Sleepless Nights

Author: Veronica

  • Painkillers, headspace, broken joints and assorted other things that won’t make sense

    It was after I dropped Amy off at school that my hands started to hurt, badly. We were on the way to the supermarket and I’d already had to talk myself out of vomiting a few times this morning, so my head really wasn’t up to ignoring the pain in my hands.

    By the time I was 3/4 of the way through the supermarketing, I was unable to push the trolley and the pain was at the front and centre of most of my thoughts. Luckily, with the help of unlimited lollipops, Isaac was being practically angelic and just following along behind us, as Nathan pushed the trolley and lifted the heavy things, like milk and rice.

    (Side note: It takes three lollipops to get the supermarketing done without meltdowns or screaming. What I need now, is to find lollipops without artificial colours.)

    I held on, until I got to the chemist, knowing that I had scripts for regular tramadol (that doesn’t give me insomnia) and panadol oesto for the arthritis pain. Only, when I went to fill the script, I discovered that it was out of date and I was out of luck. Fun times, you guys, fun times.

    By the time we made it home, I wasn’t in the best frame of mind and Isaac deciding to have a meltdown over toothpaste wasn’t really something I wanted to deal with.

    I managed to take some slow release tramadol (that does give me insomnia) and now, two hours later, it has kicked in and while I’m still in pain, I’m rather stoned and I don’t care quite so much. It was a choice between stoned, or knocked out. Sometimes there are no good choices.

    This Winter has been really bad. I’m coming out of the other side of SAD, smack into depression and anxiety, but I think that if I can hold on until the weather warms up, I might be okay. My soul is screaming for long hot days spent laying in the sun, letting the warmth fix my joints for a little while.

    ***

    I was outside using the pitchfork to poke holes in the swampy patch in my back corner. I had a bag full of mint that needed to be planted and Isaac was helping me, by tipping out the roots and running away with them.

    Three holes in, the pitchfork handle snapped in my face, as the bottom (metal) end threw itself up into my forehead.

    “Mummy! It hit you in the head! MUMMY!”

    Funnily enough, I realised that.

    My forehead still hurts, but the cut is healing, at least.

    I can’t say that it’s helping either my mental or physical states to be beating myself up with a pitchfork, however.

    On the upside, with some help from Nathan, I got 20 currant cuttings planted out (not sure what types – Mum had forgotten) and a bag full of mint plants planted. And the raspberry canes survived being transplanted and are shooting up.

    Finally.

    ***

    It’s been dark inside my head lately. I keep putting one foot in front of the other and trusting to the fact that eventually, this will change. It might not get better, or easier, but I can count on it getting different at some point.

    Different is good.

    I’m discontent with my house, with my lack of garden, with a paddock full of nothing, that screams its nothingness at me every time I see it. With the clutter and the lack and the excess and everything. I am discontent.

    I need to work on getting things inside my head sorted, so that I can work on getting things outside of my head sorted.

    And until then, I’m going to keep dreaming of moving house and living somewhere that isn’t falling down, that has a garden to sit in and just be, and storage space and cupboards for everything. I hear that they exist, somewhere.

    Until then, I’m going to keep planting things and hoping that they grow and help sort my sanity out.

    ***

    I don’t think this post makes much sense. Sorry about that.

     

  • Showcase Tasmania: The Fudge A’fare

    When brands started working seriously with Australian bloggers, I realised that what I wasn’t seeing, were any of my favourite Tasmanian brands working in the social media sphere. That made me sad, as there are so many amazing Tasmanian businesses that I would love to work with. So, I decided to approach some businesses that I personally love, in order to share them here, on my blog.

    I wanted to work with businesses that were both family friendly and relatively budget friendly – either to show off Tasmania’s amazing produce, or things to do in Tasmania with a family.

    Showcase Tasmania is my answer to this. Each week (until I run out of businesses who want to participate,) I’ll be showing off some of Tassie’s finest here. I’ve got some exciting things planned, so stay tuned.

    ***

    The Fudge A’fare

    The Fudge A’fare are husband and wife team, Danielle Quinn and Matthew Gould. Danielle has been a pastry chef for over 20 years and she has honed her craft in several high-end pastry establishments both here and overseas.

    Working out of the commercial kitchen on their property, they produce and sell 17 different flavours of fudge. Their philosophy is to only do one thing, but to do it better than anyone else.

    I was lucky enough to be sent all of The Fudge A’fare’s fudge to try and I have been taking my job as fudge taster very seriously, nibbling at every opportunity. Amy and Isaac are, as always, very helpful, choosing to scream over which flavour they would like RIGHT NOW and HIS PIECE IS BIGGER THAN MINE!!! It’s been fun (for me – less for them, as screaming gets them no fudge and time outs. I’m not great at sharing fudge).

    Amy is rather a fan of both the Cherry flavoured fudge and the Raspberry one, and I loved the Apricot and Almond, the Jaffa, the After Dinner Mint and and and and…..

    Actually, I like all of them.

    Isaac likes them all too.

    What is more astonishing than all of these flavours being produced in their home, is that Danielle and Matthew have created this award winning business and are continuing to run it, just themselves, with a three year old and a four month old underfoot.

    I’m not sure about you, but some days I struggle to cook dinner with my two running around, let alone make, pack and sell fudge that wins countless awards.

    I’m amazed.

    The fudge is Gluten Free, as well as being free of artificial colours and flavours and it tastes absolutely divine. Really.

    If you would like to order some fudge (really, you should order some fudge, you won’t be disappointed) you can download the order form here and the price list here (word docs), and then email the order form directly to Danielle and Matthew at thefudge@bigpond.net.au

    PS, family? I think I know what I would like for Christmas, please.

    ***

    I wasn’t paid for this post and I approached The Fudge A’fare myself in order to work with them. They rather nicely agreed to my proposal and sent me fudge to try. They may possibly now be on my list of favourite people. I’m just saying.

  • Baked and Delicious, the Winner!

    Yesterday, I seriously considered making focaccia bread and I seemed to remember that there was a recipe for it in my first copy of Baked and Delicious.

    And then I realised that my children had been “reading” the magazine and I absolutely had no idea where they’d put it. I decided that focaccia bread could be a job for in a few days, maybe when we’re not still all recovering from the flu and feeling exhausted and miserable.

    So, now I get to announce the winner of the Subscription to Baked and Delicious (RRP: $1106)

    Alannah Shore! Congratulations Alannah, I’ll be emailing you shortly.

  • 10 weeks. The countdown begins. (PS, I’m getting MARRIED, SOMEONE HELP)

    The last few months have flown in a haze of interstate trips, small whiny children, rain and miserable weather. I looked at my calendar today and freaked out a little at how far into this year it is. September is almost over? What happened September, I was counting on you!

    Anyway, today marks ten weeks before my wedding, which I am alternately excited about and panicking about the stuff! left! to! do!

    I have to send invites out soon (the lovely Toni is making my invites) and make sure that my cake and cupcakes are coming along nicely (thanks Cat and Watershedd!) and then, I have to sit down and prepare with my family for what is happening when and who is eating what and where can I find enough haybales to seat people during the ceremony and does anyone have magic grow powder so that I can coax my orchard into a semblance of maturity?

    In the middle of all of that though, I know that things will be okay.

    I have my dress.

    The Celebrant is booked.

    We have food mostly organised.

    Everything else is gravy, really.

    (YES? TELL ME IT WILL ALL BE FINE!)

    Anyway, one thing that I thought I might do and haven’t yet had a chance to pursue, is to see if any brands, or small businesses would like to help out with the wedding, in return for my eternal grattitude, plus advertising/in content mentions on Sleepless Nights, Twitter and Facebook.

    We’re also planning on trying to live stream the wedding for friends and family who live on the mainland/internationally, who may want to watch us tell everyone how much we love each other and try not to laugh inappropriately.

    The dress is from a small shop somewhere in Melbourne and cost me $15 and the leggings I am planning on wearing are from We Love Colours.

    So you know, if you’re a business, or representing any businesses that would like to be involved in my low key country wedding, I would love to hear from you.

    And if you’re a friend who lives too far away to come, would you like me to live stream it? What is the best way to do that?

  • So far from okay

    My last few years have been … eventful. Starting with a pregnancy that didn’t look like it was going to end well, cancer, death, family fuckwits, autism x 2, early intervention, Ehlers Danlos, a falling down house, debt and depression. It hasn’t exactly been the time frame that I would hold up to the light and dissect, more the time frame that you force to the bottom of your closet, stomping on it as you go, so that you don’t have to deal with it anymore.

    I signed up to participate in RUOK Day and then promptly decided that I would be better off stabbing myself in the eyes.

    I am not okay. I am so far from okay, that okay is the distant shore that I left some years ago, before doctors told me that things were “all in my head” and tossed around words like anorexia and problems at home to explain why I was sick and exhausted, why I threw up every day and why my joints hurt so badly.

    You tell me, how are you meant to trust the medical professionals to help out with mental issues, when mental issues are what they thought your major, genetic, connective tissue disorder was? I don’t trust them to help anymore.

    I watched my grandmother die. I dealt with the fallout that rewriting a eulogy caused. I read long winded rants about myself on the Internet, written by a family member. I dealt with the trolls. I helped clean out her house, knowing that it was never going to be okay that she was dead and we were parcelling up her belongings.

    I went to a doctor to discuss anxiety medication, only to be told that it would be better to sort out WHY I was anxious, rather than just medicating. You can’t cure grief by wanting it to hurt less, any more than you can make a broken bone heal faster than it does. I left with medication, that didn’t work anyway.

    My son was diagnosed with autism and while it wasn’t the worst thing to happen, it was the straw that broke the camels back. Really universe? Autism and Aspergers ON TOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE? REALLY?

    Fuck you.

    I would like to be okay, in the same way that I would like my joints to stop dislocating and to stop vomiting all of the time. To stop having to deal with meltdowns and the assumption that I am okay, because I tell everyone I am. I would like people to notice, without having to be told, just how far from okay this whole mess is and to stop assuming that they know how they would handle it.

    I would LIKE for the Pain Olympics on the Internet to stop and for people to stop negating what I am dealing with, because it could be so much worse. Sure it could be worse, but stop trying to fucking jinx me. Last time I thought that nothing else could go wrong, everything else went wrong.

    And you know what? I DON’T want to talk about this. I don’t want to cry anymore, or have to talk about this, or try to explain. Writing it is hard enough. The last psych I talked to about my anxiety and grief, seemed to think that it was nothing to worry about. Obviously I downplay things, really well.

    RUOK?

    No. No I am not.

    Now excuse me, while I get off the Internet, before I am tempted to swear anymore.