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Omg! I had the best nightshift ever last night! Two patients. I was on with my jam, and we got deep. Real deep. Like an Oprah episode. We all have shit, shit that ties us to tragedy, shit that tortures us. Shapes us. Fucks us up. Last night we took turns sharing.
For me, March is loaded with it. Both my parents died in March. Different days, different years. And both left me scarred. Like I’m healed. But the scars stay.
Short Story: my dad’s dna and my mums purse are buried in my backyard coz I’m nuts.
Long story: My dad is probs not my dad. I came to this conclusion because he would tell me to find my real dad when he was drunk lolling. So during his long drawn out death, I was handed a blood soaked singlet to wash after a medical procedure went a bit askew, and I kept it coz I thought once he’s dead I’m gonna do dna and find out once and for all. It sat in my cupboard like a smoking gun for nearly 20 years. Keeping me tied to the hurt and drama. A few years ago I confided to a friend and they said something like “control the narrative and let it go, it’s not going to change anything”. Those words hit me like a slap. And I decided yes. End the chapter. So I buried his singlet in my backyard and added a cross.
Then my mum, who was my main torturer, an abusive alcoholic who couldn’t keep her knickers on (apple didn’t fall far
lolling) was found dead in her bed, she lay there for a few days in the March heat. She overdosed on whiskey and oxy. Police guessed it was the 28th of this month, but I asked the copper if he could guesstimate it to the 27th, coz the 28th is my nephews birthday and I didn’t want that tied to his special day, and he changed it. So I’m the oldest, so of course it fell to me to clean her rented unit and pay for the forensic clean. I literally smelled her for two years. Every time I smelled something bad, like if my dog Bill farted, or a rubbish bin stank, anything bad, I could smell her body as it lay in that bed, the images of her mattress stored in my brain just to flash me for added mental torture. The mind is a terrible thing once it’s in high trigger alert. Anyhoo, I had her purse, and omg finding my boys crumpled up photo in it hurt me like I was cut with a knife, that she kept him there. That he mattered to her. So couple of years after her death I thought, control the narrative. End the chapter. So I did. Her purse is buried next to dad’s singlet and I added another cross lol.
Having a tiny place just for them has helped me cleanse the memories a bit. Make it kinda sweet and beautiful. I sit flowers there to remember them, coz there was love. I loved them. I loved them both. And I want to forgive them. So my big rock idea made me think of a test rock. So I made them a head stone! And I’m fully aware it looks like a child did it, but it has my little cemetery looking prettier. Well I think it has. 
I still have to varnish it to stop the weather ruining it. I just sat it there to see what it looked like and take a pic to show you.
Bit of a funny. Imagine digging and finding a singlet with blood and a purse! Has murder written all over it! lol!
Right enough of that! Oprah Episode done
Let’s Sunday summaryyyyyyyyyyyyyy
For me, March is loaded with it. Both my parents died in March. Different days, different years. And both left me scarred. Like I’m healed. But the scars stay.
Short Story: my dad’s dna and my mums purse are buried in my backyard coz I’m nuts.
Long story: My dad is probs not my dad. I came to this conclusion because he would tell me to find my real dad when he was drunk lolling. So during his long drawn out death, I was handed a blood soaked singlet to wash after a medical procedure went a bit askew, and I kept it coz I thought once he’s dead I’m gonna do dna and find out once and for all. It sat in my cupboard like a smoking gun for nearly 20 years. Keeping me tied to the hurt and drama. A few years ago I confided to a friend and they said something like “control the narrative and let it go, it’s not going to change anything”. Those words hit me like a slap. And I decided yes. End the chapter. So I buried his singlet in my backyard and added a cross.
Then my mum, who was my main torturer, an abusive alcoholic who couldn’t keep her knickers on (apple didn’t fall far
lolling) was found dead in her bed, she lay there for a few days in the March heat. She overdosed on whiskey and oxy. Police guessed it was the 28th of this month, but I asked the copper if he could guesstimate it to the 27th, coz the 28th is my nephews birthday and I didn’t want that tied to his special day, and he changed it. So I’m the oldest, so of course it fell to me to clean her rented unit and pay for the forensic clean. I literally smelled her for two years. Every time I smelled something bad, like if my dog Bill farted, or a rubbish bin stank, anything bad, I could smell her body as it lay in that bed, the images of her mattress stored in my brain just to flash me for added mental torture. The mind is a terrible thing once it’s in high trigger alert. Anyhoo, I had her purse, and omg finding my boys crumpled up photo in it hurt me like I was cut with a knife, that she kept him there. That he mattered to her. So couple of years after her death I thought, control the narrative. End the chapter. So I did. Her purse is buried next to dad’s singlet and I added another cross lol. Having a tiny place just for them has helped me cleanse the memories a bit. Make it kinda sweet and beautiful. I sit flowers there to remember them, coz there was love. I loved them. I loved them both. And I want to forgive them. So my big rock idea made me think of a test rock. So I made them a head stone! And I’m fully aware it looks like a child did it, but it has my little cemetery looking prettier. Well I think it has.
I still have to varnish it to stop the weather ruining it. I just sat it there to see what it looked like and take a pic to show you.
Bit of a funny. Imagine digging and finding a singlet with blood and a purse! Has murder written all over it! lol!
Right enough of that! Oprah Episode done
Let’s Sunday summaryyyyyyyyyyyyyy
The Flower Girls
The Veg Girls
