Honey, I faked it.

I'm going to open by saying I freaking love sex. I really do. It's great fun. I like it clean, or dirty and messy. I like it savage, I like it playful. I like it any which way but loose. [Ha... hahahaha... oh god. I'm hilarious.] I have a voracious appetite for it. Here's the thing: I practice sexual abstinence. Which is to say - I don't put out. At all. People have strange and varied reactions when I tell them this. It is apparently so shocking and unbelievable to them, that the general consensus seems to be that I'm bullshitting them and that what I really mean to say is "I will fuck anything that moves". As of the time of writing, I've been sexually inactive for just shy of three months. I haven't masturbated for about six weeks. I'll give you a moment to get over your shock and confusion.

The other main reaction, once the disbelief has faded, is curiosity. Why would you not want to have sex? The thing is, I do want to. I just choose not to. I suppose in such a highly sexualised world where even children's clothing has a pretty big raunch factor that to be so content to not get my shag on would be baffling to most people. I'm finding I'm copping an equal amount of shit for my abstinence as I am for my foray into veganism. Why the divide, people? Can any of you provide answers on this? Why is it so inconceivable that someone could actually be happy without sex? I understand why people are surprised that I don't get down and dirty on a regular basis considering my liberal use of smutty comments and humour, and my wicked tendency towards flirtation; but I don't get why it's such a big deal.

 My intent is to continue this way until at least my 28th birthday (late September '12); unless I meet someone I absolutely cannot resist, in which case I'm going to dive in head first. [I'm going to leave the innuendo to you, dear reader.] I can't make a plan without taking into account the bizarre and tricky things the universe likes to get up to. Like throwing a wonderful man (or woman) your way when you're actively avoiding any form of romantic and/or physical connection with your preferred gender. I haven't set myself any strict rules or boundaries. I am in a perpetual state of evolution, and I have made allowances for that fact. I am different every day. The great thing about being an independent and unattached adult is that I can do what (who...) I please. Or in this case, not do what (who...) I please.

Of course, none of that touches on my reasons for my choice(s). I guess there are a few factors to consider, and I'm sure there are more that I haven't realised yet. That being said, I must confess my biggest reason for keeping my legs shut - authenticity. At this point in my life any raunchy romps would be insincere, an absolute sham. While I have some incredibly sexy friends, I can no longer bring myself to have sex just because it's expected of me, or because I can't find a "good enough" reason to reject advances. Don't get me wrong, there are a few people I know who I'd just about sell my soul for a tumble with... but I refuse to be just another notch on someone's belt. I am special. I am wonderful, divine and incredible - and I deserve to be with someone who thinks so too. It's not that I'm sexually uptight; quite the opposite really. I just know, now, that I deserve to be loved for all of who and what I am, not just temporarily adored for what my body can do. Besides, I've done the fuck-buddy thing before and it just doesn't work for me. I don't want to be a part of something in which I have to hold myself back. That reeks of betraying my authenticity, and therefore myself.

Make no mistake - the path I've chosen isn't always easy. Sometimes all I want to do is grab the nearest phallic object and go for gold. (Just wait. My housemate will read this and then she'll hide all the wang-shaped items. *laugh*) Most of the time I'm bored and indifferent, but every so often I just... start to lose my mind a little and want to hump ALL THE THINGS. It really fucking sucks sometimes. There are some things I miss more than others. At the risk of sounding like a cheesy cliche, I miss snuggling. I especially miss kissing. It's such a splendid thing to do. On the bright side, I bet I get more of a thrill from the bus seat vibrations than you do. *smirk*

Shadow boxing.

I wonder if I'll ever stop being angry at my mother.

Twice today I've been triggered into a maelstrom of anger and pain by something posted on Facebook by a much-loved friend. The first was something said in jest at the shenanigans of me and a mutal friend being cheeky little trolls, and the second was a post wondering at the thoughts of those who smack their children towards those who don't. (The latter of which wasn't intended specifically for my attention; it was just something random that had caught her curiosity.) My response completely blind-sided me, to the point that I actually gasped at how swiftly and severely the emotional agony tore through me. [Note: I know damn well that my friend didn't set out to cause me hurt, and I hope that anyone reading this understands that my reaction is just that - my reaction. My issues. The cause of my response today happened 20 years before I even knew this friend existed, it has nothing to do with her.] Most of the time I would have barely flinched, but this week... there are big things going on in my mind and heart this week which are leaving me as vulnerable as I was during That Thing That Happened. Unexpectedly experiencing the phrase "I give up with you" that was the swansong of my youth while I'm a mere three days away from returning perilously close to where my journey began really threw me for a loop. I shrugged it off as an echo of my past, telling myself there's no need to feel berated or full of dread and that I'm just feeling exceptionally fragile due to the move; but I couldn't quite shake the feeling that the banshee ghost of my mother was hovering behind me ready to sink her bitch claws into my heart. With the question regarding the appropriateness of using physical discipline on children, there she was.

I'm exhausted. I'm sick of being haunted. Generally (and anyone who knows me would vouch for this) I do brilliantly well at forgetting That Thing That Happened and the ensuing 17 years of punishment for a crime that was not my own. No one would ever know that I came from an extremely disadvantaged background, that I was a ward of the state from the age of 6 until I was 17 because no one wanted me, that I have been through every single abuse you can think of. If statistics are to be believed, I should be a substance-abusing/addicted child-beating scumbag with questionable sexual morals. Instead, I am a [mostly] well-balanced, happy, love-filled explosion of excitement; an exercise in peace and optimism. My defiant nature has allowed me to become the same person I would have been if I'd had a "normal" upbringing. Actually, scratch that, it's allowed me to become more amazing than that. My experiences, despite (perhaps because of) their absolute wretchedness, have given me a perspective of the world that few people have. At 27, just as those around me are becoming jaded, everything is so new and vibrant to me. Most people who grow up without love, don't know how to love, they wouldn't have the slightest clue what it is. I, on the other hand, somehow stored up 26 years of it and am now unleashing it on the world. (May the Almighty Bruce help my next boyfriend... *laugh*)

Sometimes, though... sometimes there's a rumble and an ache that can't be ignored. Sometimes I need to grieve for what could have been: for that little boy who would be 23 now but instead lies in a grave with barely a marker as if he was never here at all, for the brother who is a week shy of his 25th birthday and is that stereotype, for the close-knit sibling relationship we might have had. Most of all, I need to allow myself occasionally to feel the malevolent nigh-hatred that reminders of my mother incites. There is a raw peace to be found among the malice. This woman, by the very act of giving birth, was party to an unspoken vow of protection and nurturing. A vow she took pleasure in actively breaking, to the point where as a direct result of her actions a life was taken. It wasn't just Daniel who died that day. Ben and all that he could have been died, too. Me, I didn't. I got to spend the next almost two decades paying for what she did. Daniel and Ben's father punished me. Our mother punished me. I punished myself. Then, spent, I died. I spun myself an armour-plated tomb, and I gave up.

I didn't even try to escape. It wasn't that I wanted to wallow in misery and self-pity. I was just exhausted. I needed to just... stop. Rest. I got bored, though. I knew there was more to life and I wanted it. Slowly, people started trickling into my life who had such peace and positivity about them that I couldn't help but notice. It was just one person at a time. It started with Isaac. I'll admit that at first I only noticed him because he's gorgeous (the long hair, oh my! *fans self*) and happened to be at the pub where I was deliberately falling into the habits of my maternal legacy. He showed me that there was another world outside alcoholic parenting. Then came Ben, Isaac's friend. Then came India (who wasn't called India at the time, but it feels weird to call her anything else now). Then came an entire community. The trickle became a flood. I have all the nurturing and compassion I could have ever dreamed of. I have all the love I ever imagined having, and then some. For the first time, I am being supported and encouraged, and pushed in challenging yet healthy ways. I didn't have to earn their acceptance, I didn't have to be chameleonic. Not only was my presence in their world welcomed, it was demanded. They wanted me there. I've never been wanted before, I've never really just fit in before. I've never felt at home. I've never had family before.

My life now blows my mind. It's almost hard to believe that it's about to get even more awesome. Funny, this entry started with me in tears, reeling because I was triggered and now I'm grinning like a lunatic. I guess sometimes even I need to look back and see how far I've come.

There's a line from a song by one of my favourite bands that goes "You are the wasted thoughts and the pain in the back of my mind." That's all my mother will ever be, and that is all the space in my world I'm willing to give her. Eventually, there won't even be that. The gap she left when she tore me apart is shrinking every day with barely a scar. Every single nasty thing she did to me and let happen to me, every shitty memory I have because of her, it's all being replaced by something beautiful. One masterpiece at a time.

My cup runneth over.

Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed with gratitude that I feel I might just explode if I don't unleash it on the world. As usual, some will be seemingly trivial, some will be huge, and some just might not make sense. In no particular order (I'm numbering them simply because I like lists and am slightly OCD about amounts *laugh*) I am thankful for:

1. All the beautiful people opening their hearts and lives (and even their homes!) to me and my daughter. A little extra gratitude goes to a certain dreadlocked man for his lack of hesitation in expressing his delight in the concept of sharing a home with us, considering that the offer was as much of a surprise to him as it was to us.

2. My beloved feline companion. (I wonder how he's going to feel about no longer being man of the house?) I love his obnoxious love-demanding headbutts to the face, the way he trill-meows in his sleep, and even the way he occasionally beats up my daughter.

3. The mild (ahahaha like I even do mild) crush I seem to be developing on someone I just met. Crushes are fun. I don't intend to act on these feelings/desires; I'm rather fond of my role as secret admirer.

4. The inspiration and encouragement to return to my roots as a Buddhist. (Zen Buddhist, eh? *wink*)

5. The diversity of skills among the people flooding into my world, and their enthusiasm for sharing/teaching said skills. I'm going to learn how to do ALL THE THINGS.

6. Silliness and shenanigans. Including but not limited to - Drunken shenanigans on the beach in which I pee in public for the first time ever, lose my shoes (thankfully they were just a pair of $10 thongs), fall off a bbq, and roll around in a taxi van. I'm all class.

7. My growing readiness to accept gifts and/or offers of assistance with grace and no self-loathing, and to love without hesitation.

8. The fortnightly opportunity to lose myself in the primal glory of drumming and fire, and the incredible heady energy that intoxicates and enthralls.

9. Crumpet and the Crumpettes.

10. My defiant nature. I don't shy away from daunting tasks (for long, anyway). I have a tendency to think "I can't do that" and I take great pleasure in proving myself (and the echo of the woman who served as an incubator for baby me) wrong. The latest challenge I've taken up? Learning to cook purely vegan dinners for 4-5 people, one of whom has issues eating legumes. WHAT?! NO LENTILS?! Shiiiiiit. *laugh* I can cook, and I love to do so, but I've never done 100% vegan for 100% of the time* and I've not cooked for more than three people since I was married. It's going to be so much fun!
* It's really just dinner five nights a week, but those five meals will be strictly vegan. No slipping into vegetarianism etc.

In summary, my life is swiftly shifting into the crazy and spectacular force of nature I always felt it is meant to be. Every time I think "Oh man, this is so great! I couldn't possibly be happier!" the universe seems to take that as a challenge and throws more bliss my way. I once said to a friend as encouragement during a tough time she was going through - "You've got to shovel some shit before you can grow roses", and you know what? I think I was right. I've shovelled more shit than you can possibly imagine, and now I'm blooming. *smile*

Happy new year.

It’s my birthday! I’m 27, which in my mind makes me a motherfucking rockstar. (No jokes about being a motherfucker; I’m a mother, and I masturbate. You do the math.) A good friend pointed out to me a few years back that celebrating New Year’s on January 1^st is quite silly, unless you were born on that day. “Your year”, he said, “starts on your birthday. So celebrate that, revolutionise your life on your birthday”. And it struck me – he was, is, absolutely right! So in honour of today being the first day of my new year, I thought it fitting that I come up with a list of revolutions. That’s not a typo. I don’t like resolutions, generally. They seem to be setting yourself up for failure. You know, things like “Quit smoking”. So, instead, I’ve composed a list of things that I think would be utterly fabulous amounts of fun to do! Things that are stimulating and boundary-smashing; things that will alter on some level every part of my being. I was aiming for 27 things to do in my 27th year. For a few weeks, I was berating myself for not being able to come up with that many but then I realized: Why should I? Why would I? How could I? So I have left some slots blank, because I will continue to evolve, and I will be inspired a thousand times over. And when these things strike, I will add more to the list.

Here you have it – My adventures for my new year!

1. Pose nude for an art class
2. Eat 26 foods I’ve never had before.
3. Go rock-climbing.
4. Post at least 26 times in my public blog.
5. Learn to play an instrument. This also includes re-learning how to read sheet music.
6. Read at least 12 books. Usually, this wouldn’t be a feat for me. It occurred to me recently that I can’t remember the last time I read anything that wasn’t on my laptop screen. Tsk tsk.
7. Go ice-skating.
8. Craft 6 gifts.
9. Learn a language.
10. Become able to touch my toes! (I do not have a raunchy motive for increasing my flexibility. Oh not at all.)
11. Get the tattoo on my foot covered with something far more fitting and fabulous.
12. Learn some variety of Latin dance. Or swing dancing! Fuck yeah poodle skirts!
13. Get my probationary license.
14. Go camping.
15. Master the use of chopsticks.
16. Take up kickboxing.
17. Take singing lessons. This one may just be the most confronting and terrifying thing on this list, despite the fact that I used to be quite the masterful vocalist.
18. Make every second month “Super Frugal Month”. Nothing new is to be purchased, unless necessity dictates. No takeaway, no “shortcuts” that end up destroying my budget, etc   
    
19.  
20.  
21.  
22.  
23.  
24.  
25.  
26.  
27.  

Oh what a tricky one.

This is here more for my reference than anything else, just wanted somewhere to put it that I could access from anywhere should I feel the urge.

 

Rising Sign is in 18 Degrees Capricorn

You are practical and reserved but very ambitious. An achiever and a hard worker, you respect success. Older looking and very serious as a youth, things lighten up and you relax more as you mature. You have a serious view of the world as being a difficult place to be in. Very envious of those who seem to have an easier life than you have, relaxation and play do not come easily. It is important that you had abundant parental support as a child so that you do not feel lonely and isolated as an adult. Generally, you have a good, earthy sense of humor that can carry you through when times really do get tough. You are purposeful, self-willed, industrious, realistic and responsible.

Sun is in 04 Degrees Libra.
Very sociable, you enjoy being with others and definitely prefer not be alone. Warm and affectionate, you go out of your way to make others like you. You despise ugliness, for you being surrounded by beauty and harmony is a necessity of life. You prefer fine clothing, an attractive home and pleasant surroundings wherever you are. Your refined tastes apply to music and to art as well. At times, you are very indecisive you waver and falter when forced to make a choice because you have the ability to see both sides of any question. The positive part of this is that you are very fair-minded and can be trusted to settle disputes. Your greatest challenge is to take any one- on-one encounter and make the most of it.

Moon is in 01 Degrees Scorpio.
Your feelings are very intense, never superficial. You tend to be either very angry or very sad or completely and totally happy. Your moods are deep, extreme and not always completely understood by yourself or by those with whom you have to deal. Emotionally, you tend to prefer to live at the cutting edge of life, pushing your reactions to the ultimate extremes, even if the results are dangerous or upsetting. You are easily jealous and very suspicious -- you require a great deal of emotional reassurance. A good detective, you are very curious about deep and mysterious things, especially human nature and motivations. Be careful not to be ruthless, tactless or too overly frank or you will meet with much resistance from others.

Mercury is in 23 Degrees Virgo.
Very thorough and efficient, you pay attention to the minor but important details of any project. You are a careful thinker who can learn complicated, intricate techniques. You are attracted to practical, useful skills and are probably good at working with your hands. You are very critical of yourself and others, sometimes too much so, and you get the reputation of being a nag or of being nit-picky. Your first reaction to any situation is to try to organize, classify and analyze everything!

Venus is in 01 Degrees Scorpio.
Your feelings about others are deep, powerful, intense and complex. When you like someone, you do so totally and obsessively if you do not like someone, they do not exist. Your faithfulness and loyalty to your lover is unquestioned, indeed at times it is too much so -- you get so possessive that you almost smother your partner. At times, your feelings are kept deep within you and, because they are so complex and intense, they frighten you -- this is the way that you try to ignore them. But the more you try to do this, the more explosive things get when you eventually do express them.

Mars is in 24 Degrees Sagittarius.
Your every action is motivated by high moral standards and ideals. You will work very hard to improve the lot of the world at large, but you demand action about it -- you do not like to just sit around and talk about doing it in an abstract manner. You like to be where the real action is. You resist mightily any attempts to limit your freedom and you will assist anyone who feels put down and restricted. You are extremely restless by nature -- physical exercise is very important to you if you would maintain your health.

Jupiter is in 04 Degrees Capricorn.
You tend to feel that the only results that are worthwhile are the results that are concrete and demonstrable. You distrust abstract solutions and appreciate measurable achievements. An excellent organizer and planner, you are optimistic as well as practical and realistic about what can and what cannot happen. Very responsible, you consider it a personal weakness to be wrong about anything. This makes you appropriately cautious. You are very efficient but you tend to be cool and detached.

Saturn is in 13 Degrees Scorpio.
You tend to release emotional energies only very reluctantly. This is partly due to your fear of what horrible calamity might occur should they be released -- your emotions are terribly complicated and intense. Try not to repress these energies entirely, however, or you will succumb to negative and destructive forms of compulsive behavior. Give yourself the freedom to look awkward or silly once in a while. The relief you feel will be quite therapeutic and the embarrassment (whether it is real or imagined) will pass quickly.

Uranus is in 10 Degrees Sagittarius.
You, and most of your peers, have the tendency to think that all ideas, customs and traditions from the past are outmoded and irrelevant. You are attracted to radically new ideas, philosophies and religions that will, hopefully, cause sweeping changes throughout the world.

Neptune is in 28 Degrees Sagittarius.
You, and your entire generation, are heavily involved in investigating and idealizing foreign and exotic intellectual systems and religious philosophies. The most extreme ideals will be pursued with gusto. You will be at the forefront of humanitarian attempts to improve the lot of those who are in need of assistance. You will be comfortable with the concept of the "global village."

Pluto is in 00 Degrees Scorpio.
For your entire generation, this is a period of intense research and discovery in areas that were heretofore considered mysterious, remote or taboo. The root causes for many complex occurrences will be unearthed due to the intensity and thoroughness of the search.

N. Node is in 28 Degrees Taurus.
It's not in your nature to seek out many casual acquaintances in your daily round of activities. You feel much more comfortable with a small, close-knit group of people -- those with whom you can relax and work toward known and clearly defined goals. Your loyalty to a person or group, once given, is forever -- you'll expend all of your quite considerable energy in seeing that the group stays together and prospers. You choose your partners and relationships so carefully that you're bound to gain certain advantages from them, including those of a material nature. Be careful though not to let mere self-service be your motivation in establishing your connections -- make sure that there's an even give-and-take! 

Bend, and stretch.

Over recent months, I’ve been feeling an increasingly strong urge to get fit; to stretch, flex and exercise body, spirit and mind. I used to be incredibly athletic; I had to be, to be in the saddle from 5am – 8pm (later in Summer). I used to hike, run, ride, skate. Then I just… stopped. I got depressed, then I got sick, so I stopped. In true Candice style, I’ve procrastinated. My body has forgotten how to move. Every movement feels robotic and stiff, there’s no flow. Not only that, I somehow became reluctant and fearful. This is incredibly unacceptable to me. With great self-awareness comes great responsibility. ;)

There are several reasons for my self-neglect. I could blame my past and the fact that I was so neglected for the first 20 years of my life that the mindset stuck. I could blame my mother for not teaching me how to take care of myself. I could blame the government whose Emergency Care Unit staff didn’t bother teaching me anything either (I was a ward of the state for a very long time). The fact is that it’s my fault. I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions and taking care of myself, and I chose not to do so. Part “I don’t deserve to feel good” mentality, and part laziness. Over the past 7 months, it’s also had a lot to do with wanting to avoid being in the kitchen in order to not have to be near the people who also live in this house. I took to buying things that were fast and easy, that would require minimal preparation and even less cleaning up, thus reducing my time spent inside. 

Watching my current housemate literally decompose without dying has not only disgusted me, but made me all the more determined to get my body and mind into the condition they should be. I don’t want to be in my 70s and be so fucking bitter and sour and malicious that even my own body turns toxic. She feeds herself on food that is quite obviously not fresh, and often sourced from the bins scattered around shopping centers. I’d seen her in action around Oakleigh and Chadstone before she moved in here, and more since. You can always tell when she’s opened her fridge as the house is filled with a pervasive stench of compost from all the vegetables she’s got turning black in there. Never mind the meat, or the milk...

I have inadvertently taken a couple of small steps towards improved health; I noticed that over the past couple of months, I was smoking cigarettes only on weekends, and even then only if I was drinking and was with other smokers. Otherwise, I just didn’t feel like it. I noticed yesterday while wandering around Chadstone that I was breathing quite deeply without having to think about doing so. My throat wasn’t closing up and my lungs weren’t hurting. Almost unheard of for me! (I developed bronchitis when I was 15, and took up smoking not long after. Bronchitis + asthma + extreme lack of fitness = huff and puff.) I didn’t deliberately quit smoking, and I don’t consider myself to be a non-smoker. The fact is, I do enjoy the occasional cigarette. I’m glad that I’ve become less and less of a slave to them, to the point that now it is not an addiction, but a sporadic guilty pleasure. I drink with less frequency, and generally a smaller amount than I used to. I’m drinking for different reasons now. I no longer get drunk out of boredom, or social pressures, or to escape the maelstrom that so often goes on in my head.

While I was already aware of what I put in my body, observing Rosemary’s eating/smoking/gambling habits has really slammed the message home: “Get your shit together, or end up like her.” I can’t keep putting my health (and in turn my daughter’s) last just because it’s unpleasant to be in the house. And here’s the thing – I very much enjoy food, especially when it’s fresh (and often raw). I simply adore getting up early, and being active. Yet I spent the past 7 months just not giving a shit. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I did care, and do, but it wasn’t enough for me to do anything about it. Then Rosemary moved in. Lord, what a vile creature. She’s angry at the world, and everyone owes her. Since she moved in, every single day that she’s home the house radiates negativity and death, sourness and irrational anger. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve no interest in denying her the hard-earned right to be a grumpy old coot, there is a big difference between that and the venom that spews forth every time she opens her mouth.  It's just that I don’t want to turn into that. 

My point here isn’t to shit-talk an old woman. My point is that it scares the shit out of me that I could possibly end up like that. I hereby refuse to allow that to happen. I want to be the tattooed old woman with fifty cats and the lines of a million giggles on my face, slamming back pints with friends on a sunny Friday afternoon. I want to be forever lithe and spritely, full of glee and unashamed wildness, no matter my chronological age.

 So here’s to moving more, thinking more, loving more, and laughing more.

June 21.

On water torture.

When I was five years old, some time in 1990, I had a few swimming lessons much like almost every other child in Australia. I don’t recall doing many. The only reason I know it was more than one is because I remember being utterly terrified of the pool after my first lesson; my step-father had snarled at me all sorts of horror stories about how little girls who cry will be grabbed by invisible water beasts and dragged to the bottom of the pool to drown, or if they’re lucky, eaten. This man (I use that term very loosely) and my mother (again, loosely) would even go so far as to use my childish fear against me, and tell me that spiders could both swim and run across water, and would get me if I didn’t swim well enough. My elder brother, A, decided to take part in the water terrorizing by forcing me to watch all the Jaws films. Watching them now, I find them laughable at best, but to a very inexperienced and naïve sensitive young girl, it was one of the scariest things I could imagine.

I remember being beaten after a lesson because my mother and her boyfriend didn’t like that my instructor noticed all my bruises. My mother would leave all discipline up to her partner; I still haven’t figured out why, but that’s a topic for another post. Paul was (still is) a very large man, a carpenter by trade in a time where most construction was still being done by hand as opposed to power tools. My brothers’ and my small frames were no match for his strength and irrational hatred. I was never allowed to go to lessons again after my swim teacher questioned me. I didn’t tell her what was happening; I wish I had. My mother knew enough about the immorality of what she was doing to try to hide it from everyone, but didn’t care enough to stop it. Any time someone noticed, we’d pack up and move along. At the time, and to be honest, for many years afterwards I believed that I wasn’t allowed to continue learning this skill because I was an awful child and I didn’t deserve to.

After my youngest brother was murdered shortly before my sixth birthday, his older brother (my younger half-brother) and I were sent to live with their father. And oh, how he resented me. In hindsight, I can understand why – I strongly resembled the woman who caused his baby boy’s death. He would torment me in as many ways as he could think of. Make no mistake, Michael wasn’t a bad man, he was just hurting in ways that few people could comprehend, and he didn’t realize that the way he reacted was just as damaging. Anyway, he had a house on Boundary Road in Dromana, meaning the beach  was easily accessible to us so we would spend almost every spare moment ocean-side. I had never been to the beach before this; my mother wasn’t fond of water, and so my only experience of being immersed in it prior was the few swimming lessons and the occasional bath. Sensing my trepidation, Michael would mock me and pull pranks on me. His personal favourite was to throw me off the end of the Dromana pier and then start screaming that there was a shark, or a toxic jellyfish, or the like. Every so often, just to mix it up, he would pretend to drown me. If I got upset about it, he would punish me severely for “not knowing how to take a joke”. The more he did this, the more reluctant I was to go anywhere near the water, which would only make him harass me more. After our visits to the beach, he would use a high-pressure hose to clean us off. This in itself was painful enough, but then there was my hair… I had ringlets all the way down to my backside, so obviously in chlorine or salt water it would get a little rough and tangled. Neither my mother nor my brothers’ father cared to take their time when brushing it after swimming. The pain was intolerable. It didn’t take long for me to become irrationally scared of all forms of water. I still can’t stand putting my face in water, be it from the shower or otherwise.

I was almost grateful when Michael sent myself and my youngest brother away to boarding school to escape the media that would camp at our school gates. It was in the middle of the forest near Wangaratta, no chance I’d have to go in the ocean there. There was a pool, but we were very rarely allowed to use it, which suited me just fine. I didn’t have to go near water again (except, obviously, for hygiene purposes) until I was 12. There was one trip with the staff and other children from the government home I lived in to Oasis in Dandenong, during which I got away with feigning sick to avoid swimming, and that was it until now. I’ve managed to avoid it with one excuse or another. The only legitimate reason I’ve had is fear. Fear of what lives in the ocean, fear of giving up control, fear of drowning, fear of possibly being quite good at swimming... and if I'm truly honest with myself, fear of feeling how I did back then, and of letting go of the twisted life raft that is my past. It's easier to hold on to the pain and terror than it is to stand up and walk into a new world.

I’m fucking done with letting fear rule me. 

I will defeat this from the beginning. I’m going to learn to swim.