Buckle up beeeaaaatches ………… public service announcement

I had a car accident last on the 12 February 2016 {listen I cannot even make this stuff up} …. its like karma is telling me I had it too good at some point, and now it is coming over to just show me how bad it can actually get.

Oh karma, no one wants you here — now go away.

I had just dropped the kids off at school, and I was driving on the same road I have driven for 9 years (so far – several more to go, lucky me).

Good weather conditions. Good visibility. I was no distracted. I was driving along as I do.  No rush, I was heading home to work.

The car in front of me had stopped to turn right (it was a dual road) – she was waiting on the on-coming traffic to clear so she could turn.

She was in the right place, she was indicating, she was doing nothing wrong.

The road is wide enough so that if someone is waiting to turn right, you have enough space to veer to the left of them and pass them without much issue (assuming no one is cycling or running on the side of the road) – its all very orderly and safe.

I do it every day – some days I drive this road 4 times, so I am well versed in how the traffic flows and how the road works.

For reasons I cannot explain – I just did not see her.

Fortunately the road climbs up a bit and there is a slight turn and there is a set of robots at the top of the hill (sort of thing) – so you are not bearing down at full speed, so are probably puttering along at maybe 40 km/h or slower depending on the morning traffic.

I saw the car in front of me when I hit her.

It was such a surreal moment.  I was driving.  Then my car sort of stopped. I felt my seat belt (thank fek I always wear a seat belt) pull me back – everything went in slow motion.

Stuff flew around the inside of the car.

I felt my head get pulled back, and my hair did that curtain thing on the side as my hair continued at the original speed I was moving at.  But in slow enough motion that I thought “mmm strange my hair looks like Sia’s in that video… – actually more the dancer when she is wearing the wig and dancing and her hair keeps swishing past her face..”  … the crazy shit you have time to think about when you are not flying through your windscreen.

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Earlier in the morning, my daughter had sat in the front seat and had knocked my makeup box open, so my makeup had opened and was on the floor. I had picked up a few items and put them on the seat next to me, and was going to deal with the rest when I got home.

One of the foundations squirted onto the window – no idea how that happened.

Clearly strange strange things happen when a moving vehicle hits a stationary one.

Neither of us was hurt – I was a bit bruised and my neck was a bit sore, but it was muscular, nothing more.

My car bonnet (with the engine) looks like a tent.  I don’t think they are designed to do that.  I hit her at full speed front on (me) – her at full force almost full back/back passenger side.

It was not even a “shit …..” brake, skid and then hit someone, I skipped that entire part.

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The car had to be taken away with a flat bed truck – it was not in a good condition, it was not going to be driven anywhere.

The other driver was able to drive away, her car was very damaged – but she was so very nice about it.  There was not the expected screaming and hitting me with a dull metal tool she found in her boot – she was very concerned for my well being and she was just very nice about the whole thing.

When clearly I was the “doos” who just wrecked her car.

No one was hurt.

I am pretty sure that my insurance (lets all fall on the floor in thanks for insurance) is going to scrap the car — I think the damage of the car is just to severe for it to be repaired (based on it’s book value and all the other things that statistical analysts use to make up probability theories and such stuff — clearly I have no idea how the magic works behind the scenes)

Okay, that’s my story.

If there is a lesson to learn here it is — wear your FUCKING SEAT BELT!!! Kids in the car should be buckled up.  If I had a child standing behind my seat between the two front seats (as I so often see on the morning and evening drive to collect and drop off kids) that child would have been head first straight through my windscreen.

Buckle up bitches!!

 

Image source:  http://nme.assets.ipccdn.co.uk/images/2015GrammyAwards_Sia_Getty463027570_10090215.article_x4.jpg

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When you try to shove your life into boxes …..

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Packing up a house easily rates as one of my least favourite past times.

I have been able to get out of it for the last 4 – 5 moves. I pretty much outsourced all packing and unpacking and went with the philosophy that I did not matter where something was unpacked as long as that I was not that someone doing the unpacking.

Unfortunately this time around it needed a lot of sorting and then packing.

The sorting became where all the time was spent.  I had little flashes of “Hoarders” as I rummaged through boxes with old diaries and paperwork, and tried to make the choice of whether to keep or to toss.

I did get a bit more brutal as the hours ticked by.

I spent a lot of time sorting out the garage – the garage had become the storage place of “all the shit we did not know what do do with” and there was quite a lot of stuff to sort through.

There were a lot of boxes that I had not opened since I had moved into this house.

A large part of the interior of the house was painted early last year and I had packed up all the pictures, books and ornaments .  I had to open each box and go through them to see what to keep, and what to toss – the packing was done to get the items out of the way of the painters, and there was no thinking in terms of what would go where and to which type of storage.

Here is the part I did not expect to find.

The life that Kennith and I had.

I found photographs, cards, letters and various other remnants of our life together.

I found the memories of our life in boxes.  In the garage.

Much of it I had forgotten – as you do.  I am not sure if it is just me, but the problem with Divorce – other than it sucking maggot dick, is that it focuses all your attention on the end part.

The part where he says “I want a divorce” and where you do not hear him and carry on talking about the dog.  Until he has to repeat himself and then you start realising that we are not talking about the dog.

My entire being has been trapped in that moment.  From that moment until this moment. That is where I have lived for the last two years or so.

I have existed in THIS space.

I saw photographs in the boxes that reminded me that we had a rich and gorgeous life.

We were happy people, with a lot of interests and things that drove us.  We did stuff, we went away for weekends, we spoke about all sort of things – we did things together, we showed dogs and we loved our dogs.

We had a life.

We had a happy life.

We had a life that was packed with memories.  And stuff.  And things.

I had forgotten it all, because I have been trapped in THIS.

This that is happening RIGHT NOW.

I won’t lie to you.  Moving out of my home, so that Kennith can move in and live with the children is my equivalent of bobbing.

I am not drowning. I am not furiously trying to kick my legs to stay afloat. I am just bobbing.

On the surface.  Face up, the rest of me under the water.

My ability to swim, to try to get anywhere has just evaporated.

I just bob and remain afloat.

Every now and then I get a mouthful of sea water and need to really cough up a lung to breath.  For the most part my eyes are red, and I am weary to the bone.  Tired and cold.

I desperately want people to circle around me and give me support.

I desperately want everyone to go away and just leave me alone.

I want to be with people so I do not feel so alone, so worried, so scared and such a desperate mess.

I want to not see anyone so that I can feel alone, worried and scared without having to give the impression of a “stiff upper lip.”  I want to be my desperate mess without people asking me why my makeup is smudged and my eyes are so red.

Hayfever.  I say. {I don’t suffer from hayfever, but if you give a half way plausible response, most people are happy to leave it at that}

I cannot describe how painful this packing is.  This move is.

I daily question my decision making.  I daily wake up feeling like shit before the day has even started. I heave myself out of bed.

Get vertical.  All you have to do is get vertical, everything else will follow.

I promise you — just get vertical.

I try and fill the hole with marshmallow easter eggs – 20 does not fill the hole, but it does make you feel violently ill a bit later.

I daily feel a panic attack coming on, which I manage to divert by going to lie on my bed and fall into a deep coma like sleep – or just sit and stare into space.

I find car parks are the best for this – no one bothers you and no one comes to ask you anything, you can sit in your car and just zone out.

I know what depression feels like – for me depression has always been a chemical issue.

It would not matter what is happening in my life, when depression came along, I could have just discovered the only true living unicorn who farted glitter and it would still make me feel flat …. absolutely flat.

This is a bit like depression …. but this is more despair, this is more brutal sadness, confusion and worry.

Nothing makes sense, everything feels like it is a right old fcuk up.

I am going through the motions of packing and getting my life ready to move out – to move away from my children.

There is nothing good happening here.

The problem is I am upset.  I take out my being upset and my confusion on the children, which is not exactly the image I wanted to leave with them.

But when they are asleep, I go and tell them how sorry I am and stroke their foreheads a bit.

Tell me again who said being an adult was going to be fun?

 

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