Some of you seem as taken with the crab patterns as I was, so here’s a couple more pics for you.
I love the patterns. They also remind me of embroidery or fabric. And I was struck by how many of the patterns, images and designs we see in the man-made world have their roots in nature. Like the pattern on this shell I found on Cape Trib beach (in real life the shell is only about one centimetre across).
But back to the crabs… they are tiny. The smallest one I saw was barely a few millimetres across (including legs) and the largest was about two centimetres (I think that’s about an inch). Amazing. Even more amazing was looking along the beach and seeing the sand appear to move with all the crabs scurrying about.
In the middle of each pattern (or thereabouts) is a little hole. The crab digs the hole, and in so doing makes the “bumbles” that he brings to the surface and lays out in the beautiful pattern. I don’t know how he knows to do this, or why he does it. But he does (at low tide, at least). And the results are beautiful.
Hello again. It feels a little weird blogging again after a break, even if it was just a short one. There’s so much I want to write about, yet still not quite sure where to begin. I almost feel like I’ve lost the knack of writing, so I’ll start with the easy stuff, and share my holiday with you. The “fun” stuff can come later.
So… eight days in Port Douglas, Far North Queensland. It’s a lovely area. The weather was hot (and humid – bleuch) – just perfect for snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef, walking on the beach, eating ice cream and lazing by the pool.
I won’t bore you with a day-by-day account of my trip, but will share a couple of my favourite spots:
Cape Tribulation – where the Daintree Rainforest meets the Great Barrier Reef. A beautifully peaceful stretch of pristine white sand, surrounded by lush tropical rainforest. Absolutely magnificent.
Great Barrier Reef – stunning islands, crisp blue waters filled with beautiful corals and sea turtles and fishies. Beautiful beyond imagining. I even went snorkelling which, for me at least, is quite adventurous. I loved it! I didn’t so much love the storm that came up and rocked our lovely catamaran into 30 knot swells, but hey, what’s a bit of seasickness between strangers??
I also marvelled at these little crabs and the wonderful patterns they make in the sand. Ain’t mother nature amazing?
And the beautiful frangipani, which grows EVERYWHERE there.
There’s a few more pics on my Flickr site, including more flora and fauna (even the crocodile I saw on the Daintree River), and on Facebook for those who know me there.
A lot went on in my head while away, but I won’t spoil these beautiful images with that now. Stay tuned.
I’m back – from the holiday at least, if not fully back in the blogosphere yet. In some respects the holiday was lovely, but in others it wasn’t. I’ll explain more in the coming days, though I’m not really sure where to begin.
I will say it was lovely to hear all your messages of support while I was away, and to know that some of you missed me. I also missed you, and meant what I said about receiving those messages at just the right time.
There must be something in the universe because I needed those messages again earlier today, when I read this line in a recent post by the marvellously cynical Trench Warrior:
“Don’t you dare think no one cares. No one loves you. No one will notice. Because they do. And they will.”
I hope to catch up on everything soon. I hope you are all taking care out there.
I’m going on holiday. This time tomorrow I hope to be sitting on this beach relaxing (though I suspect I’ll be complaining about the heat). I’m taking my baby laptop with me, but am not sure if I’ll be able to blog, tweet, post in the forum etc. I need a break and just want sun, sand, surf and a drink with an umbrella in it. I figured this looks like a good location for those things.
In other news, many of you will know that Same Sky has been doing some really interesting work with her inner children. In a recent post comment, she said:
“A lot of trauma is held in the body, we have somatic memories and to work with them requires a shift in the way we do therapy. Talking doesn’t stimulate the neural pathways in the right way (it’s important to connect the cognitive, physical and emotional memories together).”
The stars must be aligned somewhere because I had my first session with my new Pilates instructor yesterday, who described herself as a “spiritual healer” (groan). We did some breathing work, and at one point she said (I quote):
“Geez, girl, what trauma have you suffered? Could you bring yourself back to a mild panic please?”
Sigh.
She told me about her own experiences with post traumatic stress. I burst into tears and she declared, “our spiritual guides meant us to meet today.” (Probably true, but my rational side groaned again.)
Between Same Sky’s comments and those of the instructor, I guess it’s time for me to start doing the body work that I need to do to heal. Who knows, may be this will help with the other Body Image issues as well. As I’m going on holiday tomorrow, I plan to use that time to absorb the energy of the sea for what appears to be the next part of my journey.
Take care everyone, I’ll see you soon.
Two things happened in my therapy session last night that keep playing over and over and over in my head.
- My therapist said she learns something from every client. I’m sure that’s true, but what on earth could she possibly learn from me???
- We talked more about the fact that summer is coming and all that means to me. In a moment of unguarded openness – and amidst snivelling, childlike sobbing – I said, “For once in my life, I want to look like a girl.” I can’t get this out of my head – nor the annoyingly doe-eyed nod of understanding from my therapist. Is this a good thing? A sign of progress in disguise? I don’t know.
Therapy is hard enough sometimes without having the session on endless repeat as well.
*Sigh*
The weather’s getting warmer here, and today we had a taste of the summer that is coming. I hate summer. It’s another reminder that I’m a freak. I can no longer get away with wearing a hessian bag. I was reminded of this fact when I heard the weather forecast this morning and looked despondently in my (new) wardrobe for some appropriate attire.
Alas, not much there. In part because I’ve gained weight, and in part because I’ve never really worn nice clothes. I’ve always been more comfortable in my hessian bag. My therapist says this is about not being noticed, and not being noticed as a “sexual being”.
Despite the fact that I still like the protection of my hessian bag, there’s a little part of me who’s sick of feeling like a slug and looking like a sack of potatoes.
Trouble is: I don’t really know what else to do. My mother always had a “that will do” attitude to her own appearance, and took a similar approach with mine. She never encouraged me to “dress up” or dress to look and feel good. I’m guessing because for most of my growing up years I was overweight, so when Dad wasn’t making nasty comments about how fat and ugly I was, my mother was saying, “you’ll have to wear that one then” – meaning the big and ugly one.
So I just don’t really know how to dress not to hide, let alone how to dress to feel and look good. I don’t know how to do skirts or dresses or high heels, let alone anything that’s comfortable in warm weather. I only really learned to do make up when I was about 25.
On my way to work I stared longingly at the clothing stores and the little summer dresses on display. Even if I had the courage to go into such a shop, I’d never try one on. Just the fear of it not fitting me would be enough to tip me over the edge.
So I stick with my hessian bag, and continue to feel like a slug and look like a sack of potatoes.
*Sigh*
Today is my Birthday Boxing Day. I had an unexpectedly nice day yesterday. Thanks to all of you who sent me messages – emails, cards, etc. Thank you, I guess, for ignoring my desire to go unnoticed for the day.
In the past I’ve always hated my birthday. It’s always been a time to fear. I’m not really sure why, perhaps it’s that birthdays are a time to reflect on life and how it seems to be passing. Also that it’s been a time to fear being noticed – and, even worse, not being noticed. As silly as this sounds, my birthday has always been a time to worry that those close to me would forget me; that all my fears of being a hideous and unlovable ghoul would be proven correct.
So, what made this year different? For one thing my mother seems to be really trying. In previous years she’d send me a text message for my birthday, or ring me the day before… this year, I got a card (with a picture that’s meaningful to both of us) and a phone call on the day. For all her faults, she really is trying.
But I think the real difference this year was something far more intangible – it’s something inside me that doesn’t mind being noticed anymore (by those I know and like and trust, at least); something that can appreciate the good wishes of friends without worrying that they really hate me and are just doing it out of ‘obligation’. Perhaps it’s a greater comfort in being me, and a lessening of the fear that others will find out who I really am and run for their lives.
I guess that’s another notch in the belt of therapeutic progress. 
I’m sick of the craziness in my head. I can’t live like this anymore. I’ve been an emotional mess for a couple of days, brought on by a few things happening this week:
- I’ve been getting new wardrobes installed (that’s closets for those of you north of the equator). I went with a company that has a great reputation for doing really good quality work. Unfortunately, my experience has been a debacle and I’ve somehow ended up with less space in the wardrobes than I had previously. Plus the company has seemingly done its best to muck me about all week. I’m so frustrated. I’m upset and I’m angry and I’m… I don’t really know what I am coz it’s all swirling together in my head.
- Work has been hell. It’s busy, with lots of things coming to a pointy end which means long hours and added stress. The boss hasn’t done anything particularly creep-worthy this week, although he has been very stressed. This manifests by him coming into my office at least a thousand times an hour asking me how things are going, have I done x, y or z or where is the document on a, b or c (which he only asked me for on the last visit to my office). Needless to say this has been grating on my nerves and my Teflon-coating has worn thinner every day.
- Because work has been chaos and home is a mess I’ve not eaten properly all week. A handful of nuts here, a few pieces of chocolate there, some cereal. After the run in I had with the fitting room mirror last weekend you’d think I’d know better.
- It’s the anniversary of my birth tomorrow. Before you all rush to wish me a joyous occasion – I hate my birthday. I’m not even really sure why. I just do. I’m sure my therapist will say that’s got something to do with all this. I only have one wish for my birthday: to get through the day unscathed and without tears. (Or is that two wishes?)
- I walked into a book shop this morning, hoping that it might calm me a little. It often does. Alas, not this time as the first thing I saw was a big display full of Xmas cards and calendars for 2010. Guess that time of year is coming all too fast again. *Sigh*
I finally fell over last night under the stress. After about ½ hour sleep I woke up with an ice pick headache and a bundle of emotions that I didn’t understand or know what to do with. I’m upset and I’m angry and… again I’m not sure what I am. If I’m angry then I get upset for being angry… and if I’m upset then I get angry with myself for getting upset.
I didn’t make it to work today, so the inner critic is now in overdrive telling me how pathetic and useless I am – yea, like that’s gonna help. She’s berating me for thinking I could have something nice like new wardrobes, coz really, what was I thinking? Berating me for being so pathetic that I’d get upset about something as silly as wardrobes. And berating me for not going to work and falling in a heap when things get stressful.
My therapist says lack of sleep won’t help the tears or the craziness in my head. She’s right. Again.
Note to self: Lack of sleep is like heroin to the inner critic.
Lots of you have commented about some of the things my boss has said (see here, here and here) and suggested that I should document it all for a potential sexual harassment suit.
I’m intrigued by this. I mean, I don’t really get it. Thing is, and may be it’s just me, but I soooo don’t see his comments that way. Ok, yea, they are a bit creepy sometimes, but I think he just does it to be funny. Like the time he said, “I thought about you last night – when I was nude”. Surely he was just trying to be funny?
I’ve also played this little game with him. Like the time he said, “I thought about you last night” to which I retorted – “were you nude?” That stumped him, for once.
So surely the comments are all just part of this elaborate game we play? Or used to play? I haven’t really been playing lately.
And then I hear my therapist’s voice in my head telling me how I defend him whenever she criticises him. Really? I hadn’t really noticed that. Nor do I really understand why I do it.
May be it’s all my lack of understanding of boundaries? Aren’t they, as Castorgirl says, just those squiggly lines in the sand that you don’t even notice when you trample on them?
Isn’t this all just my fault for inviting such comments in the first place? And if this is the case, how could I possibly do something as serious as a sexual harassment suit?
I’m guessing that putting on weight is triggering for me or something. I went shopping today and the sight of myself in the fitting room mirrors made me feel sick. I was truly repulsed. I felt I didn’t deserve anything, let alone anything good or nice. I certainly didn’t deserve to look good.
I guess this comes from my parents (and particularly my father) who spent many years laughing at me or mocking me or telling me off for how much I weighed. He’s even done that to me as an adult. I remember a few years ago not having seen him for a few weeks. His first comment to me wasn’t ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’ or any other greeting; it was, “you’ve put on weight”.
Those comments, and the sight of myself in the mirrors, make me want to crawl into a dark hole for a very long time. This is the inner critic’s utopia.
In other news I was offered – or sort of offered – another job yesterday through a former colleague. It sounds good – really good. If I were willing to go “freelance” I could start tomorrow (a salaried position may take a little longer). “Freelance” would be great as I could pick and choose my work, work more flexibly, work on the good projects (or the money spinners) and leave the rest.
Trouble is I have never been a risk taker so think I’m probably destined to indentured servitude for a while longer yet.
