A heading inspired by my older brother, Danyel, stories of the stupid.
Definition
Wet Paper Bag, the definition only needs to say Danyel and everyone will understand. Yep, Danyel with a Y, even autocorrect at the start was like no, it isn’t, there is no Y in Daniel. It has gotten used to it now but it took a while. It is still shaking its head, two weeks later.
Danyel with a Y, just one of the pathetic things this wet paper bag bitches and moans about non-stop like anyone gives a shit. Wastes so much time complaining about it when he could just legally change the spelling. The idea never came across this idiots head, in fact, his solution for everything, blame everyone and thing else and never ever take responsibility or do something for yourself. He is a piss poor excuse for a man.
The easiest way to define something is to put it in a sentence, I’ll try it;
Danyel spent his whole life working his arse off to convince everyone he is the version of a man’s man that a man should be, but everybody knows he’s nothing but a wet paper bag.
Wet paper bag, it literally translates to someone being extraordinarily weak.
Synonyms include nancy, sissy, big girls blouse, coward, sook, bitch, glass jawed (I’m a bit glass jawed myself), weak as piss, a woos, pansy.
DANYEL
No Shit
Danyel is such a wet paper bag that he would not even change his sons shitty nappies. No shit, not one, not ever, for either of them. Then, somehow thinks anyone in the room empathises him when he tells them he couldn’t stand the smell, does not realise they are whispering to themselves, wet paper bag, dead beat Dad.
Who’s the Bushpig now?
Danyel is such a pathetic man that he will scream terrible terrible things at the next door neighbours with his mates, things like calling them bushpigs. 10, 20, 30 years later, still ongoing, he doesn’t realise that terrible noise that comes out of this mouth when he cracks the shits 15 times a day, at nothing, before he runs away to the shed is identical to one. Who’s the bushpig now buddy?
Own Wing Man
Danyel is such an awful brother, and husband, that he would spend the whole night tuning a women at the pub, only pulling out at the last moment because his younger brother said he would not lie for him. The younger brother who fucked her sister, found out in the hotel room they weren’t actually sisters, friends instead, close friends! Danyel would then bang on about Frederick being his own wing man for years and years later, well after the episode was finished and forgotten. Guilt, it’s what keeps the repetition. Oh, his brother would not lie because even then knew this man was a moron, his wife was a million times better person, was and continues to be better off without him.
Trying so hard
The last time Danyel and I talked he tells me how worried he was, he tried to contact me without response, laid awake sleepless multiple nights concerned about me. Yet, didn’t send me a single email, tried so hard.
Boardgames
Danyel will deny his children the opportunity to grow up with their cousins, Aunties and Uncles. Won’t attend family gatherings anymore. The last one Danyel and the family attended everybody was enjoying themselves, hanging out together, playing board games, doing family stuff together. Everyone together, well except Danyel who is too manly for these things. While we all had a good time he sat by himself at the kitchen and complained, complained so much that even though everyone else had a great time together never again would the whole family gather again, all because Danyel didn’t only get Danyels way.
RACHEL
Sell-out
My sister Rachel, her life is nothing but a sell-out, means nothing, not a moment means anything. No value in it at all. She used to look like my mother, beauitiful, now she is the opposite, much more similar features to my greedy Aunty (who, herself when I was very young was my version of beauty). Rachel has a daughter that looks just like Mum, the most beautiful girl I have ever known. Her sister, equally beautiful, in different ways.
Rachel’s life dream was a marine biologist, to discover the sea, she completed the degree at University, even discovered a new nudibranch species. Then, she gave her dream to the public service, the most ignorant department, Climate Change. Now she spends her life in an office, contributing in all the worst ways to climate destruction, both in and out of her career. Killing the sea, killing her nudibranch with every key tap, new car, update at home, betterer this and that, all the rest.
Oh, I forgot to mention, she does it all for attention, to fit in. She isn’t the only one reader.
FREDERICK
Lying to suit
Frederick is the type of wet paper bag that would have his first sexual experience with a male, orgasm in her mouth, feel guilty and then lie about bashing her to maintain his manlyhood and straightness. Bashing her badly (no actual bashing took place). Years later, he would attempt to undo the lie to his little brother when it suited him to do so. Wet paper bag.
Afrikaans
Frederick is at the Strawberry Hills Hotel in Sydney with some mates. The place is packed, $5 schnitzel and scooner night. Actually ends up working out at $250 one schnitzel, many scooners, shots and dirty kebab from next to Scruffy Murphys at 2am in the morning night.
Fred starts talking to another bloke, he is from South Africa too. He is from South Africa, Fred is not, only his Dad.
Frederick doesn’t know old mate is from South Africa until they talk about their backgrounds a little. Frederick goes first. Old mate replies if he knows how to speak Afrikaans, Freddy A bit. He did not, not a word.
Old mate did however, very much did, first language, equally fluent as English. Yep, he let Freddy know all about it. Fred didn’t understand a word but he knows real Afrikaans mate was proving a point, proved that point for five minutes.
Yep, our buddy here was left very embarrassed.
BENJAMIN
The worst Dad
Benajmin, my beautiful little brother, will tell me every time I am doing something wrong to my car, every thing that needs fixing and I’ll go yep, thanks mate, you know what you’re talking about, you’re a mechanic. But when I tell him he is abusing his daughters, and give him examples based on my expertise in the field he’ll tell me he doesn’t support saving lives and prefers I am dead because I don’t know what I am talking about.
His mates do though, know what they are talking about, tell him he is a good Dad. His mates, also mechanics, clothing makers and stay-at-home Mums. But mate, these people are terrible parents too, they love having you around because of it, you are the worst of the worst. You are our Dad, the ultimate wet paper bag.
La Familia
Anybody speak Spanish? Beautiful language. I say beautiful because it is easy to learn in comparison to, say, German which is, ha, not. Personal experience in both idiomas, languages.
The Spanish world will feature heavily here, one of the countries which speak it is home to me.
I started to create a new family during my excursion to the Americas, new friends, bring into my world the environment I want it to be.
The newness came with removing the oldness. As we continue now we talk about family, my parents will feature little, brothers and sisters will feature heavily.
My old family includes the beautiful people above, I have started with very strong statements. We open these statements up now, get to understand that these people are ridiculously beautiful people, even my older brother who I would not ever, as he is, choose to have any relationship with were we to meet outside of the circumstances we did.
I have said much worse to Danyel than the above, we’ll get to that. My little brother on the other hand, nothing that has come from me directed towards Benj has been more hurtful, direct and true than this. Nothing. We need bugger all further examples of Benjamin and his shitness. There are bugger all further examples, he is the most phenomenally beautiful of men.
The family includes all my old mates, including Willie. Willie is an old mate, not a now mate. Will is Lorraine’s nephew, we met in year seven and from that moment on have been a beautiful presence in one another’s lives. Currently he is a client, not my friend no matter how much I love him or he thinks he is, together we explore the meaning behind my statement.
We include my new family, my new mates, the ones I have chosen, mostly in Central and South America, and Mark (Mark will feature heavily). Together, again, we work to understand how knowing choice can improve our world infinitely. Removing the attachment to family is everything. They still are everything too, love all these people from the being of my being’s being.
There are seven names I will likely mention. These people are not adults. They are family both before and now, nothing will change until they come back into my life as adults themselves. Just like my family above, they add no value to my world (cannot have an open and free conversation with me) and our relationship may have some pauses.
The seven names are my six nieces and nephews. The seventh the child I contributed to 50% of his DNA, maybe. Maybe, not the contribute part, that’s a definite, the maybe talk about him, the relationship with the mother is more important in the sexuality space, may not be involved here. The seven names are fictional, the only fictional names in this thing, I will continue to protect these lights of my life.
When it comes to my siblings, two men and one woman, I am highlighting the beautiful people they are, what gets in the way, and how domestic violence can affect four children under the one roof in very different ways. All the four very different ways are exactly the same too, I really want to help you understand this, it is the key to the domestic violence crisis.
Let’s talk about Danyel (a little differently)
Okay, I’m going to say it, get it out of the way, Danyel is a moron. The absolute number one, light years in between number two, moron in my life. Were he not my brother I would have fogotten his name and never thought about him again the moment we met.
He, also, is a beautiful man. I talked about Rachel and I being the biggest contributors to Mum’s life in the last year or so, absolutely were, cannot be argued. Danyel, however, lived three kilometres from Moni for the four years between our home in Alvie being repossessed and when she died. She was very sick throughout.
Danyel was there through Mum’s entire last four years of illness and treatment, not in her pocket but there, next door basically, making sure that one of us was always available should Monika need help, a lift to town, assistance in paying the bills.
Most importantly Dan and Tammy ensured Moni always had family, company, loved ones close by, she wasn’t alone and isolated.
Mum never asked for help, financially horrible position and would not ask for help with the bills, anything, stubborn woman, haha. A few of us, maybe us all, would just steal the bills, occasionally a fine, and pay them for her. She hated it but also beamed with sunlight with the pressure taken off a little.
When the house was repossessed Mum was going through treatment. Danyel in Uni at the time. Big house with a normal amount of stuff, big stuff, no built-in wardrobes or anything fancy. Three bedroom house, one bedroom with a big old hole in the wall, come back to this. There was a fourth, up in the attic, attic? A hole that entered the roof to be more accurate, had an old bed frame, it was as creepy as hell. None of us wanted to go up there. Once, twice, in 13/14 years I entered alone.
Then there was Freds Shed, had a sign and all Freds Shed. Huge shed full of hoarded crap and mess. Benjamin and Danyel were the primary, maybe only two people who had to get this sorted and Mum comfortably set up at our Grandparents old home near Ballarat. I was not there, Freds shitty commission unit was hard enough and neither Benjamin or I had any memories in the space. Our home in Alvie was all memory, it was our home, it still is, it was taken from under our feet. Terribly hard.
Terribly hard but I was not there, I was in Sydney, well away from the heartbreak these three must have gone through together.
Danyel will let himself show when it is absolutely required. It is hard for him, he feels things so strongly that he cannot be with them, feels the hurt and injustice of what happened to his family. A happening he blames himself for in big parts.
Dan almost cries, he never cries, when he tells me about the first time he saw an adult strike a child, it happened to his three-year-old sister. Fred the striker or course. He used words I repeat over and over, I could not understand.
Danyel could not have done a thing until he was a mature adult to stop Fred, nothing. He was physically developed young enough, bald at six (nothing to do with strength, but it’s true and funny, not six, maybe 11, ha!), and was a smart guy. Is a smart guy.
Danyel could not hide his guilt or hurt when one of us was hurting because of Fred, his mouth and nose together do not tell lies. Just the words that come out of them sometimes.
Fred was a scary man, made more scary through the lack of information available on the year (more) he was out of our lives due to having a holiday in prison. We don’t know what happened, we think he beat the shit out of someone but do not know for sure. The rumour was very plausible, the evidence within the home showed it was not farfetched.
A couple of years later Benjamin would be in a horrific car crash, one-car accident. Benjamin driving on the Hume Highway, his mate in the passenger seat, hit a puddle and the car spun out. He was not being an idiot, poor conditions and just unlucky. Benjamin walked away fine, his mate was lucky to survive.
Benj was 30 minutes from Melbourne, returning to Ballarat from Albury (wherever the army trains Diesel mechanics) when it occured. He tried to call Danyel, I don’t know if he got through or not, he was okay, very rattled but okay. Danyel couldn’t make it up to be with him.
Fred called Danyel’s home either later that day or the next, Mum was there. He called Danyel all sorts of things to make him feel guilty for not being there to support his brother, make him think the accident was his fault.
Fred was a master-manipulator, he was charming too, a hazardous mix. Most abusers are very good at manipulation, we’ll open this up much more.
Danyel, thank God, was better than this. From what I recall of the conversation that followed, recounted to me by my mother with a huge smile on her face with every word, Fred did not get the reaction he was hoping for. Mum was very clear, and so was Danyel, about the part where Danyel made sure Fred knew that he ever come near us again his life may be forfeit.
He did not threaten to kill him, it is the easiest way for me to explain the description for the beating that was promised to my Dad in their chat.
Danyel does not recall this story and conversation with a smile, it hurt him, he took it personally. The blaming was designed specifically by my Dad to meet the objective of making my beautiful brother’s heart break, to feel responsible. Abusers and manipulators primary tool is your weakness, they will identify it almost immediately, the first time you sit down for a coffee together. They will destroy your life with them, hold you stuck and thinking there is no way out with my life.
Danyel is a wet paper bag, a weak man yes, but he is cardboard, 2-ply wood, compared to Fred. I am absolutely, ABSOLUTELY, grateful Danyel never was given the opportunity. I am afraid of what he would have done, what it would have meant for the future of him and his boys.
Yes, I am saying he would have won the fight. But, I am also asking you, would there really have been any winners?
He is a wet paper bag, but nothing to the Fred degree.
Uncle, Awesome Day
Before I go to sleep I reflect on my day, naturally now. Five minutes generally of allowing my thoughts to infiltrate my head, I go through everything. Particularly my journal, which is that process happening in another way.
The journal, what you are reading, is me teaching myself to interact safely in this world. To be able to participate in a world that breaks my heart with every human interaction. I am venting here, all the things I have learnt that get in the way of a conversation between you and me I am venting so that I do not hold onto it and burst.
I do burst, regularly enough, absolutely burst. When I burst I am ready for it, I know it is coming as I pay attention to myself, all the signs. To blow it off properly I isolate myself completely from the world, go out into the wilderness and scream and bawl my eyes out. I do it for days, at the end I generally have a good hit of DMT, amplify my pain to ridiculous degrees, recover in the world on the comedown, a few months worth.
It is hard to be me.
I cannot talk to you like I do on this site in a conversation, your ego is not ready for it. The best I can do if I value your company is be patient, say these same things to you in many series of conversations after I have learnt how you feel most comfortable within the conversation space.
But, I need to get my pain and the bits and pieces I hold onto out, and I do, this online way and the wilderness way.
My hurt does not limit itself to what I see now. At night I reflect, the morning I read parts of my journal, I am teaching myself here too, as I have said. When I read it something will come into the equation that was not there yesterday, I have no idea how the story will start, be relative to our purposes or end, I am just given a heading. I finish my morning reflection, write the heading into the relevant topic and the unfolding begins.
Uncle, Awesome Day brings a beautiful warmth to my being, a horrible heartbreak at the same time. Note the comma in Uncle, Awesome Day.
I never bought presents for my nieces and nephews, not for anything. Would buy practical stuff as presents before they could talk, these items were more for the parents though. When the kids were able to participate in a conversation we came to the agreement that no presents would exchange hands for any of the special gift exchanging days of they year. Instead, one day annually when we were all together we would have Uncle, Awesome Day.
Uncle, Awesome Day translates to having an awesome day with my Uncle, all of us and our Uncle. Just us and him, nobody else. The parents all loved it too of course and didn’t give a shit what we did. They knew, beyond everything and anything, their kids were with their Uncle Frederick, they love him to pieces, he loves them to pieces, they were going to have a bloody good time, be safe, come home exhausted and not have a single complaint.
We didn’t talk about the upcoming UAD until it was the morning of UAD except for standard child excitement, moreso, I was the excitement too, Christmas barely compared. Together we would find a quiet space together, all six of us, four once Danyel stopped attending, broke my heart, still does. I’d do it with the boys too but on a different occasion.
Anyway, we’d find a quiet spot and talk about the potential activities for the day. There were no limits to the kids imaginations. I did not have a say, the rule placed on me by me. The only rule is no collaboration beforehand, no discussing the thing you want to do in the case you can team up at our meeting, get the odds in your favour. Nope, this was a fair process and fair process only. I did not have to set boundaries on their ideas, they were kids, they wanted to do kid stuff. The pub, concerts, strippers were never any of their requests believe it or not.
After the ideas were on the table we would talk about the best ones, or alternatively if we could do them all without being in the car for more than two hours for the whole day we wouod fit them in. Never worked getting all the activities in. Best ones, when one child expressed their idea and I would gauge the wow factor, the gasps, the excitement of the others.
The last year our first activity was Crocodillus Park or whatever it is called in the centre of Darwin. Crocodiles, fish, turtles and heaps of great stuff. The four girls were mouth open awe, espescially when they laid eyes on Brutus, think that’s his name, the eight or nine metre crocodile that was still living, the same one from the Crocodile Dundee movie.
Then it hit 11am and the reptile show started. A beautiful demonstartion on five or six different reptiles the hosts brought out, the last part the kids were allowed to hold and pet them. We waited patiently, the girls were almost weeing their pants excited. Lots of little kids before us, they wanted to be able to enjoy themselves, take their time, enjoy the experience.
We were the last ones that got to hold them, the girls faces were beaming with Sunshine, they were so careful and beautiful. The park people let them share the different animals around, eventually each girl was left holding their favourite one. A couple of snakes, a bluetongue lizard and something else, maybe a turtle. Five minutes later the ranger smiles at me and says, buddy it is time. The girls didn’t hesitate, beautiful thank you, placed the creatures back in their cages and we sat down to our next meeting allbeit a little later than expected.
Meeting two, what do we have for lunch.
Lunch was the toughest of the discussions, it was pure majority vote but it also coincided with favourite activity number two. If we were lucky we could find a food court on the way but often it wasn’t the case. One, or two, girls would have to make a compromise. Today’s lunch was fish and chips, with the exception of Benjamin’s eldest, Amber.
We decided to order the fish and chips at the park, it was much easier, this would ensure the TimeZone activity would not be delayed too, everyone agreed except Amber. Amber started crying and complaining that she never gets what she wants, I let her whinge for a bit before stepping in.
We had a conversation on UAD and what it means for us, why we do it the way we do. She hadn’t realised before this that I never give an idea to the activities or contribute to the lunch decision, the kids run it all, I am simply the tool that allows it to be as great of a day as it is. Amber was able to come to understand that they have the power here, but none of them have more power than the other, we are all equal today regardless of our age, I taught her the true meaning of democracy. She understood, conversation was about 10 minutes, great conversation, she stopped crying, massive smile came over her face and she stuffed down her fish and chips quicker than everybody else.
Uncle, Awesome Day, great day.
The Most Beautiful Things
Timezone coincided with two food court options. The first, a 10 minute return walk for me, plus the time it takes for lunch. With four girls, in a new city, new shops, people, long grassers, buskers, a whole new world, the trip isn’t so quick. We haven’t even arrived at the food court options and infinite time it takes to choose. I do not pressure on these beautiful little people, can take as long as they want to both pick and eat.
The second court at Timezone itself basically, no time added excepted for the additional options. My nieces are accutely aware that they don’t choose one machine and press buttons, moving bodies and these crazy tiny things come together. Eating juse before the machines was not the best option either.
TimeZone was a blast, we had a basic rule to make sure everybody was involved, take it turns to choose the game and we all play before moving on. I was included in the rotation, Dance Nation good buddies.
Yeah, cool, if you want to do your own thing you have your card, go nuts. They didn’t want to do it alone, everyone together, we are a family.
The most beautiful thing happened towards the end of TimeZone, the end of UAD, 15 minutes before hometime, our last game together.
We decided to use our last credit on the machine with a hand that collects lollies. Three of the girls settled themselves around the machine ready to go, I’m not partaking, only four spots. Amber mentions that her chute is already full of lollies.
First reaction from a bunch of kids, as you can imagine, is pure excitement. Amber, super duper excited too, but then she says ‘I’m not sure I want to take them, I didn’t win them.’ What followed was the most beautiful three-minute discussion. The final comment came from one of my Sister’s daughters, Ainslie, ‘yeah, it is better we leave them, we have enough.’
God it was beautiful, the conversation involved looking around the room, look at our relationship in the process. Only one or two other adults were interacting, the rest sitting back on their phones, the three of us involved were completely involved. The children were wearing hand-me-downs, many didn’t smell like they had been bathed in some time. Ainslie’s comment wasn’t simply we have had a great day, it was too, she knew that the find, as all the girls did, meant so much more to others.
I let them take a couple extra at the end. Left a majority behind.
These are the beautiful moments I deal with in my heartbreak, the beautiful people. Beautiful traits that they learned from other beautiful people, their parents, my brothers and sisters. All beautiful people who are not in my llfe any more, I don’t hate them obviously, quite the opposite, it is why not having a relationship hurts so much. These people are all great parents, they spend quality time with their kids at all times more or less, they give them their full attention. Mostly.
Uncle, Awesome Day was the most beautiful opportunity for me to engage with my nieces and nephews, teach them a few things in the process. Learn infintely more myself.
Thank you good buddies, I love you from the being of my being.
Uncle Frederick.
The Best Teacher
There is one person I have not introduced as yet, all children’s names have been mentioned somewhere except for the two nephews, we’ll come back to them.
I call Katrina after the pinnacle of beauty, I have mentioned her elsewhere. Clearly, there is a line I have written there that does not apply here.
Safety is the foundation to removing domestic violence. Abusing power and safety do not go together. Any relationship between an adult and a child the power is immediately significantly with the grown-up. Of course, we will talk about this more but for now I do not want it getting in the way of what I have to say about Katrina.
Katrina is the youngest of them all, and it is the reason behind introducing her by herself. While her sister was at school or the other kids were doing things she wasn’t developed enough to participate in her and I would go off and do our own thing together.
Good buddies, Katrina is not my favourite, I do not have a favourite. Isaac is my equal favourite with you all. You are all equally beautiful too, each beauty is unique, I’m helping us all to understand how amazing unique is. I get to explain this story through what I have learnt from you, my greatest teachers.
Katrina and I would take a drive to a park on the other side of Brisbane, eat yum cha, walk, point at animals, sit on benches, lick ice-creams, lie down on blankets. Just the two of us. Katrina is so young at this point that none of her fears have started to influence her life, it is absolute beauty in every moment watching and interacting with her.
At Yum Cha, she would eat incredibly slowly, she did so at home, it is not okay. With me it was okay, absolutely, she’d take her time mainly leaning into me, having her body up against mine. Katrina would put her ear to my heart and listen, her eyes would close without there being sleep involved. The calmness and consistency in this adult next to her was everything she needed in the world.
A version of the above was every moment together. Katrina doesn’t speak too much in comparison to the others. She loves silence, watching and listening to things. The talking comes with the interest and curiosity in everything, she started every conversation and it was all interesting stuff to explore together.
Why do the bees sting? Why is the green grass? Why is that bird doing that strange thing to the other bird? Why is that woman and child sitting with a bucket next to them?
We talked about these things properly together, really opened them up. I had to speak to absolute simple basics, when I couldn’t I realised the most significant thing. I actually have no idea what I am talking about here, I am telling Katrina an answer which could be completely wrong. Often, it was.
We started to research things together, basic phone searches when we got stuck, and what we found was amazing. Everything had a simple answer, I did not need to go beyond the simple with Katrina, the simple was the only answer. Try to make it complicated beyond what was needed to understand and we both became confused.
But why Uncle Frederick? But why? Why? Every time it became less simple than it needed to be.
First, however, I personally had to understand the simple, I have learnt everything I have because of it. Hence, I am sharing it simply.
The most important detail I learned was to say I don’t know when I didn’t know the answer. Katrina was absolutely okay with it, didn’t tease me for not knowing, pressure me to ask why I didn’t know. I didn’t know, it was the most simple answer there was, she said cool and went onto the next topic.
I continue to say I don’t know a lot, whether you tease me for it or not, that’s about you, not me. Katrina taught me this in the most beautiful kind way possible on earth simply by accepting my I don’t know and moving straight on. It’s how I approach your I don’t know.
Katrina taught me the greatest lesson of my life, none compare, absolutely none.
I do not have a favourite relative but I have a favourite teacher and you will not find her doing what I am doing or saturating YouTube, Katrina, clearly.
Your best teacher’s people are those right in front of your eyes, all you need to do is pay a little more attention to your world to recognise them.
Mark
I do not want to talk about my sister, not yet.
Were I to remain holding onto unresolved issues towards the immediate family they are focused towards Rachel. Anger, in the form of disappointment, both the same thing, both different types of confusion. I will not talk about her the way I want to until I have resolved the emotions in myself completely. Currently my feelings towards our last interaction are getting in the way.
Bumjamin was sitting next to Rachel during that interaction, an interaction she did not say a word, only a single sentence that would have fixed everything when she knew I was right. Rachel knew I was right because we had the exact same conversation about the exact same behaviours over and over.
She said nothing, knowing I had nothing, knowing my next steps were taking me to a cliff. They did. She left me as a token of her love a $100 Coles Food Voucher, doesn’t even let you buy durries.
Bumjamin, a purely affectionate nickname for Benjamin given by me after he started repeating the purely affectionate name I was given by Danyel, Fuckheadrick.
It stuck, it really really stuck.
Danyel is six years older than me, we never hard much of a relationship as kids, Danyel despised me, his words. I loved him, he was super easy to get bent out of shape. Took no effort at all. He would try and work me up in all ways, sometimes getting to me, but he almost never did, the most boring predictable rubbish everyone said came out of his mouth. I only had to say one of those idiotic meaningless things in return.
I almost never did, I made my own shit up, applied it to Danyel and had him steaming fire in moments. Danyel has no reposnse to anything original, absolute guaranteed way to get him to lose his shit, squeal like a bushpig and run out and hide in the shed. Or his bedrrom in this case. Danyel does not have a single original thought, or the capabilities at one, the only thought he knows is I must be a man, be seen as a man, nothing but a man. Especially, above all, definitely not project anything a poofta might project.
Danyel is not the wise older brother that left before you were born but you miss him every time he is away because he is just the most gentle, kind, loving, beautiful presence to be around. He is not the ultimate teddy bear that even though he doesn’t like to be touched, his words and the gentleness behind them are more soft and cuddly than any plush toy the world has ever known.
Nope, he is not. Mark is, Mark definitely is.
Mark is 65, thereabouts, I once said I would be proud to call him my Dad. But, nope, Mark and my relationship isn’t really a father and son. More, two people who absolutely love each other and are both an extremely good and bad influence on one another at the same time. Nobody minds though because every moment is beautiful to watch and they never get in trouble or hurt anybody.
Mark, I got this big bowl of mushrooms, not sure how much is there, maybe 10 grams, want to trip balls with me?
‘Bloody oath Fred.’
How much should we take?
‘Why waste it? Chuck her all in the tea matey.’
And so we did, more than once. Woke up one morning, had planned to do something but the weather was shit and the plans changed.
Well, there goes that. What are we going to do today instead?
‘Got any more of those mushrooms?’
Yep.
Nothing else needed to be said.
This is Mark and my relationship. It is ridiculously beautiful, the older brother I choose.
Mark, like Lorraine who I also introduce in more detail soon, has a specific belief towards a topic that he cannot be moved on. I do not bother, giggle as he gaggles, wait for it to end and move on.
Weetbix!
I love weetbix, they are my number one snack, they are one of the best, if not the best breakfast cereal on Australian supermarket shelves, second to rolled oats (rolled oats, not quick, rolled). Weetbix are great for growing and grown bodies.
Weetbix can be combined with sugar, jam, honey, fruit, dried fruit, nuts and all different combinations of things. The weetbix themselves are great, weetbix need milk to be great, the milk is ridiculously great for growing bodies. Remembering of course calcium is included in it.
The day I met Mark I had three things left on top of the $2.30 or so that was either in my pockets or bank account.
Weetbix, jam and water. That was it. My diet was weetbix, jam and water. I also had about half a bottle of mouthwash. The last of my consumable items, no cigarettes or cannabis.
Oh, and mushrooms, but having a good meal of these on an empty stomach is not what I needed this day.
The mouthwash was the most important. I had an open root canal at the time, for the two months prior to now when I could not concentrate through the pain in my mouth I would swig mouth wash, exacerbate the pain 10 fold, knowing the next two hours would be better. It was a two hourly cycle, waking up at night regularly to repeat it.
The other method I used was to intentionally eat the weetbix with jam and water on the left side of my mouth where the pain was coming from. Creating a pain that was pure sickness, three hours relief I would get once the pain pinnacle calmed down.
Clearly, this is a shit way to live.
I was in the Orford area sleeping in the bush in the Hennessey Hammock, a fire was going as close to me as I was willing to put it without fearing catching on fire, it was cold.
As I have said, advertising is not my thing, but if I am going to recommend something I am going to recommend only it. There are so many knockoffs of the Hennessey, they are shit. Shit in their longevity and the simplicity to setup and pack down, the effectiveness of their purpose in keeping you dry and providing a good night sleep. Get good shit and hiking/camping becomes ridiculously more enjoyable, and there is a hell of a lot less waste because you never want to get rid of the stuff.
Thank God I had this thing, I sleep great everywhere, but the hammock extra great.
I walked down the hill, knew of a bloke that lived in the area that might be able to provide a bed, just somewhere to be safe until I could work out how to move forward. I had to find him.
Walked past a property, inside the property is a couple of old landcruiser’s that look in good working order. I see a caravan, a storage container and a bit of a shelter which the caravan is under. Somebody lives here, is living here, they clearly enjoy their privacy, also clearly respect and love the place they call home, it is beautiful. The setup is something I could very easily see myself in, I knew I would be there for privacy, rarely expecting unexpected company, this person probably the same.
I kept walking another 50 metres, Fred, what are you doing? Go back there, knock on the door and ask the person if they know where to find Phil.
I turned around and walked into the property. Without seeing myself in the mirror I know I am a mess, face is full stress, the absolute rock bottom point of my life. It would have absolutely shown, my face says everything, I cannot hide it, plenty of feedback on this one.
Holding back tears I knock on the door, an older man, a little overweight, very slightly hunched at the soldiers, beautiful calm face, and the most gentle melodic Australian twang voice says ‘hello, can I help you?’
Maybe. I’m Fred. Trying to talk without crying. I’m in a tough spot and am trying to find a person named Phil. A mate recommended me to get in contact with him, I know he is near Orford but that is all.
‘Not much to go on there I wouldn’t say.’
Nope, your right, it is what I have.
I had Phil’s number but I didn’t want to call, it was not right given the position and situation I was in. Anybody that was going to help me out needed to see what they were dealing with. I was a homeless mess living in the bush with nothing and nobody, everything most people are afraid of.
We started talking, ‘do you want a coffee?’ Yes please. Coffee comes out and we sit by the little pot belly fire drinking them, not saying much. Mark pulls out the pipe and smokes some cannabis, offers me the bowl, yes please.
Mark grabs out his cigarettes, offers me one, yes please.
We are starting to talk more, a smile has come on Mark’s face, a smile has returned to mine. Mark introduces himself, and I in return do properly too, we shake hands.
For the next hour we sat and talked, everything flowed, my current situation was breezed over, it wasn’t important. Mark and I were sitting there without any pressure, it was beautiful.
‘Fred, how about, you stay here for a few days, start with that, see how we go. There is a swag in the container, you’ll be comfortable and warm. Take your time, I don’t want you staying here full time but take your time, see if you can get this sorted without the pressure.’
Tears trickled down my face, I did not need to respond.
That night my weetbix and water turned into roast beef and potatoes. God it was beautiful, the best meal I have ever had and then some.
Five days later would be the only time Mark, or I, had to speak to the other about breaking the rules, taking the relationship a little too far.
The only rule Mark set, that he needed to say with his mouth was no shoes inside the caravan. Mark walks around it in bare feet, is the only place he really can, the immediate space around the caravan is gravel, little rocks, they are easily carried inside.
I was making us coffee, only needed the milk from the fridge, just one step in with the shoe, she’ll be right, took the one step.
‘Dude, take your shoes off before going into the caravan, the rocks wreck my feet.’
Sorry mate, I was being lazy, I’ll do better.
They were my exact words. Later we talked about the difficulties in coming into another’s space, this occasion and others, relationships in particular.
The simple interaction above, Mark was able to speak up when he needed to and me accepting immediately I did the wrong thing took our relationship to a new level. I knew he wouldn’t let me abuse this position, he knew I was doing my absolute best not to abuse it, we were both trying together, was all that mattered. It was very different to most of our experiences in relationship with others.
Mark literally saved my life. I ended up meeting Phil, they offered a space but it was very complicated and would not have been safe for me to really settle into, take my time, recover and still be here to tell the story six months later.
God, I love this man, Mark, I love him as I love my mother.
Yeah good buddies, we are going to talk a lot about Mark.
She told me so
Lorraine and I are sitting at the Surfside Pub having dinner, last minute decision.
An hour or so earlier Lorraine invited me to Mother’s Day lunch with a friend. I thanked her for the invite but I am likely going to be hanging out with Mark on Sunday. 30 minutes later she walks out to me smoking a dart and asks if I’d like to go to the Surfside, $20 palmi night.
Yep, great.
The meals first. Two great sized meals and two non-alcoholic drinks, neither of us consume alcohol, Lorraine sometimes, rarely, $43.00. Fantastic deal for Australia, about as good as it gets while also finishing up with a full, happy, satiated belly.
We are both stoned, both love pot, it is a common thing we discuss, this beautiful beautiful plant. Sit down at the table with our cokes, Lorraine’s sugar free, mine full 10 teaspoons, high as kites. Guess what good buddies?
Neither of us sat there like zombies drooling waiting for our munchie food to arrive. Both of us were showered, groomed(ish), presented well in public.
Then, the most ridiculous thing happened, we talked. We did not stop talking until we left the restaurant an hour and a half later. Beautiful conversation.
Arriving home Lorraine takes up her very comfortable armchair in front of the tele, rolls a joint and a few minutes later I smell the sweet odor of both cannabis and the herbal mix she uses as spin coming out the door.
Meanwhile, I am sitting outside pulling a bong. I stay here, she stays there.
Very rarely Lorraine comes to where I am sitting now, I’ll sit on the couch in the loungeroom for a couple of hours a day. I prefer outside, Lorraine inside.
We take it in turns to cook, I do most of the cleaning, it is much easier for me to get around than Lorraine. Similar age to Mark, but bigger, Lorraine noticeable and knowingly needs to lose weight.
Lorraine is trying to slim down, she wants tot but her body is letting her down. Goes to yoga and swimming, gentle things her body can currently tolerate but there is no point building a fitness foundation yet, she is waiting on another operation that has been delayed for five months. Three months minimum recovery before she can exercises other than the gentle ones mentioned.
I love Lorraine, I don’t need to say it because it comes up in the conversation but I will, Lorraine is the Aunty I choose.
Unlike Mark, the brother I choose, Lorraine and I exist in the same space when we are together sometimes, our general interst here does not align. Hers above, chilling inside, feeling safe, being warm. Me sitting outside, feeling safe, feeling warm.
Fred’s version includes a nice light chair he can move around a beautiful fire, put the bong and cigarette to his mouth whenever, and a teapot sitting next to him for when he wants something other than water to drink.
Mark and Fred’s version of safety are the same. Lorraine and Fred’s a little different.
I come in and out of my Aunty’s life, and vice-versa, just like Lorraine. Her house is my safety blanket, I am welcome anytime, I can live here full time if I want, we know we make it work well together. Both Lorraine and I repeat each other, it is very easy to live with you.
But, if I had a choice between hanging out with Mark and Lorraine I would choose Mark simply because a brother’s bond is a brother’s bond, an aunty’s bond is too, they are slightly different things, one is completely me, the other mostly.
The safety Mark and I created was what brought our relationship. We didn’t need to do a thing to create it, no compromise, no anything, we simply do the same thing in our chill time, completely compatible.
There is another brother I choose, Benjamin, through all this I still absolutely choose this man. I told him last time he was not my brother, he isn’t, not while he won’t listen to the one thing I am desperately pleading with him to hear, in every single other way he is.
I said I didn’t want him to be alone anymore, I meant I did not want Benjamin to be alone when Mum died.
Freddy, the other driver, was partly in our lives, once a year or two, even my Aunty would not have been the right fit. I had to be with my little brother, it had to be me. The bond between me and Benjamin outstrips my love for my mother, the only thing, to say I love this man with all my being is nowhere near accurate. He is my brother, always has and always will be, my beautiful little baby brother, my heart breaks into a million million pieces as to how much I miss him.
It could not even be Rachel or Danyel, it had to be the strongest bond, Mum or it only. I am pretty sure, even at our best, I was second to Mum for Benjamin, I don’t care, he is number one to me.
Before I left to pick him up I had 10 minutes alone with Mum. Said fuck all, held her hand, we really didn’t need to say more to one another. She couldn’t talk finally anyway, it was perfect. Ha! Trying to lighten the load a little, I have tears falling.
My last words to my mother were, ‘Mum, I am going to pick up my little brother. Thank you. I love you with all of my heart and I will see you soon, either here or there.’ I gave her the biggest hug I knew how to in her condition, let my tears fall on her cheeks, kissed her goodbye, turned my back and left.
I did not look back. I never look back. Do not expect it no matter how much you think I love you and am going to coming crawling after you, it will not happen.
Mum wasn’t going to be there when I returned, not the part of her that mattered, her and I knew it. During the 20 seconds I took to say what I did Mum acknowledged me, grunts and groans and little noises she somehow mustered up in her throat, there was nothing intelligible.
I knew what she said, I love you Frederick and am proud of you.
She said it to me many times in the previous year. The pinnacle of beauty, my first real conversation, was the year with Moni. We said everything that needed to be said, nothing was left on the table in regards to our personal relationship. Mum and I knew we loved each other, knew we were proud each of other because we said the words, the exact words to one another before we had to wait until the most desperate time, the last chance we had to.
Sitting at dinner with Lorraine, about 20 minutes, food still hasn’t arrived.
It has been really great living with you Fred, you absolutely know you are welcome back at any time?
‘Thank you Lorraine, definitely do, told me many times.’ Big smile on my face at the same time. ‘You know I love coming here, and should I need to return to Australia I bloody well will.’ Yep, I talk like this too.
‘In fact Lorraine, were I to choose for myself the perfect Aunty it would be you. I love being there and hanging out in the way we do. You’ll cook dinner, or I will, we’ll eat together mostly. Sometimes, I’ll look over and you are eating, its great. Vice-versa, same response, like it could not be better, there is no pressure.’ Many more examples too.
Fred, if you were my son I would be extremely proud, you are a really good man. Your mother would be proud of you.
I smiled a huge smile, ‘thank you Lorraine. And, I know she was, she told me so.’
A beautiful ending, the conversation led to us talking about similar experiences in the space. Me and Lorraine talk beautiful when together, are a beautiful duo together, but neither of us need to be together, simply add value to each other’s lives. Perfect Aunty-Nephew relationship.
You know how I know the last bit. I told her so, she told me so.
Lorraine and the darts
I want to get the issue with Lorraine out of the way, it is no issue, it does not block our beautiful relationship.
Lorraine is an ex-smoker, the worst type of non-smoker. Ex-smokers love telling smokers to quit, they can I suppose, they have achieved it.
Smoking, addiction and attachment is different for everybody. Smoking may have been something you took up at 23 for your adults reasons, it comes late, easy to break in comparison to something that has been with you your entire life.
Even then, your experience leading to the addiction is different to mine, we have to work through different things to understand.
Lorraine loves to tell me to give them up, primarily for the financial aspect, and I repeat a version of the above. Now, I mainly smile and get on with my business.
She knows I am not putting pressure on myself, that I am working to learn why I put it there in the first place and it will go when it does, when I understand it completely.
It is the only pressure Lorraine puts on me, maybe once per week together, generally come back here for three days to a week at a time.
Clearly, absolutely clearly, this is a non-issue and I am not, even for a moment, going to think about getting into a heated debate about it simply because I do not like this conversation. Our relationship is much better than that anyway, it wouldn’t happen.
Many times stuff like this gets in the way, with many people. There are just some things that people have and hold onto, they express them, so be it. When those some things become many things we start to get into different territory, becomes a problem, unnnecesasry problem.
But, really, what is the point of letting stupid shit like the above, leaving the toilet seat up, me not wanting to go to dance classes, or feeling too shit to go to breakfast with you get in the way of everything else?
Isaac
Little do I talk about Isaac, my son. Really, there isn’t much to say, words do not do our relationship justice.
Every moment with Isaac is my description of him, awe, it was all there was, nothing else. This thing, this perfect thing, came from me? No fucking way it did.
No fucking way it did, a big part of my problem with me at the time, was not worthy of anything let alone this ridiculously beautiful thing in front of me, that bloody came from me. Yep, confused I was buddies.
One moment is all it took to see the potential of me in Isaac. Just one, hence I do not understand how you continue to do the same things repetitively, worse things repetitively.
We tried to live as a family, it didn’t work, Amanda moved back to her folks and me Rachels. Before trying on our own I would stay there regularly, Amanda and Isaac here, in the shed sometimes.
The shed, it was a shed, tools, old furniture, stuff everywhere. I cleared a space, made it liveable depending on who you talk to and absolutely loved it, loved the privacy even without having a door. The no door, Amanda’s primary problem. Fair enough, doors and safety go together in our society, no problem with it.
It was hard here, the wall between the two bedrooms, mine and Rachels was very thin, almost every noise could be heard. Jerking off was stealthy business, sex almost impossible. Isaac crying almost unstoppable.
He was never like this, never just bawled uncontrollably, maybe three times in total, this one out of the blue. I took him out of the bedroom and into the living room and he fucking screamed and screamed and screamed, was already screaming in this way. There was nothing I could do, absolutely nothing, frustration started.
Frustration continued.
I squeezed him. Kept squeezing him until I knew I should not anymore, I squeezed a little harder.
Isaac stopped crying for a moment, stared me straight into the eyes and what I saw in him was pure fear. He, for the very first time was afraid of me. I stopped. I absolutely stopped, this behaviour and every other like it, in a fucking moment! How do you not see what you do to your children?
In my head the question, desperate question, popped in, how do I make you safe? The answer from Isaac was simple, be a better human being mate. His eyes said everything, I promised I would.
Amanda would use this moment on a bullshit violence order, which the part about me bashing someone was true at the time, but it wasn’t true. It was the lie I tried to undo to Benjamin, it was in defence of this rubbish which wasn’t entirely rubbish to Amanda. Part of her fear was justifiable and I caused it in the dumbest way, lying to hide the fact I do not mind intimacy with men.
Isaac is starting to settle down, she is in a panic and runs up to me and attempts to rip him from my arms. Amanda did not even ask for me to hand him over, no nothing, she hadn’t seen me squeeze him, purely due to him being upset. Her movements were completely erratic, I put my arm up to stop her getting through. Amanda pushes herself off my arm, I did not extend it, and takes four like movie over-dramatising steps back and then uses it on the order.
I ask the police about the activity above, also about how she can lie about other stuff, us never living together? Write the words when we have a rental certificate and all to prove we were? The police officer empathised, mate, you wouldn’t believe the stuff that is written on these things. Ridiculous lies, but there is nothing to stop it until court, the order has to be issued. Men, usually men are completely fucked over. Some are legitimate, many are not, it is a horrible thing we have to deal with.
The bloke was great, police officers I have a lot to say about, only getting started but they are people, some try, this bloke did, one of very few people from any walk of my life who did.
I did some dumb new parent shit, all as funny as fuck though. I’m tall, but not tall enough to ever think about fans, I learnt to think about fans when playing with Isaac and lifting him above my head. DONK. Yep, it was going and all.
Folding washing in the spare room, where do you want to go buddy? Clearly his non-verbal answer was the second washing basket full of his unfolded clothes, looked bloody comfy, it was on the bed. It was on the bed until it wasn’t, the wasn’t came with Isaac army rolling on the floor in front of my feet. Picked him up, a little shocked, but no harm done, didn’t even cry.
We rebuilt our trust and he gave me proof we were okay again in the most, I do not even know how to describe it way, because I have no friggin’ idea what I did in the first place.
Isaac is sitting in his high chair playing around with his food, full hands and mess.
Quickly, I loved how Amanda parented in regards to food, we were the same, Isaac can do what he needs to with eating. He is learning, we will not put pressure on him or get upset regardless of the speed or mess, the one on him, the walls, me, the dog, somehow in the fridge, it didn’t matter. Eating was made fun, we had a great time as a family.
I’m blabbering away to him, having a bit of a laugh in the process at his skills at eating, been eating long Isaac.
Amanda laughs in the background, brings up the time with her beautiful niece.
‘Fred, remember a few months back walking with my four-year-old niece and she tripped over?’
Yeah, what of it bud, remember it like it was yesterday, fucking funny.
Haha! ‘FRED, you said to her, been walking long?’
‘AND, she is four!’
I know bud, fucking funny.
I turn back to Isaac, continue my gibberish, nek minnit Isaac bursts into laughter, stares me straight in the eye and laughs from a space so deep in his belly anyone would think it is coming from his balls. God, Amanda how long did this go for? Like 30 minutes, not uncontrollable, he followed me everywhere with his eyes and fucking laughed like I have never heard before or since.
Ever read Stranger in a strange land by Robert A. Heinlein? Good read. There is a point in the book he learns to laugh, if you have read it you have an idea of what I am talking about above. It was phenomenal.
‘What did you do to him?’ asks Amanda cackling herself too.
No bloody idea mate, also in hysterics.
God it was funny.
I knew he absolutely loved me in this moment, trusted me, he knew the same in return. We were okay.
Willy
Willy, I’m not going to bang on too much about this wet paper bag, instead help you to understand when the words of others mean nothing.
Will and I were mates, I’ve mentioned it, we are not though. Not at all.
Willy blames his mother and father on everything, his total shitty life is their fault, never his. He cannot take any personal responsibility.
Will bitches and moans about his mother gossiping, making up stories, banging on to everybody who is anybody about her. Complains she does not care, only interest is to fluff her own muff. It’s pretty toxic and shit what she does.
Willy is the same though, the sadface that never leaves, head always down to the ground, complaining for others to show care when they say they care. But, then, Willy, will not reply to the people who love him, he says he loves, not at all.
Once in the past six months have Lorraine or I been able to chat with him, Willy wants everyone to know he is feeling shit and therefore they have to feel shit too.
You know Will is a weak weak man however from a simple interaction yesterday.
The last four contacts over six months have gone unanswered, I do not know how many times Lorraine tried to check in on him, more than me. Nothing from Will, one phone call in there somewhere to Lorraine, nothing from this man who says he cares about the people who care enough to check in on him. Nothing from this man who says he respects Lorraine and Fred.
Yesterday, I got stuck into him, my final message. Told him the weak piece of shit he is, that he is exactly like his mother, to wake up, look in the mirror and be better.
Now, were Will’s pathetic rubbish simply pathetic rubbish he would have continued his way, no contact. But, within moments Will replied, gave me the chance for one final message, ‘You are a weak man Will.’
William will respond to defend himself, make sure the words you say to him are turned back on you, just like his mother does. Fortunately, coming from a man like Will you know the words are substanceless, completely meaningless, all blame and no responsibility.
It’s Will’s life, a ridiculously sad worthless life, no life I want to participate in and nor should anyone else.
You all do a version of this though, never take responsibility, swing the axe without looking where you are swinging. Just cowards, the human condition, Will’s condition, your condition.
Ry
Ry, Kellie’s son, such a beautiful boy.
It is both Ry and Kellie I want to talk about today, more Kell.
Kellie is impatient with rubbish, ignorant rubbish, will asks questions upon questions in order to understand. Should you only give her dribble and incoherent snot Kellie will jump down your throat, basically tell you in a moment to be better. Does not have any interest in codswalllop.
Ry is quiet, reserved, contemplative. He thinks, he loves, he does not understand why things are the way they are, how there can be so much hurt in this world.
Ry is also a boy, loves video games, hanging out with his mates, doing boy things. Sometimes, with all kids, these things take priority when they shouldn’t, alternatively he’ll try and push to keep participating in them past when he knows he should be putting them away.
Kellie, she gets stuck into him, ‘Ry, how many times have we talked about this? We have an agreement, I keep my part and am asking you to keep yours. I shouldn’t have to keep reminding you to uphold your end of the bargain.’
But Mum. ‘No buts mate, I’m tired of talking about this with you. Put it away, get going.’
Kellie is talking to Ry, 11 or 12, same when he was five or six, as she does to her colleagues when they are not pulling their weight, same voice, tone, volume and everything. Treats everybody the same.
Ry, needs patiences, lots of it. The above does not seem like patience, but it is, it is repetitive, the messages from Kellie and the way she speaks. There is no time, capacity or interest in games and rubbish, the family has had enough of it.
From what I understand Kellie and her husband had a beautiful relationship, Ry absolutely adores his Dad, however confusing the situation is.
The husband was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease prior to or after their arrival to Port Hedland, where I met Kellie. The husband was out of the picture by the stage.
Parkinson’s is an issue with the central nervous system, it affects our controlled movements and also the involuntary. Parkinsons itself did not cause the marriage breakdown and difficulty, the diagnosis was all it took.
Often, a diagnosis is what destroys people first, the actual disease comes in after and takes their life away from them.
The diagnosis came with an obsession that clouded every other part of life, it consumed everything. The husband had a great job which was affected, he underperformed, was eventually removed from the position. Fighting began again, the unfairness of it, I have this and that, you can’t do this.
Buddies, of course an employee can remove you for not meeting job requirements, particularly considering the position this man was in. He could not fulfil the duties, unfulfilled duties which came at great expenditure to his employer, and rolled onto important areas in the community.
Being fired spiralled the obsession further, consumed everything there was to consume, including the marriage.
Ry is so young, to see these people in front of you disintegrate without understanding is a difficult difficult thing. Ry had the extra complication, on top of his lack of understanding was his sister’s additional lack of understanding, words themselves were beyond Harper’s comprehension yet.
He has to watch the pain in the adults he loves, the confusion in his sister, the heartbreak in himself. Clearly, he does not understand. He maintains his care and love for Harper, his mother, for everyone well after the situations settles down, he maintains it to today.
Kellie, so beautiful with him.
There is the nonsense he tries to get away with, Kell, as mentioned gets straight onto it, puts it to bed. We just do not put up with that type of crap here, it wastes our moments together.
However, when Ry doesn’t understand, if Kell is pushing a bit hard everything changes.
She watches him as she speaks, looks him in the eye, looks everybody in the eye. Sees him change, become confused, start to withdraw and every single thing about her demeanour changes, god it is beautiful.
The direct tone goes away, the volume drops, her face softens, body relaxes, I’m not sure she realises she does any of this.
Big deep breath, maybe three, takes some time before saying another word, not letting her frustration grow, creating further confusion for Ry.
Kellie recognises when her kids, especially Ry, does not understand her and is becoming confused, she knows communication is breaking down.
‘What’s happening Ry?’ says Kellie as she drops at the knees, puts her face equal with Ry’s, gets close enough to talk gently and to hear his words through the confusion. The patience she shows in this conversation, and many more is pure love, care, understanding that my boy needs support now, like he has and I have many times through our confusion together.
I’m not going to continue, you can understand what I am explaining. Recognising confusion in your children is beyond words important, it is the first sign they do not understand, are confused and need support.
Ry, is the most beautiful supporting brother, he loves absolutely and is given every opportunity to explore what he has to give and grow into it. Kellie’s beautiful approach, both the nonsense and non-nonsense, has created a beautiful trust where he can explore safely whether it is possible to be a man with a big heart in this world.
It is all he needs. Phenomenal parenting.
Was wondering
The other favourite Christmas occured when I was about 11, Benjamin nine, it was brilliant.
Again, Danyel as equally unimpressed with this one as the Blanket Bay X-mas day.
6am, earlier, it is summer and the sun isn’t out yet, so closer to 5.30 everyone is awoken to a might racquet from Fred. It is Christmas day and Fred being this excited usually meant something good, presents, a family trip!
A family trip it was, one for the ages!
Fred and Danyel in the truck, big semi-trailer truck, massive trailer which is currently empty. The rest of us into the Tarrago.
About an hour later we are somewhere in the middle of the Gellibrand ranges, it is ridiculously cold for December 26, and the ground is soggy as buggery. Danyel knows what is happening by now and is spitting chips as Fred backs the truck up to a whole heap of juicy trees left just for us by the loggers out this way.
Thanks guys, so generous.
I didn’t catch on until the chainsaws and axes came out.
Danyel. Not. Happy. Jan.
To cut what is clearly a fun traditional christmas day activity for most Aussie families of illegally chopping firewood in the bush short. Ha, no, this is not a typical Aussie family christmas activity. My Dad, he was a ridiculously funny man.
Like, did not give a single fuck about some shit, clearly. One of those not giving a fucks was what date we could get away with making sure the family would be warm for the next five years. Presents do not beat stories like this, not even close, especially when food is hard enough to keep up to three growing boys and a girl, and all their mates, buying firewood would often be a big squeeze.
Eight hours later trying to drive the truck out. Vroom vroom. Tyres spin. No movement.
Vroom. Vroom. Nada
Vroom Vroom. Moorv Moorv. Vroom Vroom. Still nothing.
Moorv, is vroom backwards, trying to say he tried the forward reverse trick to get unstuck.
What happened next almost made Danyel have an orgasm, he was SUPER DUPER happy!
Truck too stuck to move, so obviously the family christmas activity extended to throwing wood off the truck until it was light enough to move, half the load later it does, 100 metres or so. The wood is not staying behind. Another hour and a half lugging it back to the truck and we are on our way home to beautiful food, some presents and a nice warm fire. Everyone rooted.
Beautiful beautiful day.
Throughout the day there is a heap of down time for me and Benjamin, both too young to safely operate the chainsaw, Benjamin can barely lift the axe and I only have a few swings in me at this age. Our primary job was lugging the wood to the semi.
Last night I ate guinea pig, it was bloody good, believe it or not tasted like chicken, combined with some pork, it is bloody good.
Eating something like Guinea Pig in Ecuador, Peru and other countries isn’t solely about doing what others do, respecting culture and all that stuff. There is the addition that these places make some foods we do not eat phenomenally well, they are beautiful dishes tourists miss because of their attachment to the animal being consumed.
Meat is meat, regardless the animal, meat is meat. Take the skin off something, pull the flesh from the bone, put it on a plate and people will both eat and enjoy it. Tell them what it is first and things change, our socialising changes our taste buds before the buds have even bitten into the muscle.
That’s what we eat, the meat, mostly muscle. Same as yours and mine. The white stuff around and within it? Fat, yes, same again. Animals all have the same stuff and it is all equally good to eat. The name doesn’t change it.
Changes depending on the circumstances it came from though. I do not particularly like wild meat, gamey is the word used for the taste that comes with it. Will eat it but not my favourite. Pigs, sheep, cows, turkeys, chickens, geese, and a whole heap of other animals we had around the family home, fed them and treated the animals extremely well, pets first, food second. The meat was delicious.
Most meat we eat comes from farms, in Australia most of those farms are doing the right thing and then some.
Grew up in a farming community, worked on some farms, 800 plus head one near Gloucestershire in New South Wales. Have heard all the horror stories, but it’s like mushrooms, one bad provider gets the attention when the other 50 are going above and beyond to ensure the safety of their clients.
These places, like, God, my mates farms, every farm I have ever walked onto the farmers love their animals, absolutely adore them. Cows, just friggin’ God they are beautiful animals.
You know a happy cow when you see one, especially one with a full belly, it will be lying down, head up, eyes half closed or closed, basking in the sun and chewing cud. It looks as content as anything could be, it is. All these farmers, especially the Forbe’s farm in NSW, are the reason behind it. Man, they are beautiful people.
Noddy, the most experienced guy on the young farm, 45 or so, help him one day with a couple of cows that are having issues with their feet. Common issue due to a couple of years of being really wet isn’t allowing the ground to dry out enough for the cows feet to dry either. Constant wet hooves causes a type of foot rot, nothing can be done once it starts except try and get the hoof dry.
When it gets really bad something needs to be done, the cow is limping and will start doing so badly soon, it can live through it and be okay but quality of life is significantly reduced.
Usher the cow into a tight space made of metal rails all over the place, close it up, the cow is pinned completely. Noddy grabs the leg with the infected foot and moves it into what looks like a torture device, rips the lever and the poor cows leg is fixed backward. Cow trying to kick and break its way out. Cannot move, it looks awful.
Noddy grabs a big fuck-off razer blade and starts chopping away at the underside of the hoof, the cow moans in a terrible fashion, I force myself to keep watching. Terribly hard is one word.
To be honest, I had no idea what was going on or why we were doing this to the animal. But, I already knew Noddy by now, knew his beautiful BEAUTIFUL boy, knew he was an reflection of the beautiful stuff in his Dad. The doing the right thing because the right thing needs to be done part, integrity part. So, I didn’t say anything or let my feelings towards the scenario get in the way of what was happening, was pretty damn sure Noddy was doing the right thing.
Finishes up after the last of the goo and white shit has finished leaking out by whacking a cover over the hoof, it will help keep the foot dry and therefore heel. Opens up the cage and the cow walks out calmly, it kicks back a couple of times with the newly cast leg and settles. The kick back wasn’t aggressive it was more along the lines of why am I suddenly not limping when 10 minutes ago I was kind of kick.
Walked out completely fine, took 10 minutes, not even.
What Noddy was doing looked horrible from the outside, absolutely, but watching his face and eyes as he did there was full attention, absolutely attention to every moment. The very best thing he could do for the animal was take away its suffering in the only way available, through creating a massive moment of pain. Kind of like me and the mouth wash, however this relief for the cow isn’t hours it will potentially be fully healed, no pain, by the time the hoof protection falls off.
Noddy looked at me, saw I did not understand, explained the above.
Farmer’s people God, give them a break, understand what they give to these animals. Their whole lives, most are doing more than the best they can do, it is the only thing they can do.
Farming is an extremely lonely and isolated existence. Suicide rates among farmers is heartbreakingly atrocious, pure social isolation.
The guinea pig. Some places it is a national dish, where I am now a regional one. Means a simple thing, almost everywhere you go it will be on the menu. Everyone makes their own version of it, there is heaps of competition, doing it well is important. So, you can almost guarantee when you see a national dish on the menu it is going to be good.
Witchety grubs twice the size of an adult middle finger, they are not so good. Did not even need to put them in my mouth to know it, Benjamin helped out.
While Fred and Danyel have the chainsaws going and we have carted all the wood that is safe to we entertain ourselves. We are in the middle of the bush, can do anything we want, absolutely no chance we will get in trouble. The chainsaws not drawing attention means we definitely won’t.
Chasey, hide and seek, playing with things, poking sticks in holes, climbing trees, getting hungry.
Of course lunch was when lunch was, we were young boys, our bellies did not like to wait. Do what boys do and start daring eachother to do shit, the dares become more and more daring. Eventually, of course, we are at the point that all the things crawling, walking, slithering on the ground are the dares. Whole bunch of stuff we did with them, mainly ate ’em.
Benj won in the end, the wood grubs did the trick, as mentioned the size, double the width too. About three mouthfuls these things were, both of us were hesitant to bite into them. We’ll go at the same time, says Benj, ‘yep’, replies me.
Holding the grubs in front of us they go into the mouth, I pretend to bite down, Benjamin does.
God, just fucking God it was disgusting people.
I watched as yellow guts and goo in amounts I could not believe squirted all into Benj’s mouth and came squirting out towards me. I did not need to go any further. Fuck it was funny.
Eating insects in Asia and all that stuff is no problem for me, none of the above made us sick (do not recommend it though) and we had a bloody good time.
I’m not as comfortable as Benjamin is with insects, clearly, especially spiders. He simply picks them up with bare hands when they are in a place of bother and takes them to a place of less bother.
When his girls are hurting (or anyone is hurting) is so beautiful with them, brings them into his arm and leaves them to express themselves as they need to. Doesn’t pressure them to tell him what is wrong, waits until they have settled and their ears are on his heart, they start talking when ready.
This man, beautiful heart is not the word for what he has, ridiculously diculously beautiful man. True peacock.
Sadly, for my little brother, he had to watch as the person he loved with all his heart, had the best of best times with, like the above and many others, be abused in hideous ways. The torture method, when Fred was home from driving trucks for a week he would get his fill, sometimes it would happen multiple times in the one day. Benji and I were always together, he would watch this shit like you watch TV.
Fred targetted me because I am me, think my own thoughts, be my own person, talks too much, terrible at practical trade type stuff. Benjamin was quiet and reserved in front of adults, he learnt this from watching what happened when I wasn’t. When it was just us and our mates, no adults, really don’t need to say it, we were not.
Knowing Benjamin now you would never believe he was quiet, but it’s true, he was.
Ben was, and still is, extremely good with tools and mechanics, works as a diesel mechanic and has done for a long time. Excellent with his hands, Fred did not need the patience to teach him required with me. Patience and Fred, probably the only two times they have occupied the same space.
My little brother was really young when Fred started driving trucks, six or seven, 13 or so when he was out of our life. It’s the reason I have been so hard on my other two siblings. His primary abuse was that of the witness, it’s all he did, witness domestic violence, witness his beautiful brother being battered to within an inch of his being, over and over and over gain.
Later, when I was hiding in whatever hole, up whichever tree, Benjamin would come and sit with me. He’d ask me if I was okay knowing I wasn’t, could see I was still shaking and crying, and just sit there with me. Sometimes for hours it felt, then I’d start talking and we’d laugh and be back to our normal selves.
Without Benjamin I would have had nobody at all, would have been completely alone for a very very long time. He was always there for me and never ever abused me. He, like the rest of us, did not even know we were being abused, it was just normal family behaviour.
Other things Fred does is the reason I know the effects domestic violence has on witnesses. Fred does this shhhhhh thing, there is a whole facial expression involved, the same one he maintains through the torture method. It basically says if you do not shut your mouth you are in for a difficult time, it is done every time we, or I, started to talk. Makes one feel absolutely worthless, like nothing that comes from them is worthy of being heard, that we are nothing and nobody.
Benjamin does the above to absolute perfect detail, it makes me shutter, one of the behaviours I am fighting to remove.
I love my little brother so much, his girls so much, that I will destroy his heart, my own heart to ensure he knows I am serious about doing anything for him. He does now, they all do, I have done everything for him, it cannot be denied. Have repaid the love he showed me for so many years.
The thing, beyond doubt, I know is that the behaviours brought forward, the ones continuing on that were started by my father, are known now and they will not be happening as regularly as they were. Benjamin, it would be extremely difficult for him to accept what I have said, it is all he knows, repeating behaviours without knowing/remembering he ever saw them happen in the first place.
Rachel and Danyel, needing their help to open his eyes is one word for it, support, just support. Danyel, god he is a piece of shit, but Rachel, she isn’t and she knows all this but is too afraid to speak up because, as have mentioned, would need to admit to what I have told her about herself. The nasty nasty thing she can be, and it is as true as fuck.
However, still, I know my nieces are safer now, and nephews because of all of this. It is the only thing that matters when it comes to DV, doing the right thing.
So, my love for my little brother, yeah, I will give up everything for it. I will give up him, I did.
There are many examples through my writing of Benjamin’s behaviour, here I’m not going to do much more of that. As I said, he is a phenomenally beautiful man, ridiculously so, and I was wondering when I would finally get to talk about him. Glad we are there.
Love you mate from the being of my being, your brother, Frederick.
Rachel – A Mother’s Heart
Moni’s funeral was a phenomenal thing. This woman who had nothing at all to give except the biggest of big hearts gave exactly what she had, it’s how I know one person with nothing but a big heart can make a difference.
Mum was just Mum, this beautiful presence in our lives, we knew it for ourselves, had no idea how far her heart extended. It was a mother’s heart. Angels could not have been a better guardian.
Her funeral, man, it was absolutely packed. People were out the door, they could not fit in. We needed a bigger venue, a much bigger venue, the venue we chose we already thought was too big. What a beautiful woman.
Well, Fred, on the other hand. Eight family and friends, eight of his commission friends. That was it. This greedy greedy man who gave nothing, took everything. The choices I made, the person I made my hero, was the right choice. I reckon we’ll all agree on that one, whether you agree with me in general or not.
By the time the funeral came around I was pretty apathetic (emotionless) to be honest. Was completely sick of this man breaking my heart in hideous ways, he did not deserve my pain. He fucking did not. But, I did though, I deserved to be able to release it, let it go, just feel some bloody love in a space dominated by Fred for once.
Believe it or not Danyel was that love, every single thing I needed and more. God he can be a beautiful man. I will not give up on him, never ever close my door if he shows up no matter what the reason, to get stuck into me, I do not care. The door is fully wide open waiting for him.
Danyel wasn’t coming to the funeral, didn’t blame him. The day of the funeral, nope, not coming.
I stood out of my seat to give my little speech, nothing about Fred, solely about mental health and how it destroys lives, destroyed our life. The meaning coming in loving words for the wonderful family around me, it was beautiful for the circumstances, it really was.
Walking up I was emotionless, simply going through the formality of words from my mouth, sitting back down, go drink some beers and put all this shit behind me.
Reach the pew, look up and Danyel is sitting there. It broke me. Danyel was there for me, for Benjamin, for Rachel, he gave up all his hatred to Fred for his love for us. God, it was beautiful. My speech was no longer apathetic, haha, it was pure love for my love for him that was coming from him.
He is a GOOD MAN.
Rachel, never ever did she question it. She despised Fred too, but never ever questioned being there, whether for us or herself it did not matter. Never ever would have mattered. To say I love this woman is stupid, absolutely stupid meaningless snot, it is not even in the ballpark.
My sister Rachel, even before she was a mother had the heart of every mother. Fucking beautiful human being.
My only regret with Rachel is I told her that my Dad was not her Dad one day when we were both hurting, like my pain was more justifiable because I was his seed and she was his surrogate. There is no difference.
I know there is no difference because of how Rachel shuts down her world. It is the face that does it first, the same, exactly the same face Fred used to shut us all down.
Fred, he was smart, really smart. He knew he could not abuse and control Rachel like he did us, constantly using physicality, he would not get away with it so used other techniques. Used them on all of us but I can guarantee particularly Rachel, it’s how I know the face so well, witnessing it all the time. Paying attention to Fred just like he taught me.
Her face when she reacts to her frustration, anger, sadness and so many other emotions does Fred, does it in minute perfect detail. The words that follow are short, disruptive, brash, and rash without swearing or using offensive language. It is frightening.
When one does not listen, the face becomes more and more tight, the words become more and more short, the volume steadily increases.
The volume stops increasing at a stage and she starts to speak very slowly and with a belittling demeanour, she is teasing without any humour, making everybody around her feel like shit. Feel unsafe. Too scared to express any part of themselves. It is really horrible, she does not know she is doing it, she is. She knows now anyway, I have already told her.
Okay guys, we have our four victims now and how each one responds to trauma under the same roof, starting to see some things that may be present in your own life?
But Fred, what about you mate, where are you in all this?
Come on mates, seriously, come on. What is the big theme, the major tool, underneath a hell of a lot of my writing? There are chapters, three of them in particular absolutely dedicated to it. Drugs friends, clearly my pathway is drugs. It is a very familiar pathway, is it not?
What really gets to me about Rachel however is what she has done with her life. Given up her heart, her beautiful beautiful heart, for materialism. It’s as sad as fuck too because she could have had everything she has now and done what she loved. Moreso, she could have been happy, she is not, it breaks my heart.
The ocean was her love, absolute love, she went to Canberra and sold her life to the Public Service, sitting behind a desk and doing nothing. Well nothing but create confusion with every policy, every decision, each stroke of the pen. Climate Change. There is almost nothing more confusing in Australia than this subject, the confusion is because of the policy makers behind it, people like Rachel who represent people like Albaneze, this piece of greedy weak coward trash who cannot even answer a yes or no question without spending 20 minutes blaming the opposition. Even then, still not answering the damn question.
She could have gone to Canberra, got a job doing something relevant and rewarding, even the science aspect behind it. Even moreso work to a position that led to her visiting the ocean, testing its waters, identifying species.
Identifying species, have mentioned it, and it is why I, and every single person who talks to her about it, knows beyond doubt this shit is where her life could and should be. She discovered a nudibranch in uni, gave it a name and all, there is not a thing besides joy in her eyes and being when she talks about this thing. Joy and joy only.
Joy that is rarely there anymore. Her face is stressed, the lines are sadness, tiredness, they are a step towards giving up everything that means everything to her completely. Only a step away from being completely disconnected to the heart she once shared. The one that is now almost completely covered up with walls, barriers and guards, the thing she will not let anyone get near when it is so so beautiful.
It is the same as Mum, in a different way, I do not want to see Rachel go through that shit, nothing like it, cancer or anything else, depression the top of that fucking list. She is almost there, it is heartbreaking.
Rachel please, our mother’s heart, your own mother’s heart, especially your own one, please do not let it go. Pretty pretty please.
The end of us
Hey buddies,
A little letter to finish this one off. I like to do it this way, feels personal, it is personal.
That’s it for our part in this story. Danyel, the boys aren’t mentioned, they will be mate but they do not belong here, I’m chatting a bit about sport, they belong there.
Wasn’t so bad, was it? I didn’t tell anybody about the times I told you I would choose a stranger over you, one with a needle in their arm, in a life and death situation, oops. It’s true bud, and I still would. You have courage in you mate but it is completely covered by a blaming little child, your heart will break through some times, but it is rare. I have seen it, the example above is the pinnacle of sacrifice anyone has done for me mate. It came from fucking you, God damn mate. You hated that man so much, the only thing that was more powerful was your love. Please give it mate.
I prioritise you over everyone should you ever want to come back into my life and work together. We know each other, and I know beyond doubt that you have gone and done the only thing I asked you to do, grow a fucking spine. This will be absolute courage mate because I am now Fred to you. But, mate, I am fucking not.
If this thing goes anywhere, gets so big that Jesus himself comes down from heaven and asks me to come up and audit the place to make sure it is safe I put my family first. I put you first for a very simple reason, we have spent our lives together, we know one another’s story already, there is no bullshit. And, other people know nothing of me, just a bunch of words on a screen. If this was hard for them, I wonder if they think about how hard it has been for you guys? We all know this was NOT my first attempt.
Courage, it will take ABSOLUTE courage for you guys to choose to come back into my life, it’s what we need in the healing space. Our family needs healing. I will already know you have courage, do not know if others do. It’s all we need buds.
Plus I love you, absolutely, unequivocably, unarguably.
I’d say yes to Jesus, I’ll do it right now bud. Then ask him one question;
If you and I got drunk one night up there, started fooling around and our cocks accidentally ended up in each other’s arses, would the big guy be okay with that?
Jesus says no, well, of course my answer is no. Do not even need to go up there to check it out, if we can’t be us what’s the fucking point? He says yes, I give him the thumbs up, do not need to go up there. It’s free, we can be who we are together, our space is safe. It’s all I want with you guys, to be myself, to be yourself, for you kids to be themselves.
You can see with what we have gone through how we have taken on the behaviours from our past. You can, you really can, everyone else can. It’s true mates. You can understand how it is stopping us from being who we are together.
I’m me Danyel, Rachel, Benjamin. I am Me. The same me you know. You guys all know it already. You understand what I am trying to do and you’ll understand that I could not let you, or anybody, continue pointing out other people’s behaviour when we ourselves were doing them. It didn’t make sense. It’s all I did, change the narrative from them to me and you. I did it in my conversations with you, rather than them. Like, it’s all I did and it cost me everything and everyone, you beautiful people. How do you not understand?
Please understand guys, it really is a matter of life and death. Not mine, I am safe now, it’s not mine I’m worried about or you should be worried about.
I love you,
Frederick