Over the course of my 43 years of living, I’ve been encouraged several times by several people I respect, to write a book. My experiences in life have been extremely wide ranging, and life altering. I’ve often been told that I’ve been able to survive it because I am tough. I dont know about that, but I can sure tell you that I am well acquainted with grief, and very familiar with heart ache.
The people encouraging me to do that have given me two reasons for writing this vapour ware book. To help me process the history (often violent and painful) thus creating a type of catharsis, and then second to encourage others in the world because if I can do it, well then, someone else can do it too.
Over the course of the last two days as I was pressure washing a driveway, deck, house, stairs, etc I was afforded about eight hours of pure alone time, lost in my thoughts with a set of good quality ear muffs blocking out the sound of a noisy engined gas powered machine jetting out pressurised water at a 40deg dispersion angle. At at the end of the work, I became reacquainted in my memories suddenly with Mr Pete Johnston who was one of those encouraging the book writing. I was and remain weary of putting all my gory details on the web, but if I am happy to write a book – isnt disseminating the history that way essentially the same thing?
I might change the name of this blog as a result to…. The Gamut. You see, I came up with that name in my 20’s for this book because in life, I have literally lived through most every category of pain possible, outside of my children dying before me. And I find that too hard to contemplate for more than a split nano second.
In six days time is my third born daughters first birthday and what pains me greatly is that I have been essentially missing for half her life. Not through my choice mind. No longer am I allowed to see her 24 hours a day, every day. It literally eats me from inside that I cant see that great grin and how her face lights up every time I say Hi to her or when she sees me whenever I want to. Half her life. What an epic #*$&(# mess. I feel absolutely horrible for my daughters. So innocent, so pure, so beautiful. Subject to this horse shit, subject to their parents crap. I’ll say this out loud – this is not putting our children’s needs first. This is putting parental crap first and that is an absolute crime that our children do not need nor deserve. Not what I had envisaged when I made my children with my partner, Jillian. Am I pining for my kids and family unit? That question needs no answer.