| I know |
[14 Mar 2012|10:48am] |
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 indescribable |
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I started this as a private response to someone I consider a dear friend, but it got out of hand and I didn't want her to feel like I was proseletysing. There's been a few other incidents in my life recently which sparked the length and vehemence herein, so I probably am a bit. But here it goes.
You're right. The first time an intimate partner uses violence against you, it's a total shock to the system. Especially if there's been no indication that this was likely to happen. You're also right that the act has to be looked at in context - and the longer the good history you have with the person, the greater the sense of dislocation that they could do something like this.
I know.
I know the feeling of powerlessness that comes with having it forcibly brought home to you that, no matter the number of GIRLS CAN DO ANYTHING stickers in the world, you are still able to be physically overpowered and be completely at the mercy of somebody else.
I know the massive isolation of looking at your situation in the cold light of day and realising that financially you'd be up shit creek without the person who assaulted you, and probably reliant on people you'd rather not hand a gold-plated reason for a rousing chorus of "I told you so", especially in your current mental and physical condition. I know that crushing helplessness.
I know the doubt and self-hate that comes after a lifetime of being tough and taking no shit and knowing that you're a strong, independent woman who wears what she wants, goes where she wants, says what she wants, has all been thrown back in your face as just so much hot air when confronted with a situation where your bodily autonomy has been thoroughly removed and violated, especially by somebody you've loved and trusted implicitly, body and soul.
I also know that there comes a time when you have to sit down and think very hard about what you're willing to forgive, and what you're willing to live with. A genuinely once-off incident, however severe? Long sleeves in summer? Plastering on a smile while you determinedly make your limbs work and behave normally despite the pain in front of friends and family? Having to remember what cover story you told to whom, and how often? Desperately trying to avoid any circumstances that resemble those that preceded the attack, and feeling that sickening vertigo when something is said or done that could spark them, or reminds you of them?
I know that people will surprise you. Some with generosity, both physically and of spirit. Some with a venom and ferocity you would not have believed possible in someone you considered a friend. I know that the latter can make you feel all the more isolated, but the former will start to rekindle your hope - for yourself.
And I know that, ultimately, you get through it. Stay or leave, whichever you decide to do, you'll get through this. You may never forget it, and it may colour your interactions with the world for quite a while to come, but I know that you will get through this.
I know because I have.
http://www.dvrc.org.au/
http://www.dvconnect.org/
http://www.centacarebrisbane.net.au/content.php/domestic-and-family-violence-support
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| Wish I'd read this ten years ago |
[06 Mar 2012|08:39am] |
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 cynical |
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http://peopleforpuertorico.blogspot.com.au/2011/03/do-not-let-domestic-violence-end-your.html
( Content behind here, for the link-phobic )
A CULT OF TWO
The batterer will work hard to have psychological control over the woman he abuses.
He will do this by separating her from her friends and family,
telling her about abuse he suffered as a child, so she pities him and feels she must be his caretaker.
monopolizing all of her time so she hardly spends a minute alone outside work.
telling her everything that happens between them is their business and they will resolve their problems as a couple without any outside intervention.
pretending he is the concerned caregiver and he is the person to whom she should turn every time she has a problem.
Your lover is not your psychologist nor should he replace your entire family and all of your friends. It becomes like a cult of two in which the abused is brainwashed into thinking their relationship is normal and she begins to accept the unacceptable.
( Read more... )
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| Happy New Year - have a poem |
[06 Jan 2012|01:15pm] |
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 happy |
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Afterglow
Comfortably entwined
Sweat cooling under the fan's ministrations
My head finds its perfect place,
Just inside the shoulder.
Hair mussed and stretched across the pillow
My prayer flag, my mandala.
The voluptuous feel of so much skin -
Yours, mine, merging and at rest
Fingertips idly, lazily wandering over
Arms, belly, back, breasts, tummy,
Silently drawing secret runes of shared happiness.
-Rex 2012
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| So much truth in one place is not good for you this early in the morning |
[01 Apr 2011|07:34am] |
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mood |
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 awake too damn early |
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This list taken from here. (If you're chronically ill and don't subscribe to butyoudontlooksick.com, I highly recommend it. Hell, I recommend it even if you're not chronically ill!)
You might have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome if ...
1) You have ever been kicked out of a doctor’s practice for being too high maintenance.
2) You don’t drink, but you still have more “mystery bruises” than a perpetually drunk frat boy.
3) Your medical records contain any of the following terms: “hypochondriac” “drug-seeking behavior” “munchausem by proxy” or “psychosomatic”
4) Any of your funniest stories start with “when my doctor first gave me (insert medication here)…”
5) You go to the circus and are offered a job.
6) Your doctor has ever uttered the phrase “THAT’S a new one!”
7) Your friend, the gambling addict, stops going to the casino & starts betting on the number of times you will dislocate a particular joint that week.
8 ) You tend to date around before you commit… to a new doctor.
9) You are convinced your doctor should be paying YOU for teaching him about EDS.
10) You envy college students for the amount of sleep they get.
( Kinda long, but almost every single one applies to me. )
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| I haven't fought a windmill in a fortnight |
[24 Mar 2011|12:01pm] |
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mood |
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 numb |
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Well, it's been a while. There's been a lot happening. I think today though I'm going to talk about what's been happening since this incident. Fair warning, once again, we're going to be talking about my anatomy below the waist and the things done to it in the name of science.
The smear that was taken that day was sent off. You know how I said that every time I get to the point where I should be able to go back to 2-yearly exams the result comes back as a low-grade abnormality and I'm right back at the start? I was expecting that again. This time however Fate decided to shake things up a little. This time the result came back as a high-grade abnormality, interepithelial lesion with squamous cells present/carcinoma in situ. For those at the back, that's a nice way of saying potentially cancerous changes are happening. When coupled with the "severe erosion" of the surface of my cervix in the last 12 months (we went back through my records and checked on the report from my previous smear) serious concern was expressed by my doctor, and urgent referral forms were faxed off on the spot. Nobody ever told me to beware the Ides of February, ffs.
Bless the public health system's little cotton socks, it only took until yesterday for there to be an appointment available at the colposcopy clinic. Once more into the breech of the Medical Industrial Complex strode I, with my beloved companion ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.2) dragarnuss at my side.
(Half an hour later.)
Turns out I'm not actually ready to describe/discuss the procedure. I will say that I am nursing a new and special hate for the "boss" gynae who was called in to supervise and have a look - being apprised of my condition, my increasing problem with severe pain with penetration, and the facts that I'm on a titrated hourly transdermal dose of narcotics, have arthritis, a history of frequent dislocations/sublaxations/severe sprains, polymyalgia and a fractured vertebra, he still felt it necessary to condescendingly tell me to "just relax" when, after fifteen minutes of having a speculum in the open position and having had multiple instruments scraped across my cervix, I was in considerable distress and trying not to cry or move around too much. Further to this, when he was dumb enough to show me the instrument he was about to use to take a biopsy from one of the two "large areas of serious concern", and we were at the twenty-minutes post speculum insertion point by then, he went with the patronising tone when he said, "I don't know what you're saying no to. I haven't done anything yet." Had I had more wits about me, I would have pointed out to him that that may be the case, but I was still wearing my GP boots and his head was in a very convenient position. There's a rant there about knowing my history, especially as it relates to pain and the tolerance thereof, if I'm lying there hyperventilating and whimpering and generally not giving the impression that I'm enjoying what's happening in the slightest, do you think it would be because I'm a silly hysterical female, or that maybe, just maybe, it could be because I WAS IN SEVERE AND IMMENSE PAIN? I think I can legitimately call this man a cunt because, right now, I don't really have a use for one of them, and it's definitely not on my "favourite body parts" list any more.
I don't know why he felt the small biopsy taken yesterday was necessary in the first place, given that he and the resident both agreed before taking it that the next step is surgery. The areas of "concern" extend beyond the transformation zone and into the cervix, as well as almost covering the entire visible surface. I visit the anaesthetist to talk to him tomorrow and next Monday I'm going in to have a large cone biopsy taken in the hope that it will remove all the changed cells. I think they're also going to cauterise the surface to remove what isn't taken by the biopsy.
I'm not looking forward to this.
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| So you want to be a Stage Manager. (Part 2 of ?) First Rehearsals |
[21 Feb 2011|10:34pm] |
First rehearsal
It will generally be pretty chaotic but *should* include a greeting session where the cast is established and the director and stage manager are introduced, an initial read-through of the script, and possibly a discussion of what the director hopes to have in the way of a finished product.
Ground rules for rehearsals should also be set and agreed to at the first. Things like please be on time, and be very clear about when rehearsals are set to start as opposed to when you'd like the actors to arrive - if they want to warm up, and rehearsals are due to start at 7 o'clock, then suggest they arrive at least half an hour earlier in order to be warmed up and have chatted out their day so they are ready to go promptly at 7. (It's also your job at rehearsals to give them reminders about how long they've got, and to make sure that start times are observed.) Give them your mobile number, and make sure you've got theirs, and request that if an actor knows they're going to be late that they please call or message you ahead of time. If an actor is more than five or ten minutes late without having let you know, it's time to ring them to make sure all is well.
Other rules can include things like food & drink, which will depend on your director's preference and, obviously, what your venue allows. If there are things like tea and coffee making facilities, remind them that you are their stage manager, not their maid or mother, and therefore it is not your job to wash up after them. If this seems difficult for them, you can always draw up a roster for them to follow. (Alternatively, tell them they can't have tea and coffee, though that tends to be a less popular option.)
Health and Safety should be addressed - at the very least make sure you are familiar with the fire safety procedures of your venue, and then inform your cast of where the exits and marshalling points are should an alarm sound. You should also know if there are any specific health concerns within your cast - don't ask them to announce anything to the world if they don't want to, but if one of them is asthmatic, or diabetic, or epileptic, it's a good thing for the stage manager to be aware of this, especially if the actor falls ill and treatment is needed or (worse case scenario) an ambulance has to be summoned. (Epilepsy is also an important thing to know about as regards lighting cues - it can mean no strobes and sometimes certain frequencies of light can also be off limits, depending on how photosensitive they are.) Also, law states that we are not permitted to administer any drugs to cast members, so if they think that they're going to have headaches or other things throughout rehearsals, they need to buy themselves a packet of panadol. You may keep the panadol in your props box/bag with the actor's name on it to give to them, but you cannot give them any panadol that you yourself may happen to have in your possession. (Clear as mud? Good.)
At some time around the first rehearsal - before or soon after - you need to arrange to sit down with your director and ask them what they expect and want from you as a stage manager. Every director will have a different style and thus have different things they want you to do. Some are happy for you to just sit in a corner knitting until the performers are off-book (no longer reading from the script as they rehearse), at which point you'll be needed to prompt them if they lose a line. Some may want you to take notes as to entrances and exits (if you've got a set with multiple points of entry this can be crucial - if somebody is meant to be entering Up Stage Right and comes in Down Stage Right it has the potential to really mess things up); some may even want you to do blocking maps for every scene.
( Blocking maps )
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| So you want to be a Stage Manager. (Part 1 of ?) |
[21 Feb 2011|02:01pm] |
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 working |
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Congratulations! You've been selected to stage manage a production.
Now what?
This initial post will deal with practicalities - things you'll need to do and acquire.
( Read more... )
Next entry: First rehearsals and negotiating with your director.
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| Still upright |
[25 Jan 2011|12:04pm] |
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Have been having internet issues at the Coast. Silly little USB broadband stick doesn't seem to like my computer. Such is life.
So I'm still alive and well, as are the furbrats. I'm coming back up tomorrow, only to swan off to Stradbroke on Thursday for my intensive training period with QSE. I *think* I'll be back again next Wednesday morning. Goody.
( Medical/doctor-induced rant cut for those bored of hearing about it. )
The Coast is beautiful, though there seems to be a distinct lack of beach at the moment - just up the road (Mermaid Beach) there's just a vertical scarp about eight feet high that the surf comes right up to at high tide - there's big red flags and bright orange construction mesh up across every entrance from here to the headland.
Oh, The King's Speech and Tangled are fabulous movies that I highly recommend should you wish an excuse to run away from the heat and hide in air conditioned darkness for a couple of hours. And the sweetie shop downstairs from the cinemas at Pac Fair sells real imported caffeinated Irn Bru. It's the little things that make me happy.
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[16 Jan 2011|07:25pm] |
PLEASE PASS THIS ON} URGENT... to save any photographs damaged by flood waters, immerse them in clean fresh water and get them to Inkjet Lab at Bowen Hills ASAP. They will clean, copy and save to disk for you at no charge. How fantastic is ...that!!! Please copy to your status so the word spreads..
from a facebook contact.
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| Status update |
[12 Jan 2011|09:19pm] |
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mood |
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safe |
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As of last night myself, my husband creature, my cats, my Mother Unit and her cats are all safe and sound down the Gold Coast, well out of the way of the Brisbane River system. Shall be here for the duration. If any Brisbane peoples are able to visit once the waters subside enough to allow it, drop me a line. Otherwise stay safe and dry my friends.
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| I want to expose your children to homosexuality |
[27 Dec 2010|11:43am] |
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mood |
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Source. Text here for the link-phobic.
Dear Parents of the World -
There is a phrase used often, when talking about portrayals of homosexuals in the media, by people who say that it's okay for people to be gay in the privacy of their own homes but they don't want to "expose their children to homosexuality". No offence, they say. I just don't want to have to explain boys kissing to my 4-year-old. To some people, it seems like a reasonable request, and you often get your way. Like the censorship of the gay kiss in Katy Perry's Fireworks video in the UK.
On behalf of the gay people of the world, let me say: get over it.
Let's not beat around the bush here. Yes, we want to expose your children to homosexuality. We absolutely do. It's important that we expose your children to homosexuality. But not because it makes us feel better. Not out of some desire to be politically correct, or inclusive. But because it is potentially vital for their psychological well-being.
( Read more... )
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| The morning after the night before |
[25 Dec 2010|11:14am] |
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mood |
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exhausted |
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[Visual descriptive: A white cat lies on its back with its legs splayed and its head on the side. The caption reads: Ceiling Cat overindulged at office Christmas party ...]
Once again, my cats prove that elegance, grace and daintiness are not inherent characteristics of the species ...
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| In Other News |
[23 Dec 2010|10:38pm] |
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mood |
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cheerful |
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[Visual Descriptive: Under a Christmas tree lie a black cat, who is of the Basement, and a white cat, who is off the Ceiling. They both look at the camera as if trying to decide if they can be bothered to move sufficiently to eat the photographer's face. The caption reads "SEASONAL AMNESTY DECLARED" with a subtitle of "Eggnog Suspected".]
(Yes, for those wondering, the cats in question are Mushroom [black] and Jeannie [white], the two who battle daily for my soul.)
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| All I Want For Christmas Are My Two Front Teeth: A Cautionary Tale |
[23 Dec 2010|09:57pm] |
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mood |
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 annoyed |
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Some history first. As a child, I had perfect, A-1 teeth. Never needed any work done at all aside from the bi-annual scaling and yukky tasting toothpaste treatment at the dentist. This pattern held all through my school career and I graduated senior at 16 without having a single piece of metal in my mouth.
I was a gymnast for a fair chunk of my school career, though it must be said that by the time I was 13 and a C-cup it was pretty much set that any higher aspirations I might have weren't going to happen unless I got plastic surgery, and I wasn't about to have plastic surgery. By the time I finished school, I was a DD, with a 36" bust measurement.
The year after I graduated high school, I tripped off merrily to study Musical Theatre. For those just joining us, that's singing, acting and dancing all at once. I weighed 65 kilos and had a 36" bust measurement when semester started at the beginning of February. By Easter that year (my birthday was Good Friday, so the end of March) I weighed 57 kilos, and had a 36" bust measurement. By June of the next year I was down to 47, and still rocking that 36 inches.
Dancing at a tertiary level, you see, is Srs Bsns. Having a 36" bust is not the proper "aesthetic" for a dancer at that level. I received personal talking-tos regarding how I obviously had no respect for my body (the irony; can you taste it), I was publicly weighed and measured, I was repeatedly sent to the nutritionist, and I was ultimately failed - on "aesthetic" and nothing else.
The nutritionist to whom I was sent put me on a diet that would have made Mengele proud. I was allowed steamed vegetables (but no potato, corn or pumpkin), steamed rice, and steamed chicken or fish twice a week. No dairy, no carbohydrates, absolutely no fat, minimal protein.
I supplemented this regime with one of my own - amphetamines and bulimia. (Regular readers are likely already aware of the ongoing repercussions of this.)
That was more than ten years ago.
Today after lunch it felt like there was something stuck between my two upper central incisors. I prodded around with my tongue and this fell on to it:
This isn't the first time something similar has happened in the last decade. My back molars are basically chalk, and crumbling accordingly (though my ongoing reflux probably doesn't help them any). This is the view of the back of my front teeth, as of half an hour ago:
I'm off tomorrow to sit in the waiting room of the Turbot St Dental Hospital. I'll send up red sparks if I feel in need of rescue. (Yes, Nundah is closer, but because of the EDS and TN and SLE and the rest of the alphabet soup, I'm a *special* patient, seen usually by the high heid-yin at Turbot St.)
I guess what I'm trying to say with all of this is, especially if you're a female, or have a daughter, or know anyone of the female persuasion do not ever let her feel bad or be shamed about the way she looks, the shape she is, the person she was, may be, is becoming.
Even little things can fuck you up for a long time.
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| I don't even ... |
[20 Dec 2010|11:22pm] |
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mood |
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empty |
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Dear stepfather.
It's been a week now and I'm still a tad gobsmacked. I just can't quite grasp how you would think comparing my husband to the man who molested me as an adolescent is appropriate post-prandial conversation. (Though I do admit that it's quite possible that despite being a contortionist, I'm incapable of sticking my head that far up my own arse.) That you did it laughingly, and then proceeded to go off on a nostalgia trip about the gentleman in question? True. Class.
Tell me, is this indicative of what you think of my husband, what you think of me, or that you just don't fucking think?
So thanks. Thanks for a week's worth of total sensory recall of that man's face, and that man's voice, and the how that man's hands felt. Thanks for a week of broken sleep, interspersed with bad dreams and night terrors. A week of feeling physically ill 90% of the time. A week of flinching when my husband touches me. A week of being 13 again and full of guilt and shame and doubt and hatred and poison.
It's been a real blast.
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