Humour and Neglect, pure and simple

Contains swearing: The word ‘bloody’.

Soo many things I want to talk about.

That some people get left behind and that’s just what happens (so don’t even bother trying). Oi! Stuff You. I’m worth more than you are – if you believe that.

(Stuff you you selfish whatever’s).

The volcanic eruption near Tonga. The impacts on coastal people world wide. How many bloody people will starve or die or just not be able to earn money. Another country. The displaced, the homeless. The vultures that are fine (in some ways) to profit off emergencies.

I want to talk about my sense of humour. That I bloody have one. That I can be kind, lovely to be around and fun.

I don’t know how many of you have experience this, but a few people have said “you’re easy to be around”. Does anyone know this about me?

How much joy I took this morning (?) in an ABC radio game – Weak Link to Novak Djokovic. That humour can keep us going – without going insane. (Of course. And Love makes the world go round.)

How I started out my day feeling nice from a dream of being supported.

How many times this morning while getting fresh air and some sunlight, my CPTSD (complex childhood trauma) was triggered. How I let it be. How I moved on.

I’d love to tell someone/ people about my body language, like sitting wrists overlapping on my lap like a good girl. Noticing a different stance where I may have been handcuffed.

As I took pride in as a teenager – moving my head to triangulate and notice variations in cicadas and birds.

How accurate the cover pages of my first and second chapbooks portrayed visually my behaviour this morning while getting that fresh air.

How despite noticing my triggers and body language responses, how it has been a pretty good day in some ways.

Ways that working class people wouldn’t understand.

I produced nothing. I wrote nothing. I earned no money.

I researched media training and (again, because I’ve forgotten) how to approach podcast presenters about being a guest.

Here is what I did do, that some people will understand the magnitude of. I listened to the radio. Sense of Community.

I researched stuff. Engaging my brain/ intelligence.

I listened to music. Actual music. Sorely missed for a few years.

Allowed myself to grieve. Allowed myself to leave that and be present/ in the moment. Run of the mill.

I updated apps on my phone and computer. Trying to get my computer and phone to run less hot. Putting off buying new tech that I just can’t afford. Feeling blessed that I have enough internet data nowadays.

I thought about a lot of stuff. I let my thoughts be and run their course. Disassociation and mindfulness. Because, of course, to get out of disassociation, you practice mindfulness. Being Present. Being aware and fully accepting what is reality right now.

I opened a document with no saved name. Scary.

I also read a document I’d been putting off re-reading. It turned out to be a poem I had written ages ago. Intelligence and order came to the fore – I re-worded the title to be easier to find. More accurate. It’s pretty strong stuff. On Entitled Rage by Men and how I finally ask for help from a friend the fourth time the bastard came at me. Otherwise, the comfort I gained by just knowing (imagining) that someone would back me up.

I want to laugh with other people.

I feel surrounded by strangers. A Taxi driver. I don’t know who they are. My neighbours – I’ve talked to some. Don’t know what most think of me. Pitiful probably. Shop people. Always changing or not appropriate to get to know them. When I can I be present. Be a wonderful listener for them.

Yet also that I have contributed significantly at times to public discourse. Just a hunch, but a hunch with examples I could cite. If anyone asked.

That I yelled out “Hi Neighbour” to someone walking their dog today. Where I was. In my doorway. Peeking out to get fresh air. That “I just wanted to say Hi” (vulnerable and brave).

And that – my god, I don’t have to be serious and deep all the time. I want people to know that. (Does anyone know that anymore?)

One example – when I saw Dr Attwood and Dr Garnett when I considered myself homeless for a month or whatever – was me telling them – “I’m sorry and I’m not for swearing. It’s one of my natural ways of speaking.” (self-advocacy, being ‘yourself’) We went on a tangent of “How dare I” and “oh I would never…” ‘proper English protocol’. My mum was raised by an English woman, in some ways.

Guys – (and don’t stuff me around with the wording – what am I supposed to call you? Y’all (which some people take offense at? Readers dear? (I’m not your dear!”) You people? (excuse me?) Group? (aah, what?) – guys – I want to laugh with people.

I want to know that people are around me who have my back.

If you are one of those people, please get in touch. I would love to know more people that:

B) really, really are willing to be present and are capable of listening and just accepting who you are with.

A) know I’m capable of not being deep and serious all the time and

C) Not to mention, are willing to feel heard or that someone is trying to understand you.

I’ve been told a few times that I’m a great listener. I pay attention. You feel heard. I create intimacy. Our own bubble.

Guess what? That, inevitably for me, lends itself to humour.

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