SeLF iNteRviEW

Photo taken by Camryn on my iPhone while we wait for 'Fush & Chups' at the Wimbledon Pub.

Self Interview:

Me: So Cherry what is it like living in remote rural New Zealand, an hour from the nearest rural town? 

Me: It sucks dick. 

Me: What do you miss the most about Australia?

Me: The thunderstorms. And occasionally the beaches.

Me: What have you been up to lately, and why haven't we seen any blogging from you in several years?

Me: I've had three children. 

Me: Now that you have fulfilled your life long dream to become a mother, is life as rewarding as you always imagined it would be?

Me: Hell NO!

Me: Being a former midwife prior to children must have meant that having babies for you was super easy, breastfeeding would have come naturally and your children would sleep through the night; was this how it was for you?

Me: Fuck you. 

Me: You recently just purchased your first farm with your husband of 7 years, and taken on an incredible amount of debt on top of the already extravagant sum of debt you were already in. Has this extra workload and pressure allowed you to see more of each other and brought you closer together?

Me: Get fucked!

Me: Your decision to get back into blogging recently; was this to fill a void in your life now that you can't see yourself ever returning to midwifery full-time due to 'family commitments'?

Me: Yes. 

Me: Having three children in quick concession hasn't been kind to your body at all has it? In fact, despite losing weight during your third pregnancy you've actually managed to pile on the weight again and then some. Have you got any dieting tips you'd like to share with us?

Me: I hate you!

Me: Speaking of weight loss regimes, you've also recently decided to try Isagenix, which for anyone unfamiliar with the financially crippling cult-like product, is a 'lifestyle game-changer' complete with it's own online community of fabulous bodies and false promises. How's that going for you?

Me: 😡 *flipping the bird*

Me: Speaking of birds. Your childhood love for poultry has seen you happily raising chooks ever since moving to NZ. But recently your beloved husband blew them all away with his shotgun while you were away doing a mandatory midwifery skills workshop 2 hours away. It was your fault because you weren't able to stop them from coming down to the house and shitting outside the front door. Do you feel guilty when you think of their little chicken beaked faces being cruelly hunted down and slayed to death with a shower of lead shot? 

Me: 😡💣💥

loNg tiME No bLOg

This is the face of a new mother.

Note that the blood has not yet returned to the face since the shock of the birth.

There is the faint hint of triumph in the eyes having finally managed to get baby down to sleep, yet fear and trepidation should baby awake before her time, and yet no notion of it in the emotionless and humourless expression.

A fresh and old vomit stain is not evident in this portrait but does surely exist somewhere on the torso, and likely down the front.

The hair is unruly and slept on for 3 days, never having seen a brush in this entire time.

Facial features have aged dramatically in just 4 and a half months and show no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

Articles of clothing are reduced to comfort only and their usage extended over as many days as they manage to avoid excess of vomit, drool or faeces, as laundry is reserved exclusively for babies clothing and bibs now.

Bags under both eyes are suggestive of at least 3 night time feeds still, the last of which was likely resulting in a co-sleeping compromise; a white flag so to speak.

There is feeding paraphernalia to the right of the screen, evidence of the monotony of this new mothers existence. A used bib suggests that a 'feeding' has just taken place.

It is uncertain from this picture as to the degree of baby apparel that is lying in vast quantities at the foot of the new mother, but the rigid and unmoving stature suggests that it may not be advantageous to move around more than is absolutely necessary.

Every waking hour (and there is at least 23 of them in a 24 hour period) is a tripping hazard and danger trap waiting to happen.

The urge to urinate has come and gone three times prior to 9am, relief only coming once the baby is in a solid state of REM sleep, and post the first 2 evident sleep cycle patterns.

Constipation is a form of survival as there simply is not the time to nourish or hydrate therefore diminishing the need to defecate. A consequence or reaction to this fact is the 'rigid' or 'pole-stuck-up-arse' appearance upon the strained face of the new mother, often confused by the male mate as arrogance or restrained aggression.

Social acceptance is now null and void, until such time as the new mother proves herself to peers and opinionated strangers in the street.

Confidence is replaced with awkwardness.

Happiness is an emotion that the woman can now only experience whilst she is asleep for the one hour that was previously mentioned.

To conclude today's theory lesson, it is interesting to note that this extreme self esteem destroying ritual continues to rapidly spread like a virus throughout the female population, some even choosing to be mechanically projected into this way of life through artificial insemination.

There is no cure. 

Symptoms may be treated with alcohol on occasion and certainly not while breastfeeding...(clink)

If symptoms persist...

Welcome to Motherhood!   

       

    

jUst tO MAke iT cLeAR...

...for those that wish to remain with their heads in the 

sand ~ please allow me the pleasure of enlightening you 

on some of the appalling situations I have found myself 

in because of my Mother (who I have never blamed; 

although most would) and whom has never been accused

of being at fault NOR held accountable for the 

embarrasing and traumatic moments of my life.

* Age 1 ~ Born into a violent and volatile family 

life. 

* Age 2 ~ Hospitalised for stress related eczema. 

* Age 3 ~ Witnessed fighting, blood and screaming. 

* Age 4 ~ Daniel is born; now I have responsibility. 

* Age 5 ~ Too scared to let someone know I had soiled 

myself during one of my parents fights so I threw my 

undies over the fence. 

* Age 6 ~ I am crying at school because I wet my pants. 

Mum leaves Dad and we go in and out of Women's 

refuges and foster care for most of the next few years.

* Age 7 ~ forced to walk to the local Pastors house 

and stand at Mum's side to beg for money just so I 

could then walk into town and witness Mum spend the 

money on cigarettes and a toy car for Daniel who was 

chucking a major spasoid because he was tired from all 

the walking. Daniel and I are shuffled between not one 

but three foster homes, several women's refuges and at 

times the homes of family and friends. One halfway 

house in particular offers extra curriculum such as how to 

pack a bong, read tarot cards and graffic video pornogra

phy (funny enough this blog is directed at the Moron 

whose house this was and who wants me to 'walk a mile' 

in my Mother's shoes! Snap). 

* Age 8 ~ We spontaneously up and move to South 

Australia from Northern NSW in the dead of the 

night and at one of the states borders Mum decides 

she's going off fruit picking for a year with her 

boyfriend and leaves Daniel (who's asleep) and I in 

the care of a family friend. The next day we awake 

and begin a new life and a new school. Mum returns 

unexpectedly a year later, very unwell and demands we 

return with her to NSW. 

* Age 9 ~ We move often. At school I am interviewed 

regularly by social workers and made to draw pictures; 

mine are always the same ~ myself as a stick person 

standing underneath a colourful rainbow with flowers 

and a happy faced sun, the way I would like to see my 

life. I am never told if I have passed their tests. 

Daniel and I are 'randomly' selected and immediately 

sent to an underpriviledged kids camp in Sydney for 2 

weeks, when we get back we are teased by our school 

mates.  

* Age 10 ~ I am sitting in a police station trying to 

identify a man who jumped through an open window and 

climbed into bed with Daniel and myself at a party 

Mum dragged us to while she is outside in a panelvan 

fucking some bloke we've never met.  

* Age 11 ~ Baby brother Matthew is adopted out after 

we spend 9 months and 4 days with him. Begrudgingly 

my Grandmother is forced to take me to town to get some 

sanitary pads because I get my first period and Mum is 

in hospital yet again.

* Age 12 ~ I am struggling with puberty and the 

changes my body is going through. We have no fixed 

address it seems and I am becoming embarrassed by our 

situation, I have already been getting myself ready for 

school for years now and often have no lunch and come 

home to strangers in our houses and no dinner. 

* Age 13 ~ I begin Highschool. I am shy and a quiet 

achiever. 

* Age 14 ~ I follow Mum and Daniel to the Gold 

Coast and begin a new Highschool.

* Age 15 ~ I am taken in by my best friends family 

after they experience Mum in full swing. I choose to 

finish year 11 and 12 and graduate while dodging abuse 

from Mum on and off for the next 3 years.   

* Age 16 ~ I go out with my first boyfriend but because 

I have no real idea what a relationship is all about I 

can't talk to him for 2 weeks, we break up, become 

friends again and then I'm able to talk to him again. I 

am acutely aware that I am frigid.   

* Age 17 ~ I am awarded many achievements and a 

scholarship during my school years, all of which were 

never witnessed by either of my parents. I sang in the 

choir at every end of year concert but was never heard by 

my parents. I am still good friends with my first 

boyfriend and highschool sweetheart; we take things to 

the next level naturally and it is very sweet for a 

while.  

* Age 18 ~ I am finishing off Grade 12, working as a 

cleaner and now rebelling by dating a 41 year old man 

who drops me off at school in my cute uniform and slaps 

my arse on my way out of his car. He works in a broth

el. My bestfriend and I move into our first home.

* Age 19 ~ I am working, paying off my first car, going 

out nightclubbing, taking drugs and negotiating my life 

around my Mother's manic mood swings and frequent 

hospital visits. 

* Age 20 ~ I am job hopping because Mum often 

turns up to my workplaces and tells my employers that I 

am being sexually abused, used as a drug mule and in 

imminent danger from strange people from her past. It is 

just easier to get a new job than to explain that she is 

not well enough to know what she's talking about. 

* Age 21 ~ I plan and pay for my 21st birhtday party 

after having a termnation. Mum makes sure that every 

Special event is spent in the emergency department trying 

to get her into a mental health bed.

* Age 22 ~ I am living by myself, find inner peace and 

working hard in an industrial laundry. I am strongly en

couraged to go back to school and do something with my 

life. Mum makes sure that every Christmas is spent in 

the emergency department trying to get her into a mental 

health bed. 

* Age 23 ~ I meet Justin in a nightclub and know 

that I have to do something in my life if I hope to hold 

onto someone as special as that. I apply and am accepted 

into a Bachelor of Nursing course. Mum makes sure 

that every Birthday is spent in the emergency department 

trying to get her into a mental health bed.

* Age 24 ~ Justin and I are still together. 

* Age 25 ~ Justin and I are still together despite my 

Mother's interference.

* Age 26 ~ Justin and I are still together despite my 

Mother now targetting Justin when she becomes unwell. 

* Age 27 ~ I am now a Registered Nurse. 

* Age 28 ~ Mum stabs her former boyfriend in the 

back with a pen, Justin and I drove around to rescue 

him, diffuse the situation, Justin gets a Litre of milk 

tipped over his head and I chase Mum around the house 

holding out her pants for her while she has only a shirt 

on; police and ambulance officers wait patiently. 

* Age 29 ~ I spend every one of my Birthdays, 

Christmas's and New Year's in a security guarded hos

pital waiting room with Mum who spirals out of control 

on a regular basis. 

* Age 30 ~ We work and renovate home number one. 

Mum often turns up in an unwell state, when we refuse 

to let her in she goes to our neighbours doors and gives 

them the full sob story. 

* Age 31 ~ This routine continues and Mum is often 

spotted by our neighbours just sitting in our courtyard 

while we are at work, she continues to visit our neigh

bours despite our pleading for her to not do this. 

* Age 32 ~ Go back to university to undertake my 

Masters of Midwifery. Mum makes my intense study 

even more of a living hell. I am forced to admit to my

self that I need antidepressant drugs and a good psychol

ogist.  

* Age 33 ~ Move to New Zealand with the hope of 

making a life for ourselves and perhaps even getting some 

respite from Mum. 

* Age 34 ~ Living and working in New Zealand 

miles away from Mum but still easily harrassed and 

ambushed by a frantically unstable Mother who is 

convinced by her dilusional and irrational thoughts that I 

am being harmed, framed and corrupted. 

* Age 35 ~ Working in Dubbo Base Hospital trying 

to earn some money. I fly in to Australia and spend my 

first night with Mum in the hope that this will be 

enough to convince her that I love her and that I am here 

on serious Midwifery business; it's not enough. I am 

stalked, get 4-5 messages a day, numerous daily phone 

calls and then finally verbally abusive threats towards 

my husband. Mum finally rings my temporary workplace 

and creates confusion and concern on an already hectic 

and busy ward where I have no intention of explaining 

myself or my family issues. 

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So for those who are unsure of what I have had to put up 

with for the past 35 years and who tartly believe I 

should 'walk a mile' in my Mother's shoes, consider 

yourself moronic. 

You're quite right; it's not all my Mum's fault, there 

were plenty of others responsible for the physical and 

emotional abuse I endured while I was growing up. I 

have a great solicitor now who would be very interested 

in some of my childhood experiences. 

How about You walk a mile in My shoes and see who's 

still smiling. 

I don't need to walk in my Mother's shoes to know of 

her pain and suffering, because for the past 35 years I 

have carried the burden for her.