The Lady in the Back Row

Doom scrolling is so unhealthy. Awake at 4:30am.

Re calibration this morning hopefully building on the last few days of wellness to gain some traction.

Feeling Positive ☘️

Pilates again today, a familiar rhythm, grounding and steady.

Yesterday was spent cleaning and preparing for the week ahead, small tasks that quietly set things in motion.

Today is haircuts and more preparation.

A little bit of Aid, pomegranate juice, very low blood pressure.

My aim for today is simple: a few spoons of vegetable soup.

In the background, VCAT is still in progress, waiting on a date.

My brother looked underneath the car and took a photo , the leak appears to have been patched with an orange goo.

Seeing that was shocking.

We’ve also learned the car yard has closed down, another complication in an already exhausting process.

Sunday.

My brother returned home today. The past week has been spent sharing the load, and the support has been deeply appreciated. I’m so grateful the kids were able to see that we do have a family member who truly cares.

Progress has been made — tiny amounts of fruit, and the beginnings of a daily routine returning.

I’m hopeful we can continue to gain traction and keep moving, step by step, toward recovery.

We took the day off and went on an adventure with the family — Phillip Island, Amaze and things.

My brother will head back home tomorrow.

Yesterday felt like a real step forward.

Half a strawberry.

A small chunk of mango.

A shower.

And a delusion fought.

Pilates.

Kids.

Work.

Hospital Discharge.

A morning that feels steady.

One step closer to recovery.

Recently a jeweller tells me my new jade pendant needs reinforcing.

Says my necklace will break.

Three thousand dollars.

It rattles me.

I get a second opinion.

My jeweller looks at it, smiles.

“Beautiful pendant. Strong chain. Don’t touch it. It’ll last for years.”

Sometimes the lesson isn’t about jewellery.

It’s about remembering:

not every warning is truth.

not every opinion deserves power.

and trusting who — and what — you already know.

It’s lovely to have my brother here. He loves my girl, and it’s heartbreaking to see her so unwell.

Will the sickness break? Or will I keep watching it attack her mind and body? That question is a constant presence.

The routine remains — work, school, animals, two houses, hospital.

I try not to think about the what ifs.

I try not to think about the kids hearing the word death, or the weight of that worry settling on them.

So I just get on with it.

I make the day as normal as possible.

I wake too early,

before the responsibility comes for the day.

The full moon is still there.

Pale. Lingering.

Not ready to leave yet.

For a moment, everything is quiet.

Before the day starts asking things of me,

before the noise,

before the weight,

I whisper a small prayer.

I trust the future heard me.

Doom scroll.

Sickness on repeat.

Sunday’s responsibilities.

Eighth hospitalisation.

The new hospital is now open, she has a room with a beautiful view of the bay that stretches out to the city on a clear day.

She is very unwell……

My brothers have been her only other family support.

I am grateful.

One comes tomorrow from interstate.

He has always been a wonderful uncle and supporter to her and the children.

It will be good for them to see we actually do have some family and that we are not totally alone.

The calmness of less urgency today.

No immediate rush of work, school, hospital.

The last time I brought my dog here to sleep, (she needs to be chained at home,) she squashed her solid ten-year-old body into the tiny, sixteen-year-olds kennel, resulting in an opera of barking and crying all night.

This time I tried to do better.

I searched for her very own waterproof bed.

$110 later, my daughter watching my return on the ring camera suggests I have wasted my money, her dog would surely chew it.

I snapped hard.

Not because she was wrong.

But because I needed this one small thing to work.

Finally, no barking symphony.

Step outside for my coffee…

FOAM EXPLOSION!

Her dog surely chewed it.

First world problems.

This will not be ruining my

Slow -paced, enjoyable, relaxing, do-less-today, recharge Saturday.

Finally, some relief.

Hospital………..

Now it’s a different struggle.

The juggle.

Holding all the balls in the air.

Work full time.

Two houses.

Three dogs.

Two cats.

Fish.

School.

Work says it supports people through crisis.

Reality is quieter.

You must be transparent to ask for flexibility.

But not too transparent.

Because honesty

can become liability.

You learn where the line is.

Motion is mercy.

Routine is survival.

And somewhere inside that noise,

hope keeps breathing.