Mirror mirror on the wall

How do you keep on caring what you look like when your partner doesn't seem to care?

When I've been single I've made an effort for myself. But it's different when I have a partner. Then I make the effort for them as well. And I suppose I rely on the feedback and hopefully the appreciation.

But in a relationship where there is minimal physical intimacy I've had to do a lot of work to stop myself from waiting for any sort of comment or reaction about the way I look or what I'm wearing. Compliments are less regular than a suburban train I'm afraid. It's a long and uncertain wait if you can be bothered.

At first it hurt a lot. I used to put some effort into how I dressed (not consistently I must say but that made the times when it happened more noteworthy). I would go nervously back to the mirror to see if I'd made a mistake, left my skirt tucked into my undies, was sporting Courtney-Love-style-lippy or a Janet Jackson Superbowl wardrobe malfunction.

But gradually I've learned not to expect any comment at all. I know he's not seeing me in that way; even that he's afraid any remark in that direction might falsely raise my expectations.

But it takes a lot of mental energy to sustain the effort to dress up when it's only me who cares. Not a terribly feminist stance on the surface of it.

On the other hand, I've really started not to care how I look. I'm tired, both emotionally and physically. I work outside the home and do the majority of housework as well. I look after a three year old.

Also I had only in my late 20s come to find a way to accept a love of self-adornment as part of an overall rejection of the stereotypical expectations of women.

I have never wanted to define myself by my appearance nor spend a disproportionate amount of time, energy or money on making myself "acceptable" to society in terms of the way I look.

So my idea of dressing up might involve shiny boots and red lipstick one day, even low cut dresses and boofy hair. But the choices I make might be judged harshly by those who believe that you have to be this size or that shape to wear this top or that skirt (or bikini or colours or flat heels).

So I've been quite practised at not caring what society at large might think of me. I had a sense of my self worth, a confidence in my physicality that was not dependent on mainstream depictions of beauty.

Sadly though I must admit that this confidence is eroded when the one you love seems ambivalent.

And I've followed up that self doubt by traipsing down my partner's path of disengagement with the physical self. He has his reasons and I have mine.

Flo

Getting involved

It's one of those crazy Catch 22 things that exercise and keeping active generally really can help with depression; but when you're depressed it's like your own eyelids weigh a tonne so blinking and breathing use up pretty much all your energy and jogging, for example, is pretty remote in the solar system of possibilities.

But somehow, while J was well, he got involved in a community project that he cared about. And then it had a life of its own and sort of carried him along with it even when he was down, so he had little choice but to continue on.

I really think this has made a huge difference in his life. He's feeling effectual and useful. He can see that he's having an impact on the world around him and it's a positive one.

It's a bit like the origin of living things on this planet - a one-in-a-gazillion chance meeting of the right conditions and voila - life. That's what this feels like. Except maybe it's not one-in-a-gazillion. I'm hoping the chances are a lot greater than that. It's just a matter of waiting for those conditions to come around.

I didn't push. It had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with me. This is 100% about him and his interests and his efforts.

Flo

Father's Day

This is the only holiday that doesn't bring my partner down. Special occasions tend to be very stressful. There's the imperative to have a good time followed by feelings of failure that result from not being able to meet those expectations.

But Father's Day has always (well all three of them so far) been a day when J has seemed happy. I make a bit of a fuss (well, this year that involved a cup of instant coffee before I left for work) and then leave him to spend time with our son.

We all have our doubts about our effectiveness as parents sometimes and I think with depression these doubts go much deeper. I know for J he is always very anxious not to repeat his own father's abusive behaviour and this is a very significant influence on his style of parenting.

I wonder if in some ways the extreme contrast between what he experienced as a child and what he is doing as a parent actually helps him to see that in fact he is succeeding at being a good father.

The differences are so obvious that he could hardly doubt it. This is one area where he can always see very clearly that he has not failed and so it makes him feel good.

I know that's not going to be the same for everyone. What happens on these occasions for your family? How do you handle it?

Flo

Sleepless in New York

Dear SNY,

I'm so sorry. I changed the name of this blog midway through a conversation.

I had a sickening vertiginous moment last night when my partner asked me what black dog ate my homework was about.

He'd seen it in the browsing history of our computer when looking for something else. It was followed by the words "violent alcoholic".

He asked if I had meant him. I honestly responded that it was his father I had been thinking of. And then we had a short talk about the fact that I did look for support on the net regarding his depression and its various components.

I must confess to being surprised about his encouragement in that regard. He felt it was only fair and right and promised that he would never read anything that looked private.

It was great to have that talk but I still wouldn't want him to find this site. I think it would cause him pain to read these things.

And so, in case he changed his mind about not looking a little deeper, I quickly changed the name of this blog.

I sincerely hope that you find me here again. I look forward to your comments. They are insightful, interesting and thought provoking. I am sure others gain from them too.

Flo

Bangarra

I have a feeling that a lot of parents with young kids feel devoid of energy for fun; like our engagement with music and other pursuits are in the past, a distant time when we had energy. I guess being in this particular situation with a depressed partner makes those things seem even more remote.

Lucky for me I was shaken out of that particular miserable delusion a few days ago. By chance a free ticket to see Bangarra Dance perform their new work - Earth and Sky - came my way.

I'll admit it here - I don't go to see dance or theatre very much. I feel vaguely embarrassed by the live aspect of both, by people putting themselves out in a such a vulnerable way in front of me. It's too intimate a lot of the time (particularly when it disappoints).

But I am so glad that I went. I really liked the fact that they had specific things to tell me through their dances. I was not left solely to my own interpretation of the movements on stage (afraid to be left to my own thoughts in a dark room no?).

I was amazed by the strength of feeling and clarity of understanding engendered by watching the dancers move, their costumes and sets, the music. I suppose this is why people go and see them. Now I know and I am converted. I will be saving my pennies (many hundreds of them unfortunately) to go again.

And up (a bit)

Okay, so this was a shallow dip. I'm relieved of course. Very relieved. So why do I feel so sick to the stomach?

I need to work on separating myself a lot more from his cycles. If I don't do that consciously I just fall back into it. His moods are like a whirlpool at the centre of our house. I need to constantly swim strongly, keep to my course, not be lulled into laziness by a quiet week or two or three.

Gosh, so dramatic isn't it? I'm nervous too. I think this blog may have been discovered (hence the name change).

Flo

And down

Here we are again. I was once more getting used to things being so lovely. But of course here we are again.

And I was wondering this time just what is the point of revisiting the subject. If you're reading this you'll have been here before - up and down and up and down and up and inevitably, unfairly, (how could I allowed myself to believe that we wouldn't be here) down again.

This time the catalyst was a phone call J made to his parents. As mentioned before, his childhood was a less than happy one. And without fail any contact with his folks sends him back to a dark place.

It's not that they're awful people. They're just mired in their own problems - alcoholism and poverty being two significant ones. There's never been time for J and there isn't much time now for him or his son (a second rejection that he feels keenly).

A conversation draws him back into their world where bad luck is expected and few things go the way you want them to. Resignation is the dominant theme.

And so my happy, engaged, loving partner is once more too tired to move. His eyes are red-rimmed; the pupils tiny pinpoints in a haze of glacier blue. He's retreated somewhere far behind them where I can't reach.

I guess the point of writing about this yet again is so I can see that I have come a little way. I really do know it's not about me. So now he has at least one less self-absorbed person in his life.

Flo

Active (not all about jogging)

One of the many terrible things about depression is that there is nothing left over, after the struggle to simply remain alive, for any other concerns. Those of us who live with a sufferer feel this keenly. It's why I write this blog. Maybe it's why you're reading it.

But there's no energy for other kinds of engagement either. One of the things that I love about J is his deep sense of social responsibility. He cares a great deal about social justice. We don't always agree on everything but I love his passion. Or I loved it until it went the way of so many other good things.

Since he's been on the up again it's been amazing to see this quality start to re-emerge. On the weekend we went to a rally to support gay marriage. I was ready to go without him (T and I are used to that).

So it was fantastic to stand side by side with J in the cause of something we believe in. It was amazing to see him with enough energy to care about a thing, to leave the house for it.

We were with friends and I wanted to say, look, there he is, this is the man I love. I know they must wonder about why our relationship still exists. I think they know a little better now.

Stand up and be counted

On an optimistic note mental health is getting quite a bit of attention during this election campaign.

There's a GetUp campaign working with Australian of the Year Patrick McGorry to draw attention to the actions that need to be taken to address mental health care needs in this country.  (If you sign petitions, this is a good one.)

There was even a candlelight vigil in Melbourne attended by hundreds of people who felt that the issue was important enough to turn up to on a cold winter's evening. There are more planned around the country too if you're interested in joining in or hosting one yourself.

Usually the things I write about in this blog tend to be, well, a bit of downer really don't they? I guess that's inevitable given the subject. So it feels good to be able to point to something and say look, there's some positive action being taken. People are talking about mental health. It's not in the shadows any more. We are not alone, sadly, not by a long shot.

Grand designs

I'll be the first to admit that I'm a schemer. Grand plans pop into my head, I obsess about them for varying lengths of time. Some come to fruition and others waft away on the breeze like dandelion seeds.

Here's one that keeps recurring.

I want to go and live overseas for six months. I want to go back to the country where I was born (warm, small, far away from here).

I want my son to learn the language and know a little of where his mother comes from. I want my partner to understand that not all of my ways are about my personality; that some of them are cultural.

It's daunting to think what packing up our lives, flying around the world, finding another house and settling into another country where he doesn't know the language will do to J. I know it will be hard for him to cope.

He can't bear talking about the future, making plans. Accapting a dinner invitation a week away is overwhelming. With regard to this idea, he can't get past what we will do with the cat while we're gone.

Don't get me wrong; I love the cat too. But I'll figure it out for her, and us.

If only I can take a breath deep enough to let the instant negativity wash over me. We won't have enough money. Six months is too long. You're not realistic. What about the cat? I don't want to talk about it. There's too much to sort out. I just want to relax for once.

On the other hand, do I want to carry around the resentment that will surely build if we don't do this? I look around and see how the people I admire are not held back. They have ideas and they try them out. Sometimes the outcome is not what was planned. Nonetheless, they are not standing still, treading water.

Which is what is happening to me, to my life. We get by. I am so sick of just getting by.

Where have your grand plans gone? Have you jumped in anyway, made them happen in spite of the limitations? Are you putting them on hold?

Flo

Mental as anything (or fun facts for federal elections)

Down here at the arse end of the world (an affectionate term from the mouth of an ex-prime minister, really truly) we're suffering through  in the midst of a federal election campaign.

I thought it might be interesting to compare mental health policies from the three main parties. (Quick summary: Labor is in power here, Liberals are currently in Opposition, the Greens are far smaller but look set to possibly hold the balance of power in the Senate which is our Parliament's house of review.)

In fact their plans all look very similar. The general idea seems to be to provide more early intervention and more support for people within the community. It all looks very good on paper. I'm looking forward to watching Insight tomorrow night (SBS) where they're focussing on how the parties are planning to tackle mental health if they win office at the end of next month.

What would really help J in terms of his depression would be subsidising what I guess you could call complementary therapies: a gym membership, massage, weekly counselling sessions (as opposed to monthly ones, covered to a point, for six months and then subject to review), Chinese medicine (which J has had much better success with than with anti-depressants).

I'm very glad that funding is going to acute mental health services. But I wish there was something out there for the stuff we live with every day. J manages to get by. He still has a roof over his head. He takes care of himself as much as is required to get by in society. He can go on like this until he dies (early) without qualifying for any help at all.

I'd be keen to know of any initiatives that look interesting to you. Or if you're not in Oz, what kinds of programs are offered in your country which you find particularly useful (or otherwise)?

Flo


PS - Here are some quotes lifted directly from the ALP, Liberal and Green Party websites.

Labor:
•the Government will provide $57 million over four years for more flexible individual care packages, supporting clinical and non-clinical care, for up to 25,000 people with severe mental illness living in the community;

•the Government will also invest new funding of $13 million for more mental health nurses to provide services in the community and support clinical care for people with severe mental illness;


•$617.5 million currently being provided for successful community-based services for people with severe mental illness and their families such as Personal Helpers and Mentors services, Support for Day to Day Living, and Mental Health Respite and Community Based projects, will be linked and coordinated with the primary health care organisations being established as part of the National Health and Hospitals Network.
 
The Government will invest new funding totalling $78 million over four years in up to 30 new youth-friendly mental health centres, extra funding for the existing 30 headspace sites, and improvements to telephone and web¬based services for young people.


This investment will support an additional 20,000 young people a year once the new sites are up and running.


A total of $25 million over four years will expand the Early Psychosis Prevention and Intervention Centre (EPPIC) model– a holistic service aimed at addressing the clinical and social support needs of people aged 15-24 with emerging psychotic disorders currently operating only in Victoria.


The Commonwealth will partner with interested states and territories to expand the model to new locations. With state and territory contributions, this will benefit up to 3500 young people through improved detection, earlier treatment and support for early psychosis.


The Government’s new $1.6 billion investment over four years in sub-acute beds will include support for more people with severe, episodic mental illness to access the care that they need.


Liberal:
For the first time, the Coalition’s Real Action Plan for Better Mental Health will provide a nationwide network of staged care to assist Australians access quality mental health services and pursue productive and fulfilling lives. This will include:

20 Early Psychosis Intervention Centres;
800 mental health beds; and
60 additional youth headspace sites. The headspace sites were established by the former Coalition Government in 2006. They provide one-stop-shops for young people aged 12 to 25 years with information and services relating to general health and wellbeing, mental health and alcohol and drug services.


The headspace sites will be supported by the Early Psychosis Intervention Centres.
 
Greens:
37. increase funding to mental health services in collaboration with states and territories, particularly to prevention models, and hospital and community-based support, assessment and suicide prevention services.
38.establish properly resourced, strategically located 24 hour community mental health services, staffed by the full range of mental health professionals.
39.expand community-based support services and agencies to enable people with chronic mental and/or physical illnesses, and their carers, to live in and participate more fully in their communities.
 
$100 million for funding of community prevention and recovery centres
• $145 million for early intervention programs
• $100 million incentive payments to provide services for the most vulnerable in our community.

"Under our proposal existing Medicare mental health schedule fees would be supplemented by incentive payments for GPs; consulting psychiatrists and psychologists working together to provide additional access and services for the most needy, vulnerable and long-term clientele working within community and NGO sector.


"Every hospital-based mental health service should be linked with a multi-disciplinary community-based sub-acute service that supports ‘stepped' prevention and recovery care. $100 million would pay for 60 community-based services with 8-12 beds per centre.


"We need a national network of one-stop shop community mental health centres accessible by public transport and centrally location, 24 hour on-duty and on-call mobile crisis teams working as part of primary health care organisations. There needs to be additional training for GPs and nurses to triage mental health appropriately, and there should be a mental health professional on 24hr call within every emergency department.

"We have already called on the government to fund early intervention mental health programs including: Communities of Youth services, early psychosis prevention and intervention services, Lifeline suicide hospital discharge and treatment plan and a new Lifeline freecall number," Senator Siewert said.

 

Oh What a Beautiful Mornin'

And just to prove that there's no rhyme or reason to the pattern of J's depression, this morning should have been in technicolour for all its cheesy, happy, look-at-us how wonderful we are vibe going on.

Today the three of us caught the same train into town - J on his way to work and T and I to have banana bread and meet up with friends at a park.

We chatted. We talked about our visit to the Blue Mountains last year. T and J laughed a lot.

People on the train smiled (because of course my kid is incredibly irresistible but quite apart from that) because people generally smile at happy family scenes and curious articulate toddlers reminiscing like old men about the good old days in that yellow thing without wheels (cable car) and we should really do that again shouldn't we?

For a finale you couldn't have written a more touching farewell between father and son - enormous hugs, a kiss and then as we alight onto the platform, a turn, a wave and "I love you daddy".

And that's what we looked like, and indeed were this morning. A happy family. Beautiful. Even though it was wet and cold outside our mornings don't get better than this.

I have absolutely no idea how this came about, this stunningly wonderful normal looking happiness. I'm not extrapolating anything from it apart from the joy of the moment (and the memory of that joy, but no expectations certainly).

Do you have times like these? Had any lately that you can live off until the next one?

Flo

Don't take it personally

Really, even though you're the one on the receiving end. It's not about you.

It's not about you when they ignore you or take offence at everything you've said, misrepresent your words, take them out of context, use they to prove their theory that life is indeed totally fucked and everyone hates them.

It's not you.

If you were being fired from a job or dumped by a lover, then it's a ridiculous phrase. It's a way to opt out of the arduous task of being both honest and kind. Of course it's about you.

Explanations are what people want. And they're hard to give but they're a mark of true respect.

We're letting you go because our company is cutting back and you are the highest paid employee. We're letting you go because we want people who can commit more time to the job.

I'm breaking up with you because I need someone who's more into the things I'm into. We don't have the same interests any more.

It is personal, but it narrows it down. It's not because I'm incompetent then. Or unloveable.

Depression on the other hand? The way you're being spoken to, engaged with - it's really not personal from the point of view of someone in the throes of depression. Caught up, crushed. All energies focused on the basics of existence.

It wouldn't matter who you were, how you behaved, what you wore or did or said. It still wouldn't be about you. It couldn't be.

And so I am not taking it personally. Even though it's turning me into that crazed woman in her backyard muttering profanties at the compost heap. (It's not about me. What an arsehole. Every god damn thing has to be a huge drama. I don't need this.)

Even though that's what I need to do to get through it, then I get to walk back in the house as if nothing has happened (because it hasn't, not really).

And I don't walk back in until I'm done with whatever I'm doing out there; something I can focus on totally (planting those beans that have been sitting in the shed for six months this time around).

Back inside I can be quite separate from his anger. Small price to pay.

What about you? What does "don't take it personally" meant to you, personally?

Flo

Hot and bothered

Just when I thought I was safe, wrapped up in winter thermals, deeply unattractive socks and a thick layer of stay-at-home-housewifery, desire has managed to poke through again, like a tenacious weed through a carefully laid garden bed. (You see? I didn't have to choose those words did I?)

I thought I was truly okay with the absence of sex in my life (yes, we're back to that) but for some reason that I can't fathom, suddenly I am not. Suddenly people are sparkling with that electric possibility again. Words are laced with flirtation. And I want to come home and jump someone's bones. I really do.

But I hit a wall. How did I forget that wall? Gosh it hurts. Goodness gracious it's annoying. Maybe this is the impetus I need to take up running again.

I was half listening to an interview last week with the Archbishop of Melbourne and he was talking about celibacy. He doesn't think that physical intimacy is a "basic human need" as suggested by the interviewer.

"What I think is the important point that both of us would agree on is that we all need friendship, companionship, support," he said.


I throw myself into friendships, work, parenting. All these things benefit from a passionate aproach and are very rewarding.

But there is no equivalence for me. They are different things. I am a physical creature as much as an emotional one. And much as I find the combination of love and sex a wonderful thing, I also have no problem with the separation of the two.

So this is one big sacrifice for me, giving up sex. It's like Lent all the god damned time. Challenging enough in a relationship which does involve sex - pretty excruciating in one that does not.

And it's the middle of winter so no cold showers.

There endeth the bloody great enormous whinge.

Flo.

Lost: friend

A while ago I wrote about a friend of mine who was in a violent relationship. Tonight I lost her as a friend.

She was coming around for dinner. She asked at the last minute if he could come and I was forced to state my position at that moment; which is that I don't want him to come here, to my house. I don't feel safe around him. I don't judge her but I do judge him.

Her position is that they've worked through it. They spent the last six months working through what happened and they're moving beyond it. She says that if I can't get past it then it's my loss. And if she has to choose then she will always choose him. (Though I don't think I asked her to choose. But did I?)

It was awful. I heard the anger in her voice. And I saw her filing me with everyone else who made that decision before me.

Do I really feel that people can't change? Is it possible that this man who behaved so aggressively is capable of never doing that again? At what point are people allowed to leave their past behind and move on, as she says he has?

The truth is that my decision was not about her at all. It was about me and my family. I don't want that man in my house. I don't want him near my child. What if the situation deteriorates between them and he comes around here looking for her one day?

I don't want to be part of a world where one person can do that to another. Or at any rate, I do not want to bring any more of that world into mine than already exists. (Doubtless there are domestic situations in my sphere of acquaintances that I know nothing about.)

I admit I am afraid of allowing the possibility, the very whif of violence into my house. If this man is capable of dragging someone by the hair, slamming them up against the wall, chasing them around a house, how do I know where his limits are?

Maybe I could meet him somewhere in public, in a group of people, where I wasn't force to make conversation with him for an entire evening. I want the opportunity to do this without pressure. Although even then, how can I speak to him knowing what he's done? How can we ever be friends?

There was one thing she said to me that made feel afraid for her. Made me feel sick to hear. She said that her mistake was telling me about what had happened; that my rejection of him was her fault and she took responsibility for that.

Now I'm afraid that she won't tell anyone next time.

I feel sick and sad that I have lost this friendship. This woman was there during my labour. She was there at the very beginning of T's presence in this world. She supported me through a time of fear and pain. And I have now shut her out. I don't know how to help. I fear I've done the wrong thing and yet I am afraid to do anything different.

Flo

Now is the winter

It's bloody freezing here in Sydney. More so if you're inside our house. And I mean that in the literal sense (not being clever about being frozen out of J's thoughts while he's down).

It's had a weirdly positive effect on us. I know you're going to think we're a bunch of hippies when I tell you this, but we all sleep in the same bed. There are enough beds for everyone, it's just that we prefer to be together - or at least until one adult gets a toddler kick in the head too many. And then the adult simply shifts to the single bed at the foot of the big bed, in the same room.

Cosy isn't it? Or certainly in winter it is. We don't have heating, just a lot of doonas and body warmth. It's always like one big camp out around here.

And it kind of counters the lack of touch in my relationship with J. It's a big part of his depression, a reluctance to be touched. When he's down he flinches if I move forward suddenly or stretch out a hand towards him. Even when he's well he's still quite wary of physical contact with anyone.

But when we all sleep in the same bed it can hardly be helped. And because of the cold he seems okay with that.

How's that for putting a bright spin on things?

Flo

Don't panic

Living with someone who has depression can feel in many ways like being in a parallel universe. Often it feels like a universe which is just slightly out of kilter with the one that everybody else lives in. It's only a fraction out so you can see each other and hear each other; but the two worlds operate in subtly different ways.

I wish I had a guide to this universe. And if I did, it would also have on the front cover in big bold print the words: DON'T PANIC. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy did its bit to get me through adolescence and its advice has proved salient many times since.

Since J started showing signs of depression again I felt like I was falling into the deep end of a very cold pool. But anyway, panic is what I did. It wasn't a daub myself in ochre and run laps around the bathroom kind of thing. (Doesn't everyone panic like that?)

It's just that my heart started to beat faster and more loudly, my breathing was more shallow.

Luckily all the reading and thinking and listening to the advice of those who have inhabited similar places for longer than I hasn't been completely wasted on me. I surprised myself by pulling back reasonably well.

And so far things haven't been too bad anyhow. He was properly down for a full day. He seemed to spring back a little the next day and was able to discuss what he was feeling. I could even suggest that he see his counsellor sooner than his next appointment if need be, to which he agreed.

Is this progress? Either way, panic is best avoided. But there's definitely a bit of a gap between what I know intellectually about how to handle this and what I know emotionally. Emotional me is running a little behind.

Flo

It's back

Well of course it is.

I'm glad we did all the things we did while it was away; glad we had the chance to remember our relationship, do some repairs, build on it a bit.

(You know, I think I'm getting too involved in those reality house make-over shows. All my metaphors are structural.)

Do you remember a book called The Time Traveller's Wife?

Young lovers often believe themselves crossed by fate or by time, but those in Niffenegger’s spirited first novel have more reason than most. Henry suffers from Chrono-Impairment—a quasi-medical condition that catapults him, unwillingly, from one random point in time to another. Clare first meets him in 1977, when she is six and he materializes near her parents’ garden as a thirty-six-year-old from 2000; he returns regularly throughout her childhood from different times in their shared future. At last, when Clare is twenty and Henry twenty-eight, they meet in his present, and the relationship begins in earnest. But romance proves even trickier than usual when one person keeps vanishing to distant, and occasionally dangerous, times... (Read more: The New Yorker - Books briefly noted) 

When I first read this novel I felt like she was writing about our relationship. It's perhaps the best fictional description I've ever read about living with someone who has depression.

It's just that J was present for such an extended period this time, I really hoped (foolishly) that it might be for a very long time.

I don't know yet how long it will last. He had a bad day yesterday, all day. He still attended a social occasion though. He didn't spend the day in bed.

But the physical contact has stopped. His emotional presence in our household has diminished. He has retreated. So while he hasn't entirely disappeared I can see him fading. I can almost see through him.

So I guess now is the time to remember all of things I've learned about how to deal with this. Go over my notes. Something about giving him the space he needs yeah? Maintaining the boundaries right?

Flo

The king is dead. Long live the queen.

Australia has its first female Prime Minister.

I happened to be sitting in a café when it happened. There were no TVs or radios or laptops about. I found out because friends had been texting during the morning, keeping each other appraised of the latest we’d heard.

I felt like I should stand up and make an announcement: People, we have a new Prime Minister. We have our first woman Prime Minister.

(I didn’t of course. I just stared about, trying to read the faces around me, wondering if they knew.)

Julia Gillard seems to be an incredibly competent person. She’s handled several portfolios at once. Her electorate seems happy with her representation. When she was acting prime minister (which was quite often) they say she got through the paperwork like nobody’s business.

She deals with the media calmly. In fact she kept them well in their place at her press conference, no easy feat, making them wait their turn to ask a question.

She communicates her intentions very clearly and her statements are informative.

Importantly she does not conform to many of our society’s conservative expectations of womanhood or of politicians.

She is not married. She does not have children. She is not religious.

I am sorry that her leadership came about this way – impatient factional powerbrokers bowing to the polls and buying a little into the Opposition’s frenetic rhetoric about an electorate who would not/ could not (sorry, that’s a bit Green Eggs and Ham) support the outgoing leader, Kevin Rudd.

I think they underestimated people’s ability to be patient. I know big things take time. I can wait to see where a leader will take us.

It’s a bit like an emergency Ceasarean section. It’s not the birth that was planned - no transition period, not a lot of choice for the main participants. But it’s the one that happened.

And now here we are. Suddenly we have our first female Prime Minister.

But she’s no innocent babe. She’s an old hand at this already. Leadership is just the next logical step, the mantle that was inevitably her due.

I'm curious to see what she will do differently; whether things will move forward with respect to matters like mental health, paid parental leave, environmental issues, genuine consultation with other parties and representatives. I'd like to think so.

Enough gushing from me now. I wanted to give an emotional response. There will be plenty of others today from more political and intellectual viewpoints, many of which I’m looking forward to reading.

Politics has a profoundly emotional impact on J and on me. It’s one of the reasons we first got together.

We both cried (yes, really) as we watched Kevin Rudd give his farewell speech. And it felt good to be standing shoulder to shoulder again.

Flo

In defence of repression

I wonder if I'm always going to be nervous at the first sign of a bad mood. You know, a grumpy morning, a string of swear words heard from another room. Every time J stubs his toe (and reacts in the way that anyone else would) am I going to wonder if this heralds the end of a golden era?

I'm vigilant in a fairly low key way about my own mood. Having suffered from depression in the past I know when I need to step in to stop myself from sinking. And I also know when it's an appropriate level of sadness or just an off day.

But reading someone else is another matter all together. Hypervigilance is such a big part of the prison that is living with a depressed person. I am keen to stop myself from falling into that deep dark hole.

But I'd be lying if I were to say that I can be totally relaxed about things. I am quite afraid that this won't go on for much longer. I'm worried that it might be a bit like the start of a holiday, long dreamt of, saved up for, hardly dared hope for. And then before you know it you're back at work and it's behind you.
I have this very vivid memory from when I was nine. I was on my way to the pool. I had looked forward to it all week. And as I was walking down the hall, swimmers on, the smell of chlorine already in my nostrils I suddenly thought, but soon I'll be on my way back up this same hall, on my way home, my swim in the past.

And then (because I must have been one hell of a neurotic nine-year-old) I wondered if this is what it would be like to be suddenly 80 years old. One day I'm nine with countless years ahead and a very short while later I am in fact looking back down that hall at my nine-year-old self.

I have tried hard to forget that thought so of course it's taken up residence just on the periphery of my day-to-day and every now and again, like a recurring cold sore, it replays itself, reminding me that each day brings me closer to its fulfilment.

Of course as I get older I rather hope that I'll get to 80 and that I'll still be remembering things. But for now I wish there was some kind of filing cabinet I could put it in or some device that allowed it out only when it was going to be useful rather than just make make me sweat a little, breathe a bit faster and fret needlessly.

I could of course file my current fear about J's depression returning in the same drawer. I'll stick the folder under R for repressed or N for neurosis.

Then I'll stop having administrative fantasies (it's been pretty much downhill since 1984).

Flo