Monthly Archives: December 2009

The super pillow incident

By admin on December 9, 2009

We were browsing through a bedding shop when I noticed the goose down pillows. They were plump and pliant and stupidly expensive. Extravagant more than generous I bought one for Mottsu. I loved that pillow, it was a spontaneous gift. I loved him.

We christened it the ‘super pillow’, luxurious and better than the average pillow. It was a gift for him and over time it was mostly me who appreciated sleeping on the super-pillow.

The week Mottsu started his journal I was in New Zealand working. My Saturday flight home was delayed for more than 8 hours due to rain in Auckland.

I spent the afternoon and evening in the airline lounge. Mottsu was updated about my lack of progress home by phone. I wouldn’t be home for dinner, I would be lucky to be home that day. I looked forward to eating and sleeping on the plane. The longer I was delayed the more home was beckoned. When it finally departed, the flight was terrible, through storms, and circumstances dictated that the flight was un-catered. I arrived home after mid-night hungry, grumpy.

He hadn’t waited up, I was annoyed and disappointed. 002

He was asleep, I didn’t know he hadn’t been sleeping. I muttered away to myself and got ready for bed, and noticed his was head was resting on the super pillow. Annoyed I ripped ‘my’ pillow (the one I had bought for him) from under his head and flounced onto the mattress. Feeling unappreciated I made my point vengefully. Petty, I didn’t know he’d been to consult a psychologist that week.

I grabbed the goose down treasure and yanked, without thinking. I ripped the pillow from under his head.

If I could turn back time, I would have left the super pillow under his resting head and I would have recommended reading an author other than Cormac McCarthy.

Non, je ne regrette rien, I am vaguely haunted by the guilt of the damn super pillow and the gloomy book …

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“Life is a memory, and then it is nothing.” Cormac McCarthy (The Crossing)

By admin on December 7, 2009

I am a reader, I love books and stories. When Mottsu wanted to read something lighter than his usual fare of news and politics has asked me to recommend a fiction book, one with emotions and feeling.

the border trilogyI had just finished reading The Crossing by Cormac McCarthy, I recommended it, almost, without hesitating. It’s a powerful book the central relationship between a boy and a wolf is very moving, Mc Carthy’s words a pleasure to read. He is a peerless author, if bleak.

I’m a little haunted by just how bleak some of his works are. What was I thinking? I had thought, I might have considered what a desolate story it told. I might have considered Mottsu’s state and considered something cheerier, actually that’s not true. I did consider Mottsu’s state and I thought the writing was so moving, so compelling, it would touch his heart like it had squeezed my own.

The Crossing is a melancholic yet redemptive read. I thought Mottsu would find it as uplifting as it is grim. Regret is inevitable from time to time, now I wish I had recommended a different book, a bright happy book, something less harrowing than McCarthy’s incomparable prose.

I can’t think of an author but Dr Suess who writes bright and happy, and Dr Suess would not have worked either.

“He saw very clearly how all his life led only to this moment and all after led to nowhere at all. He felt something cold and soulless enter him like another being and he imagined that it smiled malignantly and he had no reason to believe that it would ever leave. “ Cormac McCarthy (The Crossing)

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In his own words

By admin on December 6, 2009

007Mottsu started seeing a psychologist, who recommended keeping a journal to help break the troubling cyclical thought patterns. Over a ten day stretch Mottsu wrote about his ‘problem’ and the actions he took to deal with it. “Today I made an important first step to dealing with my ‘problem’, one I still can’t fully understand but I know is real and that I must deal with. It has been a strange few days leading up to this, alternating between disbelief that this was real to a hope against hope that it might be the beginning of ridding myself of the debilitating ‘life’ in my head and being able to feel normal.” Journal day 1

  • He started talking, “…when I am not drowning in the poison thoughts I know I am a capable, intelligent even caring person. I’ve got a lot of making up to do but for the first time I can see a way out to do it and this last half hour of writing has been unbelievably helpful in bringing out at least a partial answer and some clarity for something that has seemed terrifyingly unfathomable for weeks, if not months and years. Christ, I almost feel good.” Journal day 1

  • He planned to recover, “I have been thinking today about the possibilities for the future and I have envisioned some rosy pictures – but always I tend to switch back to the practical difficulties. I think the best approach is break things down in stages: get my broodiness and inability to express my feelings improved and then move onto other things like getting more enjoyment out of leisure –some spontaneity and new interests and hopefully it will all work towards making me more content and positive.” Journal day 2

  • He insisted by working he maintaining a sense of normalcy and it help to take his mind off himself, “I am making a point of keeping usual and planned appointments and not withdrawing to keep as much to my pattern of life so that when I have sorted out my internal problems, it will be a matter of making necessary adjustments rather than having to recover from a catastrophe. Life must go on; I have made a mess of my life so far in many ways and now I have to make it happen to put it right.” Journal day 3

  • He decided to read fiction as a change from current affairs; he was a journalist so bad news was an occupational hazard, “A few simple things I can start with: stop cramming my head with relentless factual and analytical reading and try something that deals with human relationships and feelings.” Journal day 3

  • He tried to relax, “The other thing is just trying to keep a relaxed attitude – that not every little problem or awkward situation has to become stressful. To accept, yes I am in a pretty serious pickle here but it can come right with the will and some hard work” Journal day 3

  • He chose not to take medication, he wanted to address the cause of his troubled mind and not mask the symptoms,“I have been reading about depression…others say that taking anti-depressants to counter this is only masking the problem and the underlying reasons have to be discovered and dealt with.” Journal day 5.

  • He didn’t sleep well and took natural sleep remedies, “Not such a good day. Lot of trouble sleeping – still can’t come to terms with why I am so stressed and why I can’t just throw it off.” Journal day 5

  • He had resolved to be more spontaneous and went to the gym regularly, “It’s the motivation, interests outside home that need work. I am keeping ideas flowing about how to improve that but nothing has taken hold yet. Guess just have to chip away at social spontaneity/physical input of endorphins and the more settled perspective/attitude to keep stabilising me…” Journal day 10

  • He experienced breakthroughs, “Day two of the rest of my life. Yesterday was a real breakthrough – discovering that things were not as warped as I had let myself think and also that simply saying what I am thinking has the power to put it into perspective and to make me feel better – perhaps it is the overcoming of fear, showing yourself you are capable of facing up to the thoughts you are ashamed of that is the thing that gives it such power.” Journal day 8

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It’s to die idiom

By admin on December 3, 2009

“Also, it is to die for. It's extraordinary; it's deeply appreciated and/or greatly desired. For example, Her performance, it's to die! or That mink coat—it's to die for! This hyperbole is usually put as an exclamation. [Slang; 1970s]”
http://www.yourdictionary.com/idioms/it-s-to-die

Now, if you are a mink that contributed to the aforementioned coat, then the statement is true rather than an idiom. I know, I know, it’s not meant to be taken literally.
It’s an i-di-om (id-i-ot)… I tell myself.

The phrase raises my hackles (or they would raise if I had hackles). I simply don’t like how it trivialises what it might be worth dying for. A promotional email, received today, talked about an upcoming film, Fantastic Mr Fox, mentioning that “The production design alone is to die for.” I don’t think so Palace Cinemas.

I do note the rise of disparaging anger, along with hackles, I’ve added a new tag to these posts ‘Anger’. Seems the emotion must have been here all along. Sorry Dr Kuebler-Ross, for claiming not to get angry. I do experience anger and with a capital ‘A’. Anger is secondary to my everyday identity, a little quashed and now it pops out inappropriately in disparaging posts.

Anyway, my point is made, to die for is not a way to describe a film’s production values, nor a cheese cake, it’s not, not, not…

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Stage 3

By admin on December 2, 2009

Stage 3 – the widely accepted version – Bargaining: “Yes me, but. . .”
This is often a period of temporary truce after experiencing resentment. People attempt to bargain with their higher power by asking, “If I do this, will you erase the loss?”

Stage 3 – my version - Running away “Get me out of here”
I returned to work and found that it was hard to reintegrate with a world that kept moving while I sat at home weeping and listening to the fridge. During this stage I was unable to visit the supermarket without being taunted by songs of everlasting love playing through the aisles and having to flee.

003I took up every offer to work away from home travelling to China, Hobart, Japan, Korea, Singapore, Sydney and the US on business establishing a relentless pace and somehow managing to cope with that. My tax records show 27 trips in the first year. The number surprises me now, it’s a bit of a blur.

Hotels were fabulous places to retreat to, everything provided and everything done. The bed made, the room tidied, no shopping, no cooking, no bins to put out and work to consume all the hours of the day. Work distracted me, more than that, it engulfed me. My life was girt by airports.

I also start to run, I don’t quite know how running emerged, I had never been a jogger. There was effort and sweat, gradual achievements and daily exhilaration. It wasn’t a conscious thought but maybe if a plane couldn’t take me far enough from the memories then my feet could. More about the challenge and pleasure of running soon, today is bargaining…

Bargaining? Maybe I did bargain somewhere in the blur of running away, maybe I was too realistic to beg, pray, or wish for a different deal. While I think bargaining is strange grief behaviour, maybe it is no stranger than running away.

My advice is to follow yourself where ever that leads.

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