Enter Sandman---Metallica
Without Prejudice
When I first heard Enter Sandman I thought it was some kind of satanic music emanating from my daughters rebellious boyfriends room. Along with the clouds of smoke coming out of the open doorway the music almost had a form and shape, a dark missile of heavy metal languorously drifting into the thin cold air of the rest of the house.
He was to be beaten there, the rebellious boyfriend, by older druggies he owed money to. He had to jump out one of the closed glass windows to escape them and ran to a neighbours for help. We all shrieked in horror when we saw him, well not me, the girls did. He looked like the elephant man, not one bit of his face not swollen or marked. I just looked at him exhausted.
I had already taken in my daughter after she left him, she vomited on arrival, four little boys in tow, aged 10,5, 3 and two. I worked full time at Springvalley then and had bought a house in Springfield Court, Noble Park North. A cute cottage style house, my first buy on my own after a crappy divorce. ( All divorces are crappy ) I have yet to see a decent one yet, so much emotion and hurt. Someone once said divorce is like going a car crash every day for at least two years.
The Chinese believe a divorce consists of a thousand silken strings breaking. And as each string breaks there is hurt. The dreams and plans you had for the future, the kids weddings, the solo Christmases, the interminable first year of anniversaries, the Unknown, the selling of the house. New relationships, will they work ? Mostly no, and that second break makes you fell like the worst failure ever.
I would never go through a marriage again simply because I could not go through another divorce.
I have lived with men but never ever thought the relationship would last as the statistics for a second time breakup are higher than the 50/50 statistic of divorce for the first. About 75%. That's a shocking statistic. And they say it comes from the fact you see the early warning sounds of disaster sooner from experience. Until you learn. I had to have counselling three times before I finally realised I felt sorrier for others than I did myself.
I liked to " save" people. A Joan Of Arc trait, that did me absolutely no good. The people involved didn't want to be saved and anxiety made me controlling. I like to think I am a lot healthier now, emotionally, mentally and physically but who knows ? I am probably still the over anxious worrying little nerd I always was with nails bitten to the quick.
I used to make allowances for others as I wrongly thought I had a fabulous childhood. The last counsellor ( who was unbelievably my first psych also, after Lauren died ) told me I may have felt loved and cared for in a big family and kind parents but I lost a brother at 5, my Mother was mentally ill after the Second World War and we moved all the time. I went to 17 different schools and my older Sister, Jackie would have to take me weeping and wailing to nursery school and primary school. Especially if I was late or it was my first day.
Funnily enough once there I would excel at the work. It came easily to me. I could read and write before I went to school and was put up a year in Prep at Port Augusta. My brother , Jamie was killed the following year along with his best friend in a terrible tragedy. The town stunned. My Mother was hospitalised, a nervous breakdown they said. And the rest of us sibs were sent to the Adelaide Hills for three months. We were not to talk of Jamie again. And until we were adults it was like he never existed,
Some people think tragedy young makes you " strong " or resilient but I am here to tell you, it doesn't. Pain is pain. It matters not what has gone before.
But finding out my childhood was less than idyllic( as I liked to believe ) was a revelation for me. I had been letting people walk all over me and it was about to stop. They all had stories of rotten childhoods and I tried to make it up to them not realising they were simply " damaged goods" as was I. So I put up with nasty tempers, abuse of every kind. Thinking, wrongly that with enough love and care somehow they would be healed.
Most of them were just spoiled arrogant bastards that had sisters, who they resented and lashed out at, who should have known better and been beaten up themselves to teach them a lesson. My brother did grab hold of one individual and whispered into his ear he would hurt him if he ever hurt me again. He told me years later and I felt so embarrassed I couldn't handle it myself. But I did whack him a good one myself one day when he was drunk and smashing windows. I grabbed a stainless steel vacuum pole ( my daughter always said, " keep your weapons near the door " ) and nearly took his head off with it.
He ran and I rang the jacks and took out an I V O on him. We are now the best of friends, ten years on and ironically he said he would never marry or have kids. But all his Super would go to me unless I remarried. And guess who married ? He did, no kids, but. He loves to drink, being Irish and says he finds it hard enough just to be responsible for himself. I no longer drink, taking a vow four years ago and I have never broken it. More than anything I just don't like the taste. My parents were both tee total lees so it's not hard.
So Enter Sandman is ironic for me as I am an insomniac of the worst kind. I literally have to be knocked out to sleep. I take an antihistamine at night and usually that does the trick. I have it down to a pretty good routine now, my entry to Sandman Land. Stay awake until 12 at least and four hours after I have taken the antihistamine it will start to take effect. Beat the crap out of my comfy pillow until I eventually end up on my stomach and rub my toes on the end of the bed. Sandman Enters at last. Up again, wide awake at 5 am, never varies, and stagger from bed holding my head and groaning.
When I first heard Enter Sandman I thought it was some kind of satanic music emanating from my daughters rebellious boyfriends room. Along with the clouds of smoke coming out of the open doorway the music almost had a form and shape, a dark missile of heavy metal languorously drifting into the thin cold air of the rest of the house.
He was to be beaten there, the rebellious boyfriend, by older druggies he owed money to. He had to jump out one of the closed glass windows to escape them and ran to a neighbours for help. We all shrieked in horror when we saw him, well not me, the girls did. He looked like the elephant man, not one bit of his face not swollen or marked. I just looked at him exhausted.
I had already taken in my daughter after she left him, she vomited on arrival, four little boys in tow, aged 10,5, 3 and two. I worked full time at Springvalley then and had bought a house in Springfield Court, Noble Park North. A cute cottage style house, my first buy on my own after a crappy divorce. ( All divorces are crappy ) I have yet to see a decent one yet, so much emotion and hurt. Someone once said divorce is like going a car crash every day for at least two years.
The Chinese believe a divorce consists of a thousand silken strings breaking. And as each string breaks there is hurt. The dreams and plans you had for the future, the kids weddings, the solo Christmases, the interminable first year of anniversaries, the Unknown, the selling of the house. New relationships, will they work ? Mostly no, and that second break makes you fell like the worst failure ever.
I would never go through a marriage again simply because I could not go through another divorce.
I have lived with men but never ever thought the relationship would last as the statistics for a second time breakup are higher than the 50/50 statistic of divorce for the first. About 75%. That's a shocking statistic. And they say it comes from the fact you see the early warning sounds of disaster sooner from experience. Until you learn. I had to have counselling three times before I finally realised I felt sorrier for others than I did myself.
I liked to " save" people. A Joan Of Arc trait, that did me absolutely no good. The people involved didn't want to be saved and anxiety made me controlling. I like to think I am a lot healthier now, emotionally, mentally and physically but who knows ? I am probably still the over anxious worrying little nerd I always was with nails bitten to the quick.
I used to make allowances for others as I wrongly thought I had a fabulous childhood. The last counsellor ( who was unbelievably my first psych also, after Lauren died ) told me I may have felt loved and cared for in a big family and kind parents but I lost a brother at 5, my Mother was mentally ill after the Second World War and we moved all the time. I went to 17 different schools and my older Sister, Jackie would have to take me weeping and wailing to nursery school and primary school. Especially if I was late or it was my first day.
Funnily enough once there I would excel at the work. It came easily to me. I could read and write before I went to school and was put up a year in Prep at Port Augusta. My brother , Jamie was killed the following year along with his best friend in a terrible tragedy. The town stunned. My Mother was hospitalised, a nervous breakdown they said. And the rest of us sibs were sent to the Adelaide Hills for three months. We were not to talk of Jamie again. And until we were adults it was like he never existed,
Some people think tragedy young makes you " strong " or resilient but I am here to tell you, it doesn't. Pain is pain. It matters not what has gone before.
But finding out my childhood was less than idyllic( as I liked to believe ) was a revelation for me. I had been letting people walk all over me and it was about to stop. They all had stories of rotten childhoods and I tried to make it up to them not realising they were simply " damaged goods" as was I. So I put up with nasty tempers, abuse of every kind. Thinking, wrongly that with enough love and care somehow they would be healed.
Most of them were just spoiled arrogant bastards that had sisters, who they resented and lashed out at, who should have known better and been beaten up themselves to teach them a lesson. My brother did grab hold of one individual and whispered into his ear he would hurt him if he ever hurt me again. He told me years later and I felt so embarrassed I couldn't handle it myself. But I did whack him a good one myself one day when he was drunk and smashing windows. I grabbed a stainless steel vacuum pole ( my daughter always said, " keep your weapons near the door " ) and nearly took his head off with it.
He ran and I rang the jacks and took out an I V O on him. We are now the best of friends, ten years on and ironically he said he would never marry or have kids. But all his Super would go to me unless I remarried. And guess who married ? He did, no kids, but. He loves to drink, being Irish and says he finds it hard enough just to be responsible for himself. I no longer drink, taking a vow four years ago and I have never broken it. More than anything I just don't like the taste. My parents were both tee total lees so it's not hard.
So Enter Sandman is ironic for me as I am an insomniac of the worst kind. I literally have to be knocked out to sleep. I take an antihistamine at night and usually that does the trick. I have it down to a pretty good routine now, my entry to Sandman Land. Stay awake until 12 at least and four hours after I have taken the antihistamine it will start to take effect. Beat the crap out of my comfy pillow until I eventually end up on my stomach and rub my toes on the end of the bed. Sandman Enters at last. Up again, wide awake at 5 am, never varies, and stagger from bed holding my head and groaning.
