How many puppies are there inside?

My parents have money. A lot of money but that’s not surprising when you deny yourself and kids of everything.

For a whole year I was obsessed with wanting to be the owner of a puppy surprise dog. Lots of kids had one of these.

I was at Amy Minogue’s birthday party when I got up close to one. The poor mummy dog though was tossed to the side while the puppies were lined up neatly watching the television.

I thought that if I had one my life would be set. I’d need nothing more. This was the answer and the key to my happiness. Here Amy was with the definition of happiness and she wasn’t tending to the needs of the mother puppy who had just given birth. I was fuming.

How could someone with no respect have these precious little puppies and their mum under their care. For months I stewed over the mistreatment. I should have dog-napped them when I had the chance.

Fast forward to the present and I am finally getting my precious puppies and their mother. I’d been searching on ebay for months trying to find the perfect one but it’s not a surprise if you know how many puppies are inside. It was all very disheartening.

My Ellie pup has gotten herself into some strike. She left her milkshake in the yard, the boys came and then she became pregnant. Apart from not knowing the father of her new unborn babies, Ellie didn’t know how many precious little bundles of joy she would be welcoming into the world.

After meeting Ellie I performed the all important c-section. Carefully I pulled apart the Velcro. There was one, two, three little puppy heads. Ellie was doing well under the circumstances.

With a sigh of relief I took the last puppy from her. She is now sitting with her puppies, warm and comfortable and watching television. I’m worried about how I keep Ellie and her babies away from my redneck-torture-children. I don’t want to have to lock her in the cupboard but I might have to.

These types of things aren’t the type of things you tell your mental health people about. They scribble really fast on their notepads when you say things like this.

I totally have a puppy surprise! This feels all too exciting. Next toy want is those McDonald foods that transformers.

I sure am proud of Ellie and her pretty puppies.

Running on a broken leg

I can pick up on the most subtle of emotions. Sounds like a super power but the curse is that I take someone’s frustration as rage.

I have lived through each day with the help of many years of people watching. My medication regime however lets me experience a little bit more of a range. Most people might have 100 versions of anger. If you have 100 I’d have to say that I only have 20 (much more than I had with no meds).

The other part of the curse is that when I meet someone, I either love or hate. First impressions are big for me. I always look for the pressure point in people. Everyone is insecure about something. Usually people have a big one and two smaller ones. I need to know this so that if I’m hurt I can press those buttons if I need to. There are people who I can’t read this way though. I tend to avoid these people. I’m super easy to hurt and without the button to press I’m vulnerable. I’m standing naked in the snow.

I don’t like that I do this and even when I consciously scream at myself to not do it I can’t help it. If someone throws a ball at you, you will instinctively go to catch it with your dominate hand. Yes, you can teach yourself to catch the ball instinctively with the other hand but it takes a fuckload of practice.

I can rewire any part if I concentrate enough. One thing. Many decades.

The problem is what do you change when you live in a world that requires you to change everything?

For me to change it all it would be like you speaking in Latin during the day and German by night. Brushing your teeth with your non dominate hand, driving a manual car when you have for years only driven an automatic. It’s having to teach yourself to walk everywhere without sight. Hear sounds that are miles away. Running a race with your foot in a cast, describing a scenery you’ve never seen.

Now, try doing all these things at the same time while going to work, being a parent, wife and trying to find yourself even through you’ve never known yourself.

I get exhausted from this. Every single day is hard for me. I don’t want to be exposed for the monster I am so I mask it with behaviour I’ve seen over the years. I know from all my people watching that I’m not like you and you’d be frightened if I showed you the real monster. You’d hide under your blankets and chant to yourself that the monster isn’t real. But the monster is.

 

Abuse came to the birthday party

“So, what’s this kid look like?”

“Um, he doesn’t have any freckles”

This was the description I got from my son as I waited for one of his party guests to turn up. He didn’t turn up until half way through the party with his dad in tow.

His dad introduced himself to me and I instantly disliked this man. I grew up with monsters and know what they look like. I knew he was a monster as he shook my hand and apologised for being late. As the party progressed I began to have grave concerns for the boy with no freckles. Dad wasn’t in the room but he kept repeating the word ‘willy’ over and over again.

It got weirder though as he chased some of the boys trying to pull down their pants. After dropping off a party guest I turned to my husband, drew in a big breathe and said what we were both thinking.

“That boy isn’t okay. This needs to be reported.”

We asked Rory one or two more questions about his behaviour. This further cementing our suspicions.

I know the world is full of bad people but meeting the boy without freckles I couldn’t imagine anybody even entertaining the idea of hurting him. How could anybody hurt this boy with soft sad eyes with a smile that creeps up only on one side.

I sat in my boss’ office today and relayed the story to her. “If this is what I think it is, this little boys life is ruined”

They say that this is a big part of the puzzle that now means they can do something. It had to wait until I noticed him at the party? WTF!

I don’t understand how you turn your back thinking that oh, this isn’t any of my business.

I still remember staying with my sister and her boyfriend one time and them just sitting doing nothing as the boy next door was crying from being beaten. They listened. They did nothing. They sat and fucking listened.

They were frightened to say anything and these people would know who called the police and make their lives hell. That thought process isn’t good enough. It’s not about you but it’s about showing a kid that they are worth standing up for.

So, what would you do? There is only one answer I’m willing to accept.

This boy is already damaged and has the potential to keep the cycle going. So, if you can’t think of the boy with no freckles needing love, support and to be saved then think about your daughter dating the boy with no freckles. Does that change anything?

Kill them all; what a fantastic idea!

Using her two measly index fingers to type, Hayley flies across the keyboard quickly and accurately.

Hayley is fresh meat to the medical world. Thick wavy brown hair pulled back, her eyebrows perfectly shaped and framing her kind chocolate coloured eyes.

The most remarkable things about this woman has to be her smile. It’s hypnotic and the most genuine warm smile that I have ever seen. It’s a smile that clings onto the lips like breadcrumbs.

“If my plane goes down I’m fucked,” I said this more to myself. Instantly the thrashing of the keys stopped and she turned to analyse me. Her gaze fixated on my mouth as though this would help her to understand the foreign language I was seemingly speaking in.

Her eyebrows unfurl as she plays it cool and asks me what I mean.

“I’m in a plane and the engine shits itself and we dive straight into an island. Like Lost. Say I lose my glasses and medication I am truly fucked.”

“Yeah, you would be”

I take a colourful cocktail of 14 pills a day, One does this, another does that. I often would find that getting two scripts filled at the same time always meant a concerned pharmacist coming up to you, patting you on the arm and speaking slowly. “I don’t think your doctor has prescribed the correct medicine.”

Every. Single. Time. I used to take my psychiatrists scripts in but it got to the point where nobody could read his writing so I get my GP to do them all in one big shot.

I know my medication schedule well. I know why I take things, when I take them and what it means to not take them.

Earlier this year I moved to employing a pharmacy to manage my medication. I was finding that I was leaving it too late and then realising at some stupid time that I didn’t have another script and I’d completely run out.

One of the things I am reminded of constantly is that the absence of even one of these will make me both severely physically and mentally ill.

The pharmacy fucked up. I did a whole week without a pill. When you take as many as I do you don’t notice that it’s missing.

I had a constant jackhammer in my head, I felt like I was going to pass out, I was shaking and thinking some insane shit.

I was convinced that bludgeoning seven people to death and then setting their house on fire to make sure they were dead was a good idea. I knew how to do it and I’d even come up with a plan to lay-low by covering my car with a protector. They’d be looking for a green Mazda 2 not a covered car that doesn’t reveal its identity.

I couldn’t make it to Mildura to sort my sister out so I’d just take her precious mummy and daddy and leave her with nothing.

When I’m unwell I think this type of stuff is the greatest fucking idea I’ve ever had. I think about the good in the world I’d be doing in taking these people out.

I am very scared of ever missing a med. It’s dangerous and I feel really sick. It’s what I’d imagine coming off heroin would be like.

Imagine how exciting a character like me without glasses and meds would be on Lost. Tantalising drama at its best.