One Year On

One Year On

Anniversaries are those things we either absolutely love to celebrate or we dread them coming and do all we can to avoid anything to do with them. They can either heighten our excitement or anxiety, stimulate our desire for happiness or crush all we have for life to go on.

How is it that as we get older time seems to fly by without us realising? One year ago we moved up here to 'sunny' QLD. So much has happened since then. Nath and I have had some down and horrible moments but they are far outweighed by the good things!

Recently, Good Friday to be exact, we moved into a house we bought. Not just any old house, but an old secret maternity hospital thats about 100yrs old. Its huge! 5 bedrooms, plus a dining room, storeroom off the kitchen, massive bathroom, 2 loungerooms, a bar and the old verandah which has been enclosed. Its just what we've always wanted, plus its on 3 1/2 acres in a tiny town 40km N/W ot Toowoomba with just over 100 students at the school (yep, kids have had to change schools! Again!) and 700 people in the town. We're half an hour away from any shops which I looooooove!!

Anyway, the 'anniversary' of us moving up here has been good. Im so glad we've moved up here, not once have I questioned the reason why we did, nor have I said to myself 'grrrrr, why why why!!???!!!!"

Its also coming up to 3yrs since hospital. Blah! Lets leave that there where it belongs! I already feel tired and drained, I dont need that memory to play on me. Oh hey, I reckon I still have atleast one visual memory of it a day!!

But its also the anniversary of Snowy's death. Not so happy :( Gunna be one of those ones that will stick in my mind forever as 1st of June 2011 is also the day that 'Bung' went missing in Boronia, Victoria. Ill never forget how it worked out that Snow was found on his 30th birthday - 5th June. Suicide only passes the pain from yourself to your family and friends and everyone that knew you. It never leaves those left behind. Im kinda feeling frazzled tonight and not even sure why Im writing, maybe Ill change the subject.

I found a brown snake's skin in the garden this morning. It wasn't very big, probably 50cm but it wasn't all of it either. So that garden got a full clean out today so he would have nowhere to hide, Ive only got 2 more gardens to clean out, I bet he's in the flag pole garden cos that is full of weeds and is very overgrown! Thank goodness its winter and if I do come across him he'll be sleepy!! That garden is going to become my herb garden, Ive found rocks/pavers that look a little like sandstone so Ive scattered them through the garden. They will kind of seperate the herbies a little and give you somewhere to put ya feet instead of all over the plants.

Im going to start a new blog, my living simply blog....keeping life simple stuff :)

From 300mg to 150mg

I'm in the process of dropping my dose of antidepressant (effexor xr)! Its been 2 1/2yrs and until a couple of weeks ago I was on 300mg - the dose prescribed to me in hospital. There is never a good time to come off them, there is always something going on that could trigger a bad patch, a slump in mood, more anxiety....you know, uni has started back, we've bought a house so we have to move, the kids are having to change schools....but hey, why not?! Because I can and I want to and I will. I wanted 12mths ago but Dr M wouldn't let me - it was too early. Fair enough I thought even though I was disappointed. So now that we have moved and I have a new GP I thought I would try him out and see if he would be willing - he was!! But instead of dropping ever so slowly from 300 to 150mg by going to 225mg for a few weeks, Ive cut it in half instantly....not sure if that was a good idea but its done. Before I even went to see him about it I had started taking 300mg every 28hrs instead of 24hrs (because even after 25hrs I could feel the effects of not having those magic pills), and then increased it to 30hrs and then 36hrs for 5 days or so. I was mucking around big time knowing it would hit big time once I did the 150mg dose. The days leading up to doing 150mg I took 300mg in the morning, 150mg that night, 150mg the next mid day, 150mg the following morning, 150mg that night and then strung it out to take 150mg the following night.

I had made it.

 Those few days or so - I cant even think how many days it was - not even looking at what Ive just written - I felt like a drunk! My body was shaking (and still is, well certainly feels like it!!), my eyes were (and still are) jumpy with my vision being a little fuzzy white on the edges, the mild diarrhea/constipation started kicking in (and still is), my heart rate is a little nuts and feels like it flutters. I have a constant headache at the back of my head. Every now and then it shoots round to the front of my head and then Ive noticed my 'todds paralysis' headaches are occurring more too which makes half my body go slightly limp and weird!

And don't ask me about cooking! Cakes, biscuits, slices - they turn out crap! I swear I'm not doing anything differently!! And concentrating on conversations is so hard at times - I feel like I'm there but I'm not and I float in and out of concentration. For the first time ever I got done for speeding - a lack of concentration....or was it just good old tiredness at the end of the day with fighting kids in the car? Maybe a combination of both. Either way and letter was written and sent off....wonder if my awesome driving record will still be awesome?? ;)

So, I think its about 10 days now at being at 150mg, maybe less....maybe more. Cant remember, the last few weeks are a slight blur!

So that's all the physical symptoms of coming off an SSRI (selective seretonin reuptake inhibitor). Basically, seretonin is a neurotransmitter in the neural synapses between brain cells. Seretonin crosses the synapse but in mood disorders, anxiety disorders, sleep dep and the like the seretonin isn't taken up enough by the receiving neuron and it then goes back to the neuron it came which causes lower seretonin levels. SSRIs make sure the seretonin cant go backwards and only gets pushed forward which increases its levels. Make sense?

BUT my head is fine. My unconscious is behaving itself like it should and wouldn't expect anything else, but I'm realistic and know that a relapse is possible and that going back up to 300mg is possible also. The other night I tested myself - I was saying "I'm suicidal....(no physical shivers, urges etc)....no I'm not....." and I kept saying it for a while. I know how my unconscious works, I know how to get into it and there is nothing sinister there. I know my triggers and I know that Ive dealt with stuff that I needed to, my chance of relapse is lower than the stats say. Knowing how my brain works, how stimulus works and that my coping mechanisms are all in tact then I know I'm safe. I have a friend who Ive known only a short time and she is great.....she sees through me, shes done psych. Its all good mate!

ITS ALL GOOD!

The blog in my head

We just went camping for a couple of nights down at Murphy's Creek. It was awesome. Just us (us plus Nath's cousin, her hubby and their daughter and her partner) and the bush. For as far as the eye could see there was bush surrounding us. It wasn't green and lushious. It wasn't like fields with wild flowers everywhere. It was dirty, scrub bush, gum trees, it was sunny, then it was cloudy and almost rained, it was hot, yet sitting in front of the fire was the best place to be. Not only was there a fire but we cooked up some damper (albeit yellow, tasting like custard and a little feral - I ran out of gluten free flour so used gluten free custard powder cos it was too runny which increased the yellowness of the besan flour!) and bambi stew.

Camp Fire

I look at this particular photo and all of a sudden I feel at ease, at home, where I belong, something about that setting is in my blood, its natural, there is something about it that Im connected with. There is freedom in this photo, a sense of calmness and silence. I instantly feel at rest the moment I look into the fire, the bush. I feel like the dirt in that photo is in my veins, in my blood, making me alive the more I look at it. People who really know me will understand exactly what I mean. They know Im at home in the bush, in the dirt, with noone else around. People who know me best will know.....
I cannt remember where my love of the bush came from.

Llanthony aka The Dolls House, Cambewarra NSW

 Some of my first memories are of being in dad's 2 stroke suzuki sierra and driving past a black snake in the bush. The first time I ever laid eyes on my dream home was in early primary school - Llanthony, in Cambewarra. That feeling of being absolutely awe-struck when looking at the giant staircase is still really vivid. I dont remember a lot of being in the 'dolls house' as its known to the locals but I remember that exact feeling, that exact emotion of being in there like it was yesturday. Every now and then the beautiful house appears in my dreams, last time was only a few months ago with me huddling in the laundry outside and around the corner near the driveway with some children trying to hide from the 'baddies'. If I had $800k I would buy the dolls house! Its beauty resonates through Cambewarra despite it being tucked away. One of my best friends during high school lived across the road from the dolls house. Back then you could see it through the garden and if we weren't out riding horses (which was most of the time) we would lay there in her bedroom looking at horse magazines and staring at the dolls house. Oh she is a stunning home!! If only she could be mine!!

Llanthony

Then there is the other house in Nowra, Meroogal, built by the relatives of those who built Llanthony. Meroogal is a story in itself with women running the household for many generations. Imagine being on the balcony watching the tall ships sail up the river!! I swear I was born in the wrong century!!

Meroogal

No matter how I look at it, Im a country girl. Whether its boots, jeans, flanny, rmw hat, shorts, singlet....whatever....its my love of the dirt, the solemness, the peace, the stillness and freedom of the bush that makes me who I am. I may enjoy a skinny soy chai latte but I love my rum & coke. I may enjoy a meal at a restaurant, but I love my camp oven. I may enjoy sleeping in my bed but I love my swag. I may enjoy having a bubble bath, a facial scrub and a massage but I love sitting in my $20 camping chair in front of the fire coated in dirt cos I haven't had a wash for 2 or more days.

Rain, hail or shine, the bush is there to be enjoyed, there to be in. Its there that I feel home and thats all there is to it.

So I thought to add this about my favourite poem ever: The Man From Snowy River as it is arguably Australia’s most famous poem. Us Aussies can at least recite the first sentence if not the whole opening stanza. But this little piece of beauty is less about the poetry than it is about the way many urbanised Australians would like to see themselves: showing that grit and determination of the Man from Snowy River, with his willingness to have a go against the odds. It also captures a barracking for the underdog which is an enduring part of the Aussie make up. Even if you know it, read it again. I bet most of us have never read the entire poem despite knowing the first stanza off-by-heart, then 3 of my favourite photos. I have 1000's of favourite photos, I can never pin point just 1 or 2 or 3, not even my top 3. All I know is that these 3 are on my list!!

There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.

There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up-
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle girths would stand,
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony - three parts thoroughbred at least -
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry - just the sort that won't say die -
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

But so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, "That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop-lad, you'd better stop away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you."
So he waited sad and wistful - only Clancy stood his friend -
"I think we ought to let him come," he said;
"I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred."

"He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen."

So he went - they found the horses by the big mimosa clump -
They raced away towards the mountain's brow,
And the old man gave his orders, "Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills."

So Clancy rode to wheel them - he was racing on the wing
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
And he raced his stockhorse past them, and he made the ranges ring
With stockwhip, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back
From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their sway,
Were mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, "We may bid the mob good day,
No man can hold them down the other side."
When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull,
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.
He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
He cleared the fallen timbers in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat -
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringybarks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent.

He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill
And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.

Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.
He followed like a bloodhound in their track,
Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around The Overflow the reed beds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The man from Snowy River is a household word today,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

Cattle in the Snowy Country

 Riders in the Snowy Country

The iconic Craig's Hut which was made famous in The Man From Snowy River movies.