Saturday, August 10, 2019

NEVER Let a Socialist Be In Control. They will miraculously Turn Into a Fascist

So, I had an interesting experience this morning.  Interesting, because in this day of polarising politics we all get to see each others' political colours, more brightly than ever before.

Until this morning I was an admin of a page titled Brunswick Heads, a place I lived in for 3yrs from 2013 till 2016.  I consider Bruns my spiritual home and will likely move back there one day.  The other admin of this page, a woman I will call Wendy, also created this page.  In my naivete I thought she had created the page to show her love for the area and allow others to do the same.  However, it turns out that her intention was to use the page to promote her businesses and her political leanings.

This morning Wendy posted this, from Instagram, with the caption, "If anyone follows the byron.bay instagram account, please be aware they support Israel Folau and his hate speech towards gay people . It is very un-byron, a part of this wonderful rainbow region."




There followed a slew of comments by surprised followers who were not happy with a political post on a seemingly apolitical page that isn't even connected to Byron Bay, the town, or the Instagram page mentioned.  Both towns are in the Byron shire, however.

As people commented, including myself, it became obvious that several people were unhappy that this page had been used as a political platform to push Wendy's political views.  Wendy then began deleting comments when it was suggested she was using the page in this way.  She also deleted a comment of her own to the effect that she did not want any of her businesses to be connected to Israel Folau and his supporters, and yet by posting this Instagram post, whom she said she had unfollowed on Instagram, she was doing exactly that, not to mention that she had admitted she was using the Brunswick Heads Facebook page as a way to promote her businesses, which is fine, but she has not been transparent about that.

The thing I have much disdain for is her use of the page to push a political agenda to a large group of people, about the size of the population of Brunswick Heads itself.

When I called her out she deleted many of my comments, deleted me as an admin and unfriended me, after several years of friendship, from 2012 in fact.

Now, I don't know about you, but to me this looks like a case of fascism, the very thing that so-called left-leaning people are fighting against.



This morning I read an article titled,

Leaked FBI Report Shows Left-Wingers Are a Bigger Threat Than White Supremacists

The article states, "The FBI’s 2018-2019 Consolidated Strategy Guide, an annual summary of the agency’s security priorities, was released Thursday by The Young Turks, a leftist media network.
https://pluralist.com/fbi-white-supremacy-leaked-documents/



Everything is turning upside down.  Have you noticed?



Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Safety or Freedom, Can I Have Both?


Something amazing happened to me today.  I made a decision that will send me on a new journey in a new area, in my own place, after sharing space with other people for what seems like way too long.

In the last two years a lot has happened and although I had my own place this time two years ago I was not living in it and had sub-let it to a friend.  I was travelling between my partner’s home in Main Arm, Mullumbimby and my family’s homes in Brisbane.  In May 2016 my partner was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumour and had surgery two days later. 

Neurosurgeons removed 90 percent of the tumour and a week or so later he was back home, preparing to undergo radiotherapy and chemotherapy “treatments” (tortures).  A little over a year later he passed away in June 2017.

I’ve since been living in Brisbane, with my daughter, then when our home sold I moved in with a stranger, who advertised for a housemate in a large 4-bedroom home.  I recently had to move out of there suddenly, due to a serious breach of trust on my housemate’s part, making me feel unsafe.

That was about 10 days ago.  I’ve been staying at my son’s home since then, whilst he and his Dad were on holiday for the last week of the school holidays. They’re back now and it’s back to work and school.  Meanwhile, I looked at a few potential places to move to, two in the Byron shire of New South Wales and a gorgeous little self-contained apartment on an off-grid property in the bush of the Sunshine Coast hinterland, which I have just decided to lease for a year.
 
I have a few days to organize the move and I’m really excited to make it my new home.  I can’t wait!

This brings me to the theme of my blog.  That women really need somewhere they can call home, that is safe, above all else.
 
I’ve read that safety is the number one need for women and conversely freedom is the number one need for men.  In my experience that statement rings true.  However, in saying that I am also a seasoned wanderer/traveller and freedom is a high priority value of mine, after family.  So much so, that as a Classical Liberal, or left-leaning libertarian even my politics centre around that theme, but when it comes to home it must be a safe haven, preferably a sanctuary and that’s what I’ve found, nestled in the Australian bush, not too far from the beach.
 
How lucky am I?

I had to take a risk though, as the rent is much higher than what I’ve been currently paying and I don't have a job to go to.

There’s a part of me that loves taking risks too.  In my early twenties I travelled to Europe on my own, stayed with family in the English Midlands for a month or two, shared a flat in London for a month or two, lived and worked in an Irish pub in East Acton for a month or two and then travelled with a young woman I’d met in London to Israel, where we hitched around the country and then headed to Egypt, where I felt so much at home that I stayed on when my friend went to Turkey and Greece.  My intention was to teach English in Cairo for a while, which is what some of my new friends there were doing.  It wasn’t to be though.  I went back to London to pick up a suitcase I’d left at the pub I’d worked at and upon my arrival back in Cairo I was informed by Interpol that my step-father had passed away.

Unfortunately I did not have enough money readily available to fly home to New Zealand right away and had to wait for money I’d left behind to be transferred to a bank in Cairo, which took several weeks, so that by the time I got back home the funeral was over and I did not get a chance to say goodbye to my Dad.
 
I also felt strangely like a fish out of water.  I was back home but I no longer had a room available to me in my mother’s house and was sleeping on the couch, until shortly after I met my daughter’s father-to-be.
 
He offered me a place to stay at his house, which he shared with his father and within weeks I was going to university, studying languages and history, two subjects I discovered I had a love for whilst I was overseas.  Before long our relationship was getting serious, we became engaged and planned to have a baby.  We looked at houses and bought a property.  Things seemed to be going really well for a while, but once our daughter was born things went pear-shaped.  I had planned to find work soon after my daughter was born but mothering instincts kicked in more than expected and I made the decision to stay home full-time with her, at least until she started school, which in New Zealand, was at the age of 5.  Her father didn’t like that idea though, he wanted me to get a job as soon as possible, so we separated and we never got to be the family I thought we were going to be.  Instead I found myself living my worst fear as a single mother.
 
My baby daughter and I moved in with my own mother and her partner, where I descended into a depression that took the light out of me for some time.  Thank God I have a mother who was willing and able to take care of the both of us.  That situation wasn’t to last for long though, as my mother’s relationship with her partner was rocky and I did not feel safe there.

We found ourselves in Salvation Army emergency housing, where I slowly got back on my feet, bought some furniture and eventually we moved into our own little home, a granny flat at the back of the owner’s property.  We were very happy there for a year or so until the flat was sold and we were forced to move again.

It was devastating to me to find that I could not afford anything I liked and we ended up in a home in an area of our city that was known as “nappy valley”, where a lot of single mothers lived.  I had resisted going to such an area and did not want to associate myself with this demographic as the single mother stigma was strong.  I cried myself to sleep the first few nights we were there, but at least we had somewhere safe to be.  Eventually, we settled in and lived there for about 3½ years.  I discovered that being a single mother wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined it would be and we lived a fairly carefree life.  

We struggled for money, even though I worked part-time and we took in housemates, which didn’t always work out, until after 8yrs I decided I wanted to share our lives with a new man.  New Year’s Eve, 1998, I made a resolution that by the end of that year I would find a man to share our lives with, which I did.

The following year my daughter and I moved to Brisbane, Australia, to be with him and a new chapter began.  We had a safe home with a safe man for 8yrs, until I discovered that he wasn’t so safe after all.  We separated in 2007, my daughter and I moved into our own place again and I shared custody of my then 3yr old son with his father, one week on, one week off, for 4yrs.
 
I worked at the local cinema whilst studying with the Life Coaching Academy and trying to get my new coaching business off the ground.  My daughter had recently left school and started working, so we were doing okay, for a while.

In 2011 everything went pear-shaped again.  My son decided he wanted to live with his Dad full-time and my daughter moved out, to live with her then boyfriend (soon to be husband).  I was devastated, suddenly with an empty nest and a failed business.  I could no longer afford my home and found myself sleeping in a single bed in a friend’s home office.  I wasn’t on the street at least, but I felt like a total failure.  Deep depression set in for again and I wrestled with thoughts of suicide.
 
I knew I couldn’t stay in this situation for long and had booked myself into a 10-day Vipassana meditation retreat, which I really shouldn’t have done, as they warn against doing the retreat when suffering from mental illness.  I did it anyway and although it was very difficult I hung in until the end.  It wasn’t difficult being silent but it WAS difficult being with my thoughts 24hrs a day, with no distractions.  We were not allowed books, music, pens or paper, or even our phones.  

Afterward I still struggled with depression and anxiety, eventually finding myself volunteering at a health retreat in the Gold Coast hinterland for six weeks, where I got fit and met some new friends, whom I treasure to this day, one of whom we lost to cancer a couple years ago.

I stayed with my daughter and her new fiancé for a while after that and then in a hotel on the Brisbane River for a week, before flying out to New Zealand on a two-month backpacking trip around both islands, free as a bird. 

The Occupy movement had just taken off.  I visited the major Occupy sites around the country and I also followed around a tour group from America, from Auckland to Queenstown, where I had dinner with them all on their last night, before they flew back to the USA.

I also stayed with friends and family along the way and finally flew back to Brisbane in December 2011, where I was met at the airport by the man who would become my on/off partner for the next 6 ½ years.  He would also turn out to be an alcoholic and a man who held some very deep resentment toward women.  Sometimes I felt safe with him and other times, far from it.

So there’s that safety thing again.
 
Wanting safety doesn’t stop me from wanting to be adventurous and free too. I want both.  I want the safety of a home I can call my own and the freedom to come and go as I please, compromising on neither.  It seems that for the first time in my life I will finally have that.
 

It feels like the best feeling in the world.

Update: 7 November 2018
I did not find a job in my new home, I felt isolated and restricted in a beautiful birdcage.  After only two months I was back in Brisbane, in a shared home, which at first I was not happy about, but soon settled into and now love it here.  I'm close to the Brisbane River again, in the same both my children live and my current housemates (2 of them) are awesome.




Saturday, December 30, 2017

Where Has Australia’s Compassion and Empathy Gone?

I’ve been shocked and disappointed, a lot, over the last few weeks, to discover that the majority of Australians lack compassion and empathy.  Ok, I spend a lot of time on social media, mostly Facebook, which has been known to be a breeding ground, or rather, a free for all, for people’s nasty to come out, when it may not in real life.

Just yesterday I read a story about a young Australian man who came off a scooter in Bali and whose travel insurance wouldn’t cover his medical bills (at least not up front) and so his family put together a GoFundMe account, which has now reached over $40,000 towards its goal of $60,000.

The story in question, posted by 7 News Australia, linked to a news report video with the text, “A Perth man critically injured in a scooter crash in Bali has woken from his coma. Friends and family are now trying to raise $60,000 to cover Emlyn Thomas’ medical costs.

The comments on this post range from barely a couple of purely supportive comments, to comments offering advice and information, to comments blaming the man for not wearing a helmet, being drunk (the news report did not mention he’d been drinking) and not having travel insurance (which he did).  His travel insurance company, according to his sister in the report, would not pay for the medical bills up front, leaving it up to his family to foot the bill.

Unbelievably, the majority of people commenting are flat out saying he deserved it because he’s stupid and why should they “be expected” to pay for his stupidity, when GoFundMe accounts are funded by donations.  No one is “expected” to pay anything.

For fuck’s sake, Australia, where is your compassion?  Where is your empathy?  Imagine if this were your brother, your husband/partner, father, cousin.  I am deeply, deeply disappointed.


Then there have been the reactions to the mentally ill man from Afghanistan, who mowed down a large group of people in Flinders Street, in the heart of Melbourne, last week, with a 4-wheel drive vehicle.  One of the victims passed away just two nights ago.  The accused has been charged with 17 counts of attempted murder and that charge will now likely be upgraded.
The majority of Australians see this man as a “terrorist”, simply because he is a Muslim immigrant from Afghanistan, where Australia, along with her ally, America, have been bombing the shit out of the place for years, since the attack on the Twin Towers in NYC in 2001, which was blamed on Osama bin Laden, a Muslim from Saudi Arabia and who was said to be housed in Afghanistan when he was “found” and murdered by USA operatives a few years ago.
The accused man came to Australia to get away from the horrors we are perpetrating in his home country, only to be disparaged and hated, simply because he is Muslim.  Australia has a long history of xenophobia and treated the Asians, the Greeks and the Italians in much the same way, when they came.  It’s no wonder this guy has a mental illness!
But Australians, the majority of them from what I’ve seen, would have this man drawn and quartered before he’s even been to trial.  They dismiss the fact that he has a mental illness and has been (and is being) treated for it, saying he’s simply a terrorist and the mental illness is just an excuse, so it doesn’t count.
Well, it fucking DOES count.  He IS mentally ill.  He IS being treated and he IS probably going to plead not guilty, because of that mental illness.

I know there are many heart-centred people in Australia too, it’s one of the reasons I love it so much here, along with the weather and the wide open spaces.

I just had to get this off my chest before we head into 2018. 

This has been a tough year for me, with the loss of my father and my partner, both whom struggled with alcohol addiction and both, I believe, died from complications of that.

Alcoholism is a scourge in Australia, as it is in all other western countries.  We have got to find ways for young men especially, to process their internalized resentments and traumas, so that they can be free.


But that’s another blog post.


Saturday, December 16, 2017

Women Bad, Men Good?

A theme has popped up a couple times lately for me that has really pissed me off.

It comes in different guises.  Here are two that have showed up in the last couple of weeks.

1)    Women could have prevented World Wars 1 & 2, simply by withholding sex from the men who went to fight.

2)    Women are responsible for the current state of chaos in the world because they haven’t guarded their eggs responsibly.  Instead they had sex with bad men, separated from those bad men and are now dependent upon welfare, forcing all working men to pay for the sins of the bad men.

See where I’m going with this?

Yes, both these statements come from two different MEN.

Both men have Mummy issues.  No surprises there.

This is where I get really sad.

I was in a relationship with a man who had Mummy issues.  He told me that she hit him and his younger brother when they were growing up.  Their Dad left the family home when they were young, to go fight in Vietnam and came back a broken man, battling alcohol addiction and prone to violence.

Their parents separated, leaving two little boys devastated.

The eldest (my partner) also became an alcoholic who was prone to violence.

He had a deep resentment toward women and even told me once that he believed all men had some part of them that wanted to hurt women.

I still wonder if that is true.


Does anyone really think that the men would not have gone to war if their women would not have had sex with them?

I don’t.

Does anyone really believe that women should be able to predict whether the man she falls in love with and has children to would turn into a violent alcoholic?

Sure, in some cases the signs are there, but definitely not always.

I’m still trying to get my head around what the two statements above actually mean in the big scheme of things. 

It is my feeling that men who say things like that are projecting their shit onto women because it is too painful to own their own responsibility for their lives and the state of the world.

Am I being too harsh?

Am I denying some kind of fucked up truth, that women are to blame for all of society’s ills?


What do you think?



Saturday, December 9, 2017

Red-Pilled and Woke


I watched ‘The Matrix’ when it came out in 1999.  What a year that was.  I began studying the Rothschild Banking System with an American man who ran websites called WealthStudy.com and PrivateProfits.com.  His aim was to teach his students how to create wealth outside of the fractionalized banking system, which is overseen by the City of London and managed by the Federal Reserve in the USA and Reserve Banks in other Western countries such as Canada, Australia and New Zealand.  

December 1999 I also moved from New Zealand to Australia with my then 8yr old daughter.

In Brisbane I found myself volunteering for a government funded organisation called 'Get That Job'.  The organisation's aim was to help the long-term unemployed to update their resume, build confidence and hone their interview skills so they could get a job.  This position suited me well since I had been self-employed in New Zealand, writing resumes for some time.

I continued to educate myself on wealth-building, attending conferences and seminars and was introduced to Jamie McIntyre, a self-made millionaire, who wrote a book called, 'What I Didn't Learn at School and Wish I Had.'  
I just recently gave a copy of the book to my now 13yr old son. 

I became interested in natural therapies, studied some rather obscure modalities such as colour therapy, The BodyTalk System, Facial Harmony Balancing, Kinesiology and another energy healing system called Quantum Touch.  

In 2004 my son was born.  We called him Ashton, after Ashton Kutcher, who at the time was an actor/comedian with his own show called “Punk'd”.  Ashton Kutcher is now co-founder (along with his former partner, Demi Moore) of THORN, a non-profit organisation, fighting against child sexual abuse and child trafficking.

When my son was still young (and I was still breastfeeding) I became a member of the Wildly Wealthy Women program, founded on the Sunshine Coast by two women, Sandy Forster (who taught mind-set principles) and Dymphna Boholt (who taught real estate investing).  The program was designed to teach wealth-building for women, which covered both personal development and practical strategies.  Through my exposure to the real estate industry I discovered another interest and studied with the National Finance Institute, gaining a Certificate IV in Financial Services - Mortgage Broking, and wrote a few loans for women in the WWW program with the now defunct investment loans company, Source Finance.

My son's father and I separated in 2007.  We agreed to share custody of Ashton. My daughter, Chanel, and I moved into our own place.  That was another big year for us.  She left school, found her niche in retail, becoming the youngest manager of a Darrell Lea store in the country and I started work at the local cinema.  I worked there for two years, whilst I studied life coaching with The Life Coaching Academy, based on the Gold Coast.  I also studied Neuro-Linguistic Programming, a coaching model utilising the often untapped power of the unconscious mind, gaining Practitioner and Master diplomas. I graduated from the Life Coaching Academy in 2009 with a Certificate IV in Life Coaching and became a paid mentor to new students.

In 2011, the Occupy Wall Street Movement exploded across the Western world.  I fell in love with the movement and became a member of the Occupy Brisbane chapter where I lived.  I did a two-month backpacking trip around New Zealand, visiting the major Occupy sites there in Auckland, Wellington, Christchurch and Dunedin.  

The movement was a catalyst for a major paradigm change.  Most of the campsites remained in place for several months, until they were moved on by authorities.  They were also plagued by in-fighting between Marxist anarchists, who were prone to violence, and those who just wanted to see political change. I was in the latter category.  I didn’t know it at the time but I was being primed to become something I never had any interest in, a passionate political activist.
 
In 2013 Tony Abbott was elected Australian Prime Minister.  Myself and everyone around me were horrified.  He was your garden variety right-wing Christian theist.  He stood against everything I held dear as a liberal. No-one I knew had voted for him and no-one I came across admitted to voting for him, so how the fuck did he get elected?  As time went on he was toppled by an internal spill in the Australian “Liberal” (how is this a thing when the party is conservative?) Party in 2015 and Malcolm Turnbull took over as Prime Minister.  Turnbull, it turned out, was even worse than Abbot, with ties to the banking industry as a former merchant banker for Goldman Sachs. His official capacity was Chair and Managing Director of Goldman Sachs Australia (1997-2001) and a partner with Goldman Sachs and Co (1998-2001).
 
Turnbull’s wife, Lucy Turnbull, also has a political history, in local government, as Lord Mayor of Sydney from 2003 to 2004.  She was first elected to the Sydney City Council in 1999.  Lucy also has a background in commercial law and investment banking and holds the position of Director of Turnbull & Partners Pty Ltd, a private investment company.  She also chairs ASX listed biotechnology company, Prima Biomed Limited.  According to Prima Biomed’s website the company is “… working primarily in the field of cancer immunotherapy.  The company was originally built on CVac, a therapeutic cancer vaccine.”  I never heard of such a vaccine before.  


Back to me… Here I was, a naïve kiwi girl, who started to wake up in 1999 after watching ‘The Matrix’, studied the fractionalized banking system, studied natural therapies (where I learnded about the evils of the pharmaceutical industry, who push their very lucrative products with the incestuous assistance of the government and health sector, including vaccines, which are not tested nearly as vigorously as other pharmaceutical products and which are patently UN-safe) and coaching/therapy models. 

Then, about 2yrs ago, I came across a man called Stefan Molyneux' whose video series, ‘The Bomb In The Brain’ I found was brilliant.  The series introduced me to the ACE test, which evaluates Adverse Childhood Experiences and I discovered I had a very high score, which explained my history of anxiety and depression.

Through following Stefan, I later discovered that I fell into the political category of classical liberal, or libertarian, which explained why I never had a desire to vote, since neither of the major parties, conservative or liberal, adequately offered a solution to what I saw as the problems in today’s Western world.
 
Eventually I came across an interview Stefan did with a young man representing a fledgling libertarian party in Norway, they called The Capitalist Party.  Austin tells Stefan that, “We’ve managed to mobilize a rapidly growing and diverse party of freedom-oriented people.  Our consistent growth as a young party is unprecedented here in Norway.”  


I fell in love with libertarianism for two reasons, their two highest ideals: personal autonomy from the control of the State and the non-aggression principle. 

I looked for libertarian parties in Australia and I found that some leaned right and were too conservative for me and some leaned left.  I joined The Libertarian Party of Australia.  

From their website:
"The Libertarian Party generally promotes a classical liberal platform. Our party is more culturally liberal than the Labor Party, and more fiscally conservative than the Liberal Party. Put simply we take the best of other parties and form those aspects into a cohesive platform supported by a philosophy that unites all people. At its core the party believes in balanced budgets, lower taxes, more social freedom, more economic freedom."


I was now on my way to being what the dudes on Reddit and 4chan refer to as being “red-pilled”, a reference to ‘The Matrix’ movie, and my eyes were now opening to CULTURAL MARXISM.


Many people are confused by the term, Cultural Marxism, which can be very clearly defined as the indoctrination of Socialist ideology.
 

There are several insidious tentacles that promote this ideology:

·       Identity Politics and Political Correctness:  Inter-sectional Feminism (anti-male rhetoric such as the patriarchy and rape culture, anti-conservative women), anti-white rhetoric, the LGBTQ agenda, pro-Islam rhetoric (even though Islam is essentially homophobic) and anti-ableism

·       The Education System (most clearly evidenced in colleges and universities), which promotes all of the above

·       The Music Industry, which promotes all of the above

·       The Film Industry, which promotes all of the above

Much of Mainstream media, which is biased to the left, which promotes all of the above

Social Media, such as Facebook, Twitter and YouTube, who surreptitiously lead what we see on their platforms via algorithms to promote all of the above

Even Wikipedia has a left-leaning bias, who use altered definitions of language that promotes all of the above!



Have I missed anything?



My eyes are fully opened now, to the “long slow march” of Cultural Marxism, which seeks to indoctrinate individuals into socialist ideology, the antithesis of what I believe to be a good and just society, where individuals are free to live the way they wish, free of government intervention and free of aggression.

Socialist ideology seeks to control and distribute the fruits of workers’ labour, taxing their income to pay for a heavy and lopsided welfare state.  This is not freedom and it's certainly not non-aggressive.  

Australia and all western countries are currently socialist States, with variances between HOW MUCH their populaces are taxed.  For example, the Scandinavian countries are heavily taxed, with income tax rates of 60-80%.

Back to Australia, imagine if instead of income tax the government introduced a blanket tax, something to replace the current GST tax we already now pay, and abolished income tax.  The GST could pay for a Basic Universal Income for every Australian and workers would have more discretionary income, feel more abundant and more altruistic.  

Wouldn’t you feel more altruistic if you weren’t forced to pay income tax?  

I don’t know about you, but when I have more money in my pocket I want to share my wealth, and I do, and it brings me joy to do so.

Imagine if we all realised that most of us actually ARE classical liberals/libertarians and how the system I've describe above would look. 

Imagine if we had a smaller government who actually did their job as protectors of the people, rather than act as slave drivers and punishers in the name of the Australian Tax Office, who then dispense out hard-earned taxes to the various government departments (each with massive staff bodies to pay), who in turn squander those tax dollars on wasteful projects such as the war machine, intelligence (spying) on our own citizens and a ridiculously ineffective welfare system.  

Imagine if we had an effective streamlined government, minus redundant ministerial portfolios such as the ATO and Centrelink, each with massive staff bodies to pay salaries to.

Imagine if our smaller government required less politicians to pay massive salaries and benefits to.

Imagine if all western countries were to follow suit.  Can you?


Thursday, November 30, 2017

A Love Story

On this day, six months ago, my love passed away.  He’d developed one of the most aggressive of all brain cancers, Glioblastoma Multiforme, Stage 4.  He was diagnosed 10th of May 2016.  

It was a tough year, beginning with urgent brain surgery to remove 90% of the tumour (two days after diagnosis), then six weeks of radiation and chemo.  Then months of opiate dependency, debilitating sickness, fatigue and rapid weight-loss for him.  

For me, my heart broke over and over as I watched the man I loved degenerate from a healthy six foot strongman to a wisp of himself, eventually unable to eat and so heavily sedated in a hospital bed that he was unresponsive for the last few weeks before passing away in his sleep.


We had a rocky relationship, one of those on again off again stories.  We were probably apart from each other as often as we were together.  He had a temperament that would turn on a dime from loving, supportive and uproariously funny to moody, abusive and sometimes violent.  The unpredictability of his moods meant that much of the time I was in his presence I walked on egg-shells.  

But he had a vulnerability about him.  I saw it the first time I set eyes on him in a photograph on his Facebook profile, more than a year before we met.  He had an intensity about him and an animal magnetism that drew me in.  I was beholden to him, many months before we ever met in person.

When we did finally meet I had arrived back in Australia from a two-month backpacking trip around my home country of New Zealand.  He picked me up at the airport and whisked me off to his home in Maleny, on the Sunshine Coast.

The day after my arrival I discovered he was an alcoholic.

There were empty bottles all over his house.  He didn’t try to hide them or his alcoholism from me.  He was always painfully matter-of-fact about it and if I didn’t like it too bad.

I didn’t like it (I had grown up with alcoholic parents), nor did I like the abuse that started soon after (My step-father had been violently abusive to my mother) .  We only lasted about three weeks before we agreed to separate.  I went to stay at a backpackers in Brisbane and he went back to his former partner before me.

Within weeks he contacted me again, to tell me he had slapped his former partner and she had in turn slapped him with a twelve-month AVO.  I was living in another state by that time and sympathized with his deep, deep shame and regret over what he’d done.

Pretty soon he was driving down from Tewantin, on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland to visit me in Ocean Shores, NSW.  He would come on the weekends and then I would return with him to stay at his place during the week.  He had lived in the Byron shire before and wanted to move back down.

Eighteen months or so later he did move down.  By that time I was living at Cabarita Beach and a few weeks later we got a place together in New Brighton, but it only lasted a couple months before things turned sour again.  I left when he shoved me hard to the ground in a fit of rage.

I got my own place in Brunswick Heads.  He met someone else at an Alcoholics Anonymous group and I did my best to move on.  We kept in touch and eventually we found ourselves back in each other’s arms again.

The next three years were again on and off.  I spent a lot of time in Brisbane with my family and my home in Brunswick Heads was empty for weeks on end.  We were estranged when he got the news that he had a brain tumour.  He let me know straight away and I was at his side when he came out of surgery.

He recovered surprisingly quickly and began a 6-week program of radiation and chemo.  He also began taking medicinal cannabis oil (CBD and THC). Much of that time we were estranged again.
 
After recovering from the radiation and chemo his oncologists wanted him to begin another round of chemo, using a different drug, which he did begin but it proved too brutal.  He opted out, resigning himself to the oncologists' prognosis of the tumour being likely to kill him within the next 12-36mths.

The five and a half years that I had known him were the most beautiful and the most painful of my life.  In that time I discovered things about myself that amazed me and some things that scared the shit out of me.  I suffered from several serious bouts of depression and anxiety, which drove me to attempt suicide twice.

I don’t blame those bouts on him though, I’d suffered from suicidal bouts of depression and anxiety before I met him.  The really amazing thing about him was that out of everyone I’d ever known he was the most supportive and tolerant of me than anyone else in my life.  In those times he could make me feel safe, even when he was drinking and in a foul mood.  It was a very strange dichotomy.

We were estranged when he passed away.  I had found out he was in Tweed Hospital after he’d collapsed outside Woolies in Mullumbimby, where he’d walked, not far from his home.  

I drove to the hospital straightaway but he’d already been sedated when I got there and was sleeping.  I was not allowed to go into his room.  As I entered the freeway back to Brisbane a song by Katy Perry came on the radio, it was called 'Firework'.  Troy was not one for popular music but when I first met him that song never failed to make him cry.  Now I was the one crying.   

I called him the next day, from my home in Brisbane. He was not himself at all.  He told me he was at the hospital with a client (he’d worked as a disability support worker for many years) and that he would be home later, and that I was welcome to call him there.  

The following day I called the hospital again and although he sounded more like himself he was very resistant to my call, saying he was happy to dialogue with me, when he got home from the hospital, but he did not want me to call him at the hospital again.  I knew, of course, that he would not be going home but I could not bring myself to say so, and so I never got to speak with him again, except when I visited a last time one evening as the sun was going down.  He was so heavily sedated he did not acknowledge my presence and that was the last time I ever saw him.

His funeral was beautiful, in a small country hall outside Mullumbimby, arranged for him by his close group of friends in Byron, his best friend lovingly prepared the food.

I did not stay after the service though, I wanted to run after the hearse as it drove my love away from me.  I could not deal with what was happening and had to leave.  I was so grateful for the presence of my daughter, who had driven me down to Mullumbimby from Brisbane and to my son, who had also come to say goodbye.  We agreed that we would leave together there and then.

Since then I have not heard from his mother, whom I’d grown close to over the course of Troy’s illness.  She had travelled up several times from Adelaide in South Australia, to spend time with Troy, during his illness.  She has chosen not to engage with me at all.  I have, however, had the honour of getting to know his former partner and their 16yr old daughter since the funeral.  I had always wished for us to be closer whilst Troy was alive.

Nivannii and Hannah, I am so grateful to have you in my life.  We have each other now and although the man who brought us together is no longer here, we will cherish our time with him together.

Troy and I a few days after we met. Woodford, 28 Dec 2011

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Simple Differences Between Men and Women

Sometimes the differences between men and women really make me smile.

Whilst I was downstairs this morning, making a cuppa, I noticed two ten cent coins on the floor, added to the coins that were already sprinkled around the house.  It looked like they'd fallen out of my housemate's pocket. Then I noticed once again a plastic container full of coins on the bench in the kitchen and I got to thinking about how in every home I've ever shared with a man he always has coins in a container of some kind.  I've never seen that in a woman-only house.

I get that men don't like to carry coins in their wallets because they become heavy and make their wallets bulky but why don't women have those containers full of coins?  I don't like to have coins in my wallet for the same reason men don't but I prefer to use my coins up.  Is it just me, or do some women have a coin container?

I remember when I was a kid, I had a money box.  It was in the shape of Robert Muldoon's head, the Prime Minister of New Zealand at the time.  We all had money boxes back then.  Whatever happened to money boxes and why have men kept up the concept but women not?

These small idiosyncrasies between the sexes fascinate me and they endear the male gender even more to me.

I love that men and women were made to be different.  I love that we complement each other and I love that we, as a species, have also made room for non-"normal" (is that a word?) couples to shine as well.

This wasn't meant to be a piece on tolerance and acceptance but it seems it's writing itself now.

This brings me to Australia's recent plebiscite on same sex marriage.  The result of the plebiscite showed in no uncertain terms that Australians support SSM and that although there are pockets of those who are against it the democratic survey showed that Australia has now caught up with the rest of the western world, being the last western nation to ratify SSM.  What an absolute relief it must have been for our Australia's gay and lesbian community, after weeks of divisive rhetoric on both sides of the debate.  I imagine it must have been very traumatic.  Now for the Australian government to live up to its promise of bringing the nation's wishes into law before Christmas.


Do gay men couples have two coin containers?