Happy 48th anniversary to my parents today. The adoptives.
Not that they’re on the internet all that much, but just a thing for the day.
Isolation
As well as the digital detox, I’m trying to depend on my friends less. I’m not in their face all the time, but I lean on them. More than I should.
Another case of the imposter syndrome.
But, productive in some ways today. Stayed off Facebook and Insta again. My fingers were less itchy than yesterday lol.
Booked a shrink appointment. Two weeks away, so it aligns with my pay cycle, so I’m not broke paying for the thing before waiting for the Medicare rebate. And also sent an email to Fringe asking what sort of application they want for the reviewer.
It’s a volunteer thing, but I want to apply for it as if it’s real.
And now watching Lost in Translation. I remember this as a love letter to Tokyo and early Scarlett Johansson. Was basically the inspiration for wanting to get to Japan as my next major international trip.
I can’t remember much of the actual plot, but it’s the vibe of the thing. That dislocation of hotel living. The utter beauty of the endless cityscape.
Blade Runner in reality.
Digital Detox
Sooooo, I’m trying a detox. Primarily of Facebook and Instagram, because that’s where I tend to spend too much of my down time.
But, only hoping to get through a week, because that will then dovetail nicely into November and my Christmas card sending season.
And may have gotten a new mental health plan from my GP to have another go around with a shrink. The last therapy I had, at the latter part of last year petered out because the shrink I was getting on really well with left the practice.
On the new referral, the term PTSD. Which is the first time that term has been used on any of my paperwork, as far as I know. I feel a sense of imposter syndrome about it, the abuse happened when I was an infant, so there will never be any memory of it. But from all that I’ve read, it’s a real thing. It has echoed and impacted on my life all through the decades since.
It’s a preventative measure. Going to the shrink. It’s not a failure. It’s not. I resisted my doc trying to pour medication down my throat, so there was that.
Ideation is NOT planning. It’s a whole other ballpark, it’s a whole other sport.
It’s usually winter when I get tetchy like this. Summer is Christmas and Fringe. But I’m not yet terribly excited by either. And, you know, rearranging my life this month, which why not lol.
I made it an entire twenty one hours without the socials. Yay.
Messenger doesn’t count.
Thats like texting.
Horror
Netflix of the night, Cabin in the Woods.
Haven’t seen it before, but I kinda know the main twist already.
Nostalgia
Another personal anniversary today.
1993, my attempted overdose
In so many alternate timelines and dimensions, I didn’t make it.
Imagine a world without me. Especially the last couple of years, when I’ve finally blossomed, I’ve finally thought myself worthy.
Repercussions
He listed everything that had gone wrong last year. Privacy, not spilling, but it was quite brutal.
“So, yeah, Christmas was quite bleak. Your Christmas card was pretty much the brightest spot.”
Oh. My heart. ❤️
How many random acts of kindness have I done over the last forty years? Sending hundreds of Christmas cards and postcards. Saying thank you to the bus drivers (no surprises, I’m one of Those People).
Taking friends to my favourite hole in the wall restaurants, my favourite cocktail bars. Even sharing my holiday photos, especially from the art galleries.
My smile. My hugs. My laughs. All the things that I do and almost immediately forget about.
Which hopefully more than makes up for the self destructiveness, the awful relationship and friendship breakdowns, the selfishness before age twenty five. Okay, age thirty five. 😆
“Don’t put yourself down, Paul. You’re allowed to be proud and big note when you do good.” Actual line Brisbane bestie said yesterday, when I was my usual minimalist on myself.
And I could have died at three months. Or even if I survived and stayed where I was, bashed or neglected and being an absolute shell of the person I am now.
And I think of the doctors, the police, the barristers, the social workers, everyone who wanted to keep me alive. MY PARENTS. The Real ones.
My heart breaks. My eyes leak. This has gone off the perfectly written rails I had planned, but I’ve processed this tiny part of the story enough that I’m writing about it. Even if badly.
😭❤️😭❤️😭
Queensland Truths
1. You guys are fucking awesome.
2. Gin is amazing.
3. Beenleigh is a long way away from the city.
Vomit
Brisbane bestie – “You know, fractured skull and seven fractured ribs. That’s more than just a fall off a table.”
That sound? The penny dropping, after 42 years.
I always thought I was ‘just’ neglected.
It doesn’t count if I can’t remember it, right?
Triggers
*This is the start of My Story. From a newspaper clipping that I first saw only three days ago, in that chocolate box of papers my parents had. This is not any of the birth sibling’s story, told in Melbourne. I’m still figuring all that out.
Trigger warnings galore*
The Nelson Evening Mail, September 15 1976
From The Courts
Commune pair guilty of neglecting baby
A young couple whose child was described by doctors as grossly malnourished and chronically ill, appeared before Mr K.H.J. Headifen, SM, in the Nelson Magistrate’s Court yesterday.
[mother], 23, and [father], 21, timber worker, had pleaded not guilty to a charge of wilfully neglecting an un-named child aged four months in a manner likely to cause unnecessary suffering and injury to health.
The couple admitted failing to register the child within two months of its birth.
Mr Headifen found the defendants guilty of wilfully neglecting their child, and remanded them for a probation report and sentence until September 20. Bail was allowed at $200 for both defendants.
On the charge of failing to register a birth they were convicted and discharged. Mr E.P. McNabb, who appeared for the defendants, said the birth had been recorded that morning.
Summing up, Mr Headifen said the facts were not greatly in dispute. The essence of the case was the establishment of the word “wilful” in the evidence.
He said the main problem was that the prosecution was required to show that the acts done were wilful.
Quite clear
“It is quite clear that the defendants must have been aware of the child’s condition. They admitted that there was little or no breast milk for it, and that the skull had been fractured, and that they still allowed it to continue. That puts it into a deliberate course of conduct,” he said.
Mr Headifen said the defendants were entitled to their own views on life, subject to them complying with the law of the land.
“However the law also imposes a duty for people to care properly for children born to them. It matters little what attitudes they adopt once they fail to accept that duty,” he said.
Mr Headifen said he found it surprising that the group the defendants were living with became so concerned for the child.
“This is not the judgement of normal members of the community, but people who shared the same attitudes as the defendants. Even these people became worried about the child,” he said.
“It must have been noticeable to the defendants had they wished to really see the situation. They knew the child was not getting enough milk. But if the supply diminished and the child became malnourished it is wilful neglect to allow that situation to continue,” he said.
Dr David Graham Carroll, pediatrician, said he examined the baby on August 6. He was 3.5kg in weight, and 53cm long. He was grossly malnourished.
Fractures
Dr Arthur William Roe, senior pediatrician, said the baby was a chronically ill, malnourished baby. He had a fractured skull and seven fractured ribs.
He interviewed the parents on August 16 and they did not seem to realise the seriousness of the matter. They were irrational and immature and ignorant of child care.
[father] said he had felt the fracture to the skull but did not feel it necessary to seek advice.
They seemed to believe that the western world encouraged weakness and hence it was important to toughen the baby.
[father] said that he and [mother] had not had adequate food for the last few months. He was working, but all the food in the house had to be shared.
He knew the baby was not getting a good balance but he was quite pleased with its health.
After the skull fracture he did not take the baby to a doctor because he knew bones healed and the baby was going to be lying still. The baby showed no signs of ill effect.
[mother] said she was the mother of the child. When she and [father] went to the commune in Annesbrook Drive they were all in a low state. They had been fasting for about a week, but picked up again.
She said she was concerned about the size of the child. It was small and she would have liked it to be bigger. She said she and [father] looked after the child and did not want to get outside assistance.
If she had realised her baby was underweight she would have fed him more. When he was weighed at the hospital his weight was well below all the charts.
The defendant said she and [father] were very concerned about the health of their baby, and thought him to be well. She could not believe that everyone thought he was under weight. That was why she went to the hospital because she wanted to prove that her baby was all right.
After the baby had fallen off the table, someone picked him up and comforted him. He did not appear to be unduly upset or injured.
[mother] asked what could have been done anyway. The body healed itself, she said. He looked well except his head swelled up.
Under cross-examination by Sgt R.E. Edie she said the baby did not receive any medical treatment as a result of the fall. She and [father] put energy into the baby by holding his head and touching the swelling.
She said she did not think medical treatment was necessary, and that if they had more money she would have been able to feed her child to her satisfaction.
She said [father] was earning money but there was not enough for everyone at the commune to eat well.
Womp womp
Still processing.
Still can’t put this thing into actual words. Each time I think I’m getting a handle on it, another penny drops, another long held belief morphs into something more ethereal, and I’m chasing my tail again.
We’ll try again tomorrow.
hashtag words of paul 