. You’ve a much better chance of survival in pairs – also carry your pepper spray and rape alarm.

 

Be strong. But be soft.

 

Don’t be a “too much” woman. Nobody likes a “too much” woman.

 

Oh and sweetie – SMILE!! You look so much prettier when you smile…

Claire Malone Rationale

(My Little Woman- the future of women – a big 1 year old on this international Women’s Day 2019 – be a TOO MUCH woman – this world needs more of them!)