Friday, August 25, 2006

Where have the Glamorouse Women gone?

In case you're wondering, Kim is playing over here at All Consuming and Bec is reclining in The Ladies Lounge. And yes, your Glamour Mums still love each other very much, but it's hard work being non-stop sex goddesses, celebrity chefs, five-star generals and international maternity idols so sometimes we just need a little time to think our own thoughts. So come visit, and feel free to update your blogroll, too! mtc Bec


Saturday, August 12, 2006

seems silly to leave this lovely template to go to waste!

You Passed 8th Grade US History
Congratulations, you got 6/8 correct!
Could You Pass 8th Grade History?

And who wouldn't brag about passing 8th grade US history?

mtc bec (otherwise at The Ladies Lounge)


Tuesday, August 01, 2006

I'm playing over here for a while.


Tuesday, July 11, 2006


it's been a while. Obviously. Glam has been sort of sitting here, staring at me for the last few weeks. Basically we've come unstuck. Bec and I are trying to decide what to do - regroup or shift to our own respective corners of blogdom. I know we'll reach a decision when we both aren't manic with life, trying to move house, parent, work, blah blah blah and actually talk to each other (as opposed to random text messages to assure each other we are alive and hey, what about you over there?) Apart from that I'm playing at being boss at work... and it's fun! I'm on my second round of magic pills and these ones seem to work a whole lot better although the jaw-clenching is still relentless but hell, if that's the trade-off for no more anxiety attacks, I'll take the dull toothache. And life is OK. There are two dogs in my world now who insist on pissing and pooing on the floor regardless of how long I stand out in our increasingly destroyed backyard with them saying "wee?" "Wee?" "WEE?". They are very cute and fight with each other so much it makes me laugh. And that, on anyone's scoresheet is a good thing. The boys are great, my husband is a media star (today's SMH's Good Living peoples - and I still need a haircut. My legs are, however, waxed. Small miracles. And I am OK. Thank you to all of you for your words of encouragement and support. K


Wednesday, June 21, 2006


Things I've noticed of late: - I really really REALLY hate anxiety attacks. They suck big time. - The irony of drugs that are meant to make you feel better making you feel way shittier for oh A WHOLE FUCKING MONTH is only kinda amusing for oh, a DAY. Tops. - This morning was the first morning in close to a month I woke up a) not shaking b) not completely nauseous - just slightly and c) not totally a bazillion per cent in the grip of an anxiety attack. I'm yet to view this with any level of excitement/thank CHRIST/insert any other expression conveying a sense of of PEACE. - the moon last week was absolutely remarkable - I'm losing weight and LOVING being thinner, feeling my hip bones and jaw bone again. But the being SO FUCKING HUNGRY is kind of boring. This is the ONLY good part of my meds at this point in time - that they make me feel so much like crap I don't really feel like eating. - We now own two dogs. I am both deeply resentful and absolutely fine with this - I see this as situation as perfectly acceptable proof I am probably bipolar. - WHY when you basically feel like topping yourself does everyone tell you how fabulous you're looking - is there some sort of suicidal glow of radiance? - I know my kids know all is not right in Camelot when they say things like, "mummy, what does overwhelmed mean?" and I reply "just watch me for a few minutes and you'll know what it is". anyway, that's all. I have been seriously thinking of not writing here anymore, I seem to have scared Bec off into a far more genteel of space over at The Ladies Lounge and it just doesn't seem I have anything to offer, but here I am, writing inane shit once more. Maybe the meds are finally starting to work...


Thursday, June 15, 2006

Mop your way out of an early grave, fellas.

Men should be dying to do the housework I had to laugh... this is just what Surfing Free has been campaigning about over on her blog lately - and now there's a rooly truly academic study to back up her case! mtc Bec


Tuesday, June 13, 2006

I wrote this the week before last

before I got sick and worse.

My head doesn’t work that well. Sometimes it fires on all cylinders and I’m intelligent, witty, compassionate and productive. Other times it almost feels like its eating itself and I become introverted, paranoid, nervous, anxiety-laden, easily distracted, unmotivated and highly unproductive.

In the novel Miss Smilla’s Feeling For Snow, there is a passage where she retreats into her depression and refers to it as closing the shutters on her house, watching the light slowly shrink to a smaller and smaller point until she is left in total darkness. This is the best description I have found of what happens when my brain decides to turn on itself.

At the moment I am returning to anti-depressants. I find it deeply ironic that the side-effects of these little white pills are heightened feelings of the feelings I’m feeling that are making me a contender to be on them in the first place. It can take two weeks for the side-effects to dissipate. I’m a day off that two weeks and instead of lessening they have heightened in the last three days.

For the past two mornings I’ve been woken by our youngest for his feed. He then goes back to bed and I retreat to mine to lie there at the hands of a massive anxiety attack. Adrenalin pumps through my body as my teeth ache at being clenched for so long and so hard. My heart is racing, and has been for what feels like the last two weeks. I know this isn’t the case but it still feels like it. My neck is so stiff that if I move suddenly a hot hard pain grips my neck and right shoulder. My skin feels uncomfortable. I’m so tired, so very very tired, even if I get a full nights sleep. I simply do not want to get up. I want to shut the door on my life and just make the world go away. The impact this would have on my family, on my boys, makes tears instantly spring to my eyes. I want and need to be near people but I hate being touched. I am craving solitude.

Food and my body become my enemy when I’m like this. I find myself completely repugnant. I’m not really hungry but I eat almost constantly. Then I hate myself even more. This goes on and on. I can eat the most healthy food in the most reasonable of portions, but I will still berate myself for needing to eat it at all. I am the compulsive gambler, the alcoholic, of food. I get to the end of a day when I have eaten properly and try to punch the air in victory, but I’m so very tired I will have the same fight the very next day.

Not many people know just how hard and long this war has raged in my head. I’m scared they will look on me differently. Not give me work because they don’t want to overload me. Not tell me a joke or share a story with me because they think I might take it the wrong way or will not be in the mood for such frivolity. Not come to me for support or advice because they don’t want to stress or burden me even more. (Even though all these things are critical for me as I claw my way back to normal brain-land.) My greatest fear is that they will make allowances for me.

I hate it when my brain decides to eat itself. I try to remember what I’m like when it’s well. When I write well, have great ideas, am proactive in all areas of my life, am happy. But it feels so far away and is so fuzzy around the edges I wonder if I will ever feel that way again. I have a deep undercurrent of fear that asks what if the little white pills won’t work? What if I’m going to have to battle my brain each and every day? And that is the worst part of all.