I love you more, too.

"I love you", I said.

"I love you more", she always replied.

We always loved each other equally. I never understood the "more". I always smiled and replied "Lies", and we laughed. We loved, from beginning to end. 

It wasn't until a random video scrolled past with someone saying, "When I say I love you more, I don't just mean I love you more than you love me. I love you more than the bad days ahead of us."

On it went. Really beautiful and it truly clicked. I loved you more than the pain of watching you die. I loved you more than the impact of seeing your body collapse around you. I loved you more than running when you were holding my hand and you said "I can't see anymore". I loved you more than freezing knowing that was because you were shutting down. I loved you more than running when I couldn't cope, and that was a lot. I loved you more than the fight to be there for you due to the very practical reason of life and work. I fought for you because I loved you more than the fight. 

I love you more, too.  

1250pm

 I kept my head busy today. All day. Without a break. Watching videos on Youtube and Facebook. I just couldn't let my brain free from influence. I knew why. Of course, as the universe is, it punches you in the face saying "I know what you're fucking doing. Face it". So on comes this video from a TV show with this old man sitting with his passed-away wife and the doctor comes in. "1622", says the old man. "I'm sorry?" says the doctor. "It's when she passed".

I burst. Tears streaming down my face. "Fuck you", I say to the universe. "I had it under control", knowing the universe knows your truth and your lies. I'm dreading going to bed. I woke at 0500 knowing at some point today I have to go to bed where my mind rules until sleep takes hold. 

1250pm. My first birthday alone. 

Are you free?

I had a moment last night. The feelings of hugging Tracy came back when I looked at her ashes. That plastic box of ash is her. It is the girl I danced for while she was in the toilet. It's the girl that I sang duets with. It is the girl who trusted me with her life unconditionally. I have this overwhelming need to set her free. There are plans for that, but I don't have the ability to achieve that for her right now. It completely broke me. Sorry, I'm struggling today. That is what I'm doing.

 SO were you.

Some people read my last post so I thought I'd update.

Tracy moved on with the angels last Wednesday the 6th July. 

<3

"You were a wonderful partner"

 I can't talk about this on my normal socials yet, so my anonymous Blogger gets it.

Tracy finally called it. She formally requested palliative to step in yesterday and thankfully I got there super fucking early. I got much of the morning with her by myself but at some point we had to say good bye.

Her last words to me were "You were a wonderful partner". It broke me, and still does thinking about it. I am not okay and I can't talk to anyone I don't contact outside of Facebook, short of family and close friends due to the wishes of her mother. But you know how close you can get to people you've never met. It's weird that way. I need them.

She's comfortable now and sedated. Just waiting for her to pass.  

I am not okay. 

 

While I scream for God's attention my demons laugh and wait.

 I struggle with life.

Most think it's where I'm at,

It isn't,

It's where I'm going. 

What do I have to offer,

What am I lacking,

To be me.

I see my future.

I can describe what it looks like.

It's a massive blank sheet with nothing written on it.

It's a snow storm in my mind.

It's quiet.

It's cold. 

No sound is getting through,

From the echoes of my dreams,

My screams into the distance,

Pleading for purpose,

For destination.

There's no return,

Like a sonar never touching mass.  

Like a dove,

Never finding land.

Did it drown,

In the futility,

Of effort.

Is it happy,

Somewhere,

With someone,

That found me,

Screaming into their own distance.

Did their sonar,

Find mine,

Losing the echo,

In purpose,

And embrace.

I hope.

I hope.

The gift of time

 Time is a gift we give and are given that we can't take back. A moment with a stranger can change you for the rest of the time you are given by life.

Grasp the value of time someone chooses to give you being the one they want to gift the most. It's breathtaking.

My Picture.

 When we are young and we meet someone new we sketch a picture of ourselves and hand it to them. Most of the time it doesn't matter if they like it or not. Over time we fill in the details of those sketches and look for approval as we go. We start to use colour and admit vulnerabilities and mistakes and try and erase or sketch over those things in an attempt to improve our image we gave to them. Sometimes our attempt at redrawing makes it worse and that person scrunches up your picture and throws it away. Sometimes those attempts at improving our picture or changing our mistakes are met with: 

"It's okay, my picture isn't perfect either and I see what you're trying to do. Keep trying. It's okay.". We are grateful for that understanding.

Many times the person held your picture for a long time it becomes too familiar and someone else is drawing a picture they like more or it's new and fresh and they need that change to aid themselves in improving their own picture. Sometimes the redrawing of their own picture begins to get filled with mistake after mistake and they've forgotten your picture in the focus of their own. 

"What's wrong with my picture?" you ask yourself. "I try to draw a nice picture and hand it out. I try really hard. It's not perfect but there are some really good parts, like here, and here, and here. Why don't you like my picture anymore? What is wrong with my picture?" as you forget everyone is drawing their own still. Sometimes they are so focused on their own they don't have the time for your picture. Sometimes they never really saw it. They glanced over it without allowing the time to see what's really there. Sometimes the picture is too detailed and difficult to grasp. Sometimes the picture just isn't their taste, and that's okay. You don't love everyone else's.

One day we realise we need to stop drawing pictures to hand out. "I'm tired of drawing pictures to please others" you say to yourself. SO you begin to craft a picture for yourself. You see your mistakes in other pictures you made. "Yeah, this mistake was mine, but it's part of my picture and I think it needs to stay. It's a mistake I can't fix but it's part of me. I accept the other mistakes too. Here are my wins. Here are my vulnerabilities. Here are my good parts."

You look at your picture and say: "Yes, that's me, but I'm not giving it away from now. Anyone I meet will see me hold up my picture and that's fine if they don't like it, appreciate it, or want to spend any time with it. Sure, there are coming mistakes and changes I don't know about, but see, I left a lot of blank space to fill in later when the need arises. I learnt from running out of space in my other pictures. It's me. I like it. I hope you do too".  

Pete.

The nature of love is self-abandonment...

Expanding on a line from The Dream of Life by Alan Watts. 

If the nature of love is self-abandonment. Then the journey of love is the enlightenment of human nature. The result of love is the learning of yourself. The rejection of love is the trail back to self. The loss of love is the path to the fear of self-abandonment.

Looking for permission

 Some of you guys know me personally and I post this as a way of saying it, without actually saying it to my wider group of friends, family, and acquaintances. Much love to you all, and thank you for your unspoken love and support.

Tracy's decided she's had enough. She hasn't decided to stop taking her meds yet, but it feels like a matter of time. I've always said she gets to make that choice at some stage and until then she has to fight on. She's beaten things no one has but she knows she's at a point of no bouncing back now. She's beaten. It doesn't help her doctors have given up (it seems) and she's an incredibly intelligent woman who can see it. Things are getting more and more tough for her every day.

It's obviously incredibly traumatic and you HAVE TO step back mentally a bit or you'll break down right beside her. I can see her fighting inside herself to make these choices and I found her the other night just sitting in the dark and I said to her "Are you just contemplating life, hun?". She just said yes. As tough as it is to step back mentally from her you can see she's going through the same trauma deciding to let go from us. I obviously don't have any idea on where we go from here and how this will come about, but I think mentally, the choices have been made. She talks about it a bit and you can see her looking for permission, I guess. 

I obviously can't plant the seed of suggesting she stops her meds as it's such a dramatic and universe altering statement of granting permission it's a conclusion she needs to make for herself. She will, at some point. She needs to make that for herself, and she will get that support when it comes about. It's incredibly hard to not wear that personally and that's load you wish you could take from her. It's mercy for her, of course, and you need ..... okay ....I .... need to accept as made out of love. It's tough though. Incredibly tough.

<3

unread

 Texts.

Hi hun, how are you doing today?

You there? 

Let me know how you're doing when you can.

'unread'

Next Day.

Morning beautiful. How you feeling?

'unread'

Next Day.

Morning. 

'unread'

Next Day.

I miss you.

'unread'

Next Day.

Sounds like the treatment went okay. How you feeling?

'unread'

Your mum messaged me and said you weren't doing well. You need me?

'unread'

I need you.

'unread'

I need us.

'unread'

Next Day. 

Next Day.

Next Day.

OMG Thanks for messaging. How you doing? I miss you. I love you.

'unread'

You miss the basics the most. 

The Future is 2020 Hindsight

I can't tell you how many posts I've written and haven't published. Maybe I will just hit that switch on them one day and never look back at this. They've been therapy for me to put down but you do struggle with being too honest on the internet. To take that mask off, so to speak. That mask is more than just for others. It's for you, to cope. It's a barrier not just to others, but it's a barrier of denial to cope on days when you just can't.

While everyone is wishing HAPPY NEW YEAR and MAY NEXT YEAR BE YOUR BEST, I know the worst year of my life is imminent. My New Year is topped with sadness and dread. You love and appreciate what you've got but you know what you love and appreciate will be lost.

Tracy is sick. I don't want to go into details. She is battered but not beaten. I don't think she knows how to give up and we don't allow it. ANYONE else would've swallowed a bucket of pills and been done with it by now. She does get to make that call one day, and I'll be laying in the bed beside her holding her. But to be honest and truthful, the reaper will have to come for her. She won't ever punch that ticket.

Let me tell you a secret. Blogger. I'm going to marry her before I lose her. There really is a panic in me to make that happen. I don't know how and it can't be legally binding due to her status for care, but just a promise under God. I need that to happen. Soon.

I will show you that later. After.

I lost a confidant. They slinked away. I do understand, but it hurts. It's a real loss to my spirit. Everyone says they will be there, but it's too heavy for most. That why people do it professionally. There's a need. I do understand why they closed the door, but it's like losing access to hope. This is why this post is here, I think.

Thank you for listening.

Melancholy and The Infinite Sadness

These blogs are heading in a certain direction, aren't they? lol It's cheaper than therapy.

In the last episode things were pretty crazy last year. Now things are okay, but not. I'm not sure how I'm going to write this considering I don't know what I going to write.

You go through the day being okay. Really and truly. You're busy. There's things to do. There's a quick coffee to be had before you HAVE to get going. There's traffic to beat. There's times to be at places and so much work to do. You enjoy the people you're around. You have a laugh. You bitch and moan and occasionally stir someone. You enjoy your day, on the whole. You really do.

Alarms never break my sleep. Ever. I haven't been woken by the alarm in months. I'm awake as the dark is leaving. Caffeine, sugar, windows wound down at 100kmph, and busy, keeps shut down at bay. Constant headaches. Con. Stant. I go through an unbelievable amount of codeine. If I'm going to be honest with myself, 2/3's of what I take are to chill. I want to use the word numb. But it isn't. It's to chill. It's to feel warm and fuzzy and okay. It's to feel that fire place and the sheep skin rug on a rainy cold freezing arse day at the bottom of New Zealand at mum and dad's place when I was a kid. It's that feeling. It's to sleep. It's to recharge while the sun's gone because when it even hints at coming back, I'm awake.

I am okay, I think.

I try to keep my brain busy when I get home from work. I do genuinely care for others. I worry about others. I see an apparent injustice and I point and wave at that injustice and demands others do too. I demand you share my dismay at these injustices. Why can't you see the extent of this injustice as I do? I go looking for more and more people who experience these injustices and shove them in your face demanding you share my point of view.

For that, I apologise. My brain gets carried away. My brain doesn't stop doing brain things. It's over stimulated and understimulated at the same time. It's stimulated by artificial busyness. If it stops being busy it hits dead air.

Dead air is where the melancholy and the infinite sadness lives. It's seeing Tracy curled like a ball on her chair. It's seeing sickness creeping on her like a slow moving tidal wave of mud. Nothing can stop that mud. It's the tears that stream down my face watching her having gone from the vibrant woman I met to sick frail old lady looking fiance. It's that sinking feeling of despair and sadness that comes over me like it came from a bucket above my head.

Today we're off to palliative care for her pain med management.

Next week we get her wheelchair.

No idea what comes the week after that.

Fear, Dread, and that damn Black Dog.

Life's a funny old thing. Just when you think you've got your shit together the old rug gets pulled out from under you.

I have been dealing with Tracy's illness for a long time and apart from the fear and dread you expect, you kinda find a way to deal with it. It's definitely easier when most other parts of your life are in check and running smoothly enough. With coming across a lot of homeless people in the day to day dealings of working in the city you come to understand how fragile the mind really is. All it takes is a few of the major moons and planets that balance your universe to become misaligned to affect the tides and amount of sun, rain, storms, and darkness.

Earlier this year Tracy got VERY sick. She wound up on life support for four days and the impact of initially walking into the room never leaves you. It really is a shock. A jolt. A fright. You're unknowingly left traumatised from what is best described as an injury to your psyche.

The Moon:

Work became out of sorts for me lately. I walked into work one Monday - about a month ago - and found out the job I've been doing for four and a half years is no longer mine. They put me into another area with promises of helping me to keep pursuing my career direction ... by not helping me keep pursuing my career direction. More and more I'm being pulled away from my choices.

The Sun:

What became apparent with Tracy's uh ... turn .. - for the want of a better description - earlier this year is that apart from her on-going issues there's a new one involved that is causing her body to attack muscles in an incredibly debilitating way. She was in hospital this week for treatment for it, and for some reason, this time, it hit me hard. I really don't if it's a hangover from that 'injury to the psyche' earlier this year, but I found myself incapacitated.

You think stupid things occasionally, but feeling the want to drive in to an on-coming truck really is a scary thing. It's not something I would ever do, and the moment I thought it I realised something was up. I pulled over. Got my shit together. And headed for work. I bypassed the usual ritual, and headed straight for HR.

"I'm not well. I need help."

Things feel out of control within myself. It's weird. I look like I always have, and kinda act like I always have. I function. I can pay my bills. But there's this ... thing ... on my shoulder. Panic, fear, dread and sadness, are its personalities. It's an inability to handle stressful situations, unlike how I've always been able to. I've always been armed with tools to handle stress. I can only do so much. I will give it my best, but if I fall short I know it was from things out of my control. I can justify why I fell short, and it wasn't from lack of professionalism and effort.

Work hard. Think straight.

Now it's panic, anger, fear, and frustration all rule with stress.

Fuck it.

I have a plan. A plan to shift that fucking Moon back into position. So why can't I follow through on it? Why can't I just DO IT???

I'm scared of work now, where it was my place to get my teeth into something I really did enjoy. It was a distraction from Tracy's on-going issues and things were in place within myself to handle whatever Tracy's body threw at us.

Now, it's an avalanche. Now things are too heavy. Now I'm weighed down.

I'm off work this week. HR and my boss gave me the week to try and figure things out. I have to ring tomorrow to let them know where I'm at. I'm scared shitless.

Just do it.

The VLAD Offensive

The fundamental attack on your basic human rights and absolute destruction of democratic law by the Newman government in Queensland with the complicity of the Queensland Police Service, judges, and media, serves as a warning to you that your vision of a democratic and free society is an absolute illusion.

The offensive condescension by the complicit media in the continual usage of the term "bikie law" is a slap in the face of anyone with half a brain. At no point in the VLAD legislation are you and I clearly separated from "outlaw gangs" and at no point does it state that you and I are free from being targeted if and any point we decide to stand up and be counted with our hand in the air screaming injustice.

The violation of rights of these Queensland constituents before and during incarceration is tantamount to crimes against humanity.

I have never been so offended, sickened, dismayed, angry, and sad, at the actions of a so called democratic government as I am with this travesty of a government and law.

Shame, to those involved. What an offensive legacy.

Some honesty with myself.

I'm basically a professional offsider, and I have a run that's mine. I get various drivers. I wrote this a month or so back, and put it on Facebook. It really was just for me and I guess a way to tell people close to me what was going on with me at the time. Things have changed for the better since then, apart from anxiety I get occasionally. And that's really just a result of who I might be with. I don't go well with some drivers of my truck.

I'm reprinting what I wrote here because I got a great response from random people on FB. Even from some top ranking people in public service who deal with real horror. And have for a long time.

We had an accident at work a few weeks back. A guy on a motorbike made a really bad decision and was devastatingly hurt under the truck. He is apparently okay, but weirdly, it has stuck with me.

My logic says he's fine apart from a long road of healing but for some reason it has stuck with like a big splinter festering away. It's odd, my logic and reason has perspective and wants to file it away as finished and dealt with. But for some reason the mind doesn't accept this and it manifests in anxiety and sleeplessness. I'm like a cricket in the truck. It's frustrating.

The incident was horrible and the sounds were something I hadn't heard before. It stuck like watching something die. He was broken, skinned to the muscle and bone, his bowels released, and there was nothing anyone could do to help. It's over and that moment passed. But it's like an emotional echo.

So this is another step in exorcising that demon in an attempt to slot reason, logic, and mind into one harmonious thing. Hope this helps....

And I hope it helps someone else.

To Whom It May Concern

To whom it may concern,

I'm just writing regarding an enquiry I made for a dog wheelchair from your company some weeks ago.

Not 100% sure - okay, I'm 0% sure - why I haven't heard back after being quoted $600 (not including postage) and after sending measurements with multiple phone calls and emails. I believe the measurements were slightly off, and that was the last I heard. I was more than happy to re-measure, then buy a chair due to the declining health of my much loved Dalmation, Wrinkles.

At this point I must contend I am not a business owner and with that in mind I have no idea how to actually run a business. Having said that, I am a consumer, and have been purchasing stuff for almost forty years ... excluding the first say ... five ...  where my mum wouldn't let me go shopping on my own and funding for lollies was really at a minimum. BUT, when I did get money for lollies and was old enough to walk to the shop on my own I bought things, beginning my consumer career.

Sometimes the shop keeper was a crotchety old prick, and really, in hindsight, $2 in $0.01c lollies probably would've pissed me off too. I guess that's why he started going by weight and then he made bags up for like $0.50c. Genius really, and business foresight. He had a product, saw a need, got the shits, found a solution, and still made money. You don't need to be David Koch (Kochie, off that silly morning show that handles the financial stuff for people too stupid to figure it out for themselves) grasp the basics of business in situation like that.

Even me, a consumer, not a business owner, managed to get all the synapses in my brain firing hard enough to get it. Good lesson really, and is still applicable today. Which brings me back to you.

Thank you for not replying to any of my emails or calls in anticipation of happily handing you $600 plus postage for a chair.  Thank you, because you losing my business resulted in me looking a fraction harder from necessity due to my dog being unable to shit outside and peeing himself on the floor. My back problems were a MAJOR issue because he weighs around 35k's so I had to hold him up with a towel under his belly so HE could aid ME in getting him to the toilet. He was just as uncomfortable as I was with going 'potty' inside all over himself.

THANK YOU, because I found a lovely lady who sold her second hand chair for $200. 

Wrinkles is actually improving day by day. On a good day he can walk himself out to the toilet a few times. The other times we use the $200 chair. Sure, we have to help, but he's happy, and so are we. We saved a few hundred dollars, met a lovely lady, and got some of the personality of our much loved and adored dog back.

Thanks again, 

Talon Fotografika

Working on a 'professional' photographic portfolio for my various random shots.

Thought I might share the initial development with you guys. Still a work in progress.

Please click ---> Talon Fotografika