father and ACC

So, do you want the good news or the bad news first …

…. dunno why we say that … theres just news really, neither good nor bad … any who …


Ok, bad it is …

Apparently; according to a rather untimely snail mail letter today, from the almighty ACC … I am up for yet another assessment.

Why you ask?

Well, apparently, again, the last assessment was a pre-assessment assessment. Didn’t know they existed did yah … well, apparently, they do!

…. but do you realise how long it took Me to get ready for the last assessment which y’all said was all I needed to do … and do you realise how long it took to get over the last assessment which y’all said was I all I needed to do?

Thats right … fucking ages!

But since I’ve been waiting, like, 5 or so years for that pre-assessment assessment and then another 6 months for those results … only to be told the assessment that I thought was what i was waiting for all this time is actually only the pre-assessment assessment and that assessment is pending … I could be in for another 5 year wait???

No. Of course not … *she says ultra sarcastically so she neither cries or laughs hysterically at the absurdity of the whole fucking thing … cos all this time, she’s still the one sitting on a cool $35 smack-a-roos a week … yes, thats right … the sum total of … *

Ahhhhhh     …. deep breaths …. deep breaths …

So, onto the good news …

Sure thing …

I spoke with my father.

He apologised … for not listening; for being a shit father; for not ever ever being around; for going on about shit I don’t give a fuck about; for not listening; for not getting to know Me; for not visiting; for not ever ringing; for not listening; …. for barging his way into my life … full of grief and anxiety … and expecting Me to be my sisters replacement … for taking Me for granted … oh … and for not listening!

He finally told Me about his life … his actual life … he answered my questions … and gave Me real answers. He talked about my sister … who she was to him … what she was like … as a person … as a mother. He finally talked about his regrets and his hopes … his failures and his wins … the real ones.

And he finally, finally, asked Me about Me.

So, there we have it … the ups and the downs … the good and the bad … for today.

Now I can sleep … hopefully … because as much as I thought I had kicked insomnias ass … I haven’t been to sleep before 2.30am and slept more than a few hours, for a couple weeks now … and I’m exhausted.

I’ll be fucked if I know how I survived on 3-4 hours sleep for the past 35+ years … oh, thats right … I didn’t.

i’m not going to call it insomnia … its just a ‘moment’

I haven’t had one of these nights for awhile … 2:56am, and I’m not asleep … I don’t want to be asleep … but I do … but I can’t …

So, I’m trying to just roll with it and do all the things I’ve learnt; have been doing for the past year … relax … calm the farm … not worry … keep on clearing out my head … breath slowly …

I guess though, if I end up being awake all night … I’ll get to enjoy my coffee earlier … I’ve only got another 3 hours 😉

oh, did i tell yah..

I had nine

yes 9,

hours of sleep last night.

1st time ever!

It wasn’t completely nightmare free.

But it was manageable!


9 whole hours.


insomni~atic eureka :)

I’ve had insomnia ~ technical who-ha for, sleeping like shit ~ for … ever. 4 hours has always been a long sleep, 2-3 the norm. And it’s always been ‘aided’. Alcohol, drugs, combos, sleeping pills … exhaustion. And still only 2-4 hours at a time.

The last 5ish years have been a benzodiazepine rabbit hole shitfest.

I enjoyed being able to sleep, solid … but still only got 4-5 hours, if I was lucky.

And none of this takes into consideration the fucked up nightmares that have always accompanied sleep land … but that’s another story.

Anyway, I have had a love hate relationship with zoppys (as i affectionately called them) over the past 5 years. After a few years, realising they were addictive; thanks to Google, not the doctor grrrr … and then slowly trying to wean myself off’ve them.

Well that took another year or so but I finally did it about a month or so ago. Thank fuck!

But, its meant that I just have to roll with the no sleep thing, if it happens. On a good night, I’ll get 6 hours sometimes … and that’s pretty fucken impressive for me! The dreams can be vivid and sometimes hard to handle, but manageable, now I know whats what.

So, last night, I decided to try something new.

I was tired at 10pm, and this is usually when I start to get anxious and put on another movie and try to wait it out till I’m so exhausted I pass out lol.

Instead, I told myself it was 2.30am (my most usual bedtime time lol). I took a bit of convincing; but ended up curling up into a ball, closing my eyes and reciting that mantra ~ “its 2.30am, go to sleep and you’ll get at least 4 hours before morning”.

Well, whataya fucken know! It worked!

I went to sleep before 10.30pm (real time) and woke up at 6am (real time)!!!

Seven and a half hours sleep!!! Unaided!!!

Whoop whoop … Yah Me 🙂

And I got to thinking this morning…

Our time (society) is based on our culture. As in, in a place like Italy, Spain … an afternoon siesta is the norm, cos its too dam hot to do anything else … that’s part of their environment, the culture … its their norm. Western culture seems to be more to do with productivity and making money … keeping the economy rolling. We are ‘supposed’ to hit school, work before 9am, finish at 3pm, or 5pm (depending on what we do) … we rush to get there, rush to get home…we eat in a hurry…have fun in a hurry…sleep in a hurry. Sleep is based on the time we’re not ‘being productive’, or not working. It has nothing to do with ‘US’ … and our ebbs and flows.

And what I mean by that is … for me … I’ve always had a lull in energy in the afternoon; 230-3ish. Then I’m re-energised around 930-10pm, usually. But a working day/week, does not fit into that.

The ‘sicker’ I became, the more I had to listen to my insides/my intuition, and figure out what was best for me.

My sleeping patterns, PTSD altered or not, don’t fit with productive ‘normal’ society. My norm doesn’t fit their norm. IT doesn’t fit MY norm!

Which in essence means, I’ve got to find my own norm ~ which I am doing to varying degrees … but as far as making money, or returning to ‘the workforce’, I don’t think that’s going to happen.

Strangely enough … I couldn’t give a rats ass.

I’ll find my own groove …

I think I’ll enjoy my own groove better 🙂


365 reasons to smile ~ 31.

31. My first night without these, since 2011 😃