Just another day

Just another exhausting day.

Waking at 7 AM the alarm had been going for about an hour. Six year old had his sports Day today and the excitement over breakfast was too exhilarating to him to eat. I negotiated the complexities of him eating an Apple and he argued that he could not eat it. Off to school for the day with his father and then stayed home. I think of Hannah as I walk out of our bedroom her windchime on the wall I brushed it and it sang to me. Personally, I am struggling with social anxiety, some depression and other medical complications. I avoid the doctor at all costs because I know what she will tell me. Sometimes my denial is bliss. Other times it is debilitating.

Today my plans were to cut out some more material in my sewing room, piece together another quilt, plan another quilt for a special baby, and redesign another passion for a little girl and sort out my nappy stash supplies. I need to so to keep my sanity. But then the inevitable happened. Into the “support” office I ventured contemplating the jobs on the list. There are quite many now. I am in the middle of the charity audit, two coronial inquest research projects, advertising campaigns, and trying to figure out how to raise more money. This is just the start of my day but I am not supposed to be in the Office today, I made this a ME day. Suddenly my day turns to shit.

I ventured a few e-mails taken a few calls, posted at few entries on Twitter and Facebook, sent a message to a family struggling today, browsed a few others in the foundation to see how they were going, get some light reading on the new legislation applicable to not-for-profit charities stop which was browsing over 289 pages from the ATO and I must understand all of it no doubt.

Then came the crunchers: a boy drowned in the Kimberley is in a river after getting his leg caught in a log, rescuers couldn't save him, another boy drowned at Silkstone, he's the fighting for life, and the search continues for a young man down the Gold Coast and two families needed more support than ever today on the phone. It’s only been a few weeks for them. My mind travels back to my first weeks. I was so lost and had no one to talk to. The constant worries the family has never subsides. A little boy in QLD is being transferred to Victoria for his funeral and his father is just so distraught. The pain in his voice reminds me of my husbands, the closeness between so many is too real and not many that is understood.

It is now 4:30 PM and I still haven't entered my sewing room, I still haven't planned any of my personal stuff, today is just another day in the office that I seem tied to. I need to get out, I need assistance, today is another day where I feel I am in a imprisoned. I long for a real job, with real pay, but without the responsibility of what I have. I long to be locked away in my sewing room where the music can run free, my mind can inspire the intricate designs that so many love and I can be me. Sounds selfish? Could be, but you see charity begins at home and I do love what we do. So many criticise what we do and are callous towards the greater good, sadly others don't know the meaning of charity. I won’t apologise for being an authoritarian that comes with being a military brat and a former soldier, I am disciplined and I know where my focus is. Helping others. Don't like it? who cares what you think. The families today appreciated the voice on the phone, don't see many others sitting here talking about pain, anguish the loss and the “where do we go to now” conversations. I get sick of the arses out there who constantly put us down, that too brings my day to a head after an online post was brought to our attention. All I can say is, for those who wish to berate us and put us down your actions speak louder about your intentions than it does mine and I truly don't care what you think. The uneducated don't know nothing about our lives that is grief and loss.

Now, it's off to plan dinner and to negotiate the inevitable with my ever hungry six-year-old who is too busy watching Star Wars. My little Jedi keeps me busy, he is adorable, loving, funny and quite smart. He says is now hungry but he is just drunk orange juice, eaten three muffins, had his Apple, and a biscuit. Tomorrow this all starts again and I just hope that I can plan my sewing and live in my sewing room and not have to deal with the encounters that I've dealt with today like I do every other day.

I want to know why the Government wont fund us and give me a full time staff member. All of this is because we grieve and others need support. Who helps the supporters? No one. We are alone on this journey and all we have is those who share the journey with us. We are not lucky by any class of measure, we are parents who struggle, those who are now lost, trying to rebuild a life without our child/ren. There is no word to describe us, we are not widows or orphans, we are to the world a nothing.

To us, we are parents who hurt, we long for our children to be in our arms again, that to me is worthy of a title.