Veronica Foale

I tell stories.

I Like…

I like to stop and watch humanity swirl past me, a rock in a river of flooding water. Catching glimpses of reality; the way light falls on her hair, a chubby ankle as a baby learns to walk, a smile for the stranger.

I like to watch and listen, silent against a wall, a small smile as I pick up bits of someone else’s life. A he said she said conversation, a teenager with angst, a mother at the end of her rope.

I like to live inside my head, holding imaginary conversations, wondering if this time, this sentence, will it be the branch that breaks the dam and leaves me head down, drowning in a sea of words – a beautiful thing.

I like to lay on my back in the grass in the warm sunshine, feeling the earth support me as I breathe in time with the world.

I like my imagination.

12 Comments by Veronica Foale  /  June 30, 2010  /  Posted in: Navelgazing

Falling apart

I fell apart, broken and sobbing while the clock ticked down, stopped and then nothing.

I looked around.

Is that it? Is this all?

And it was. The year of firsts finished, not with a bang or a crash, but with a fizzle. A slight smell of burning fills the air.

++

This time last year I was … I stop.

Fill in the gaps.

I was shocked, exhausted and broken. I was stressed and fucked up.

I was changed.

++

Some women buy shoes, some buy clothes, some buy chocolate and others buy nothing.

I buy books. I buy other worlds to lose myself in, fantasies and other people’s pain. I buy lives and seep into them as I leave myself behind.

It’s a coping mechanism, but there are worse ones to have.

++

They adjust my painkillers and prescribe me something to help me sleep. I spend three days stoned before deciding to halve my dosage tomorrow and see how I feel. I can put up with a little pain in order to have this fog lift, to make my hands remember how to type. I’m swimming through treacle and somewhere out there, the colours are brighter and the world is sharp. But not here. Here there is fog and headspins and drugs.

Tomorrow will be better. Being stoned is a nice way to leave the pain behind and swim through unthinking, but it’s not conducive to thinking or writing or parenting. I want my clear head back – I want myself back.

I tell myself that there is always a learning curve involved in new meds and new doses, but I still feel ashamed of how I feel.

I didn’t mean to do this to myself.

That’s what they all say.

Keep repeating it. Tomorrow will be better.

++

My bookshelves fill up and I wonder how many more books I can buy before we’ve got no room for them.

Lots I hope.

16 Comments by Veronica Foale  /  June 26, 2010  /  Posted in: Me

Am Ow-Side!

I didn’t want to go outside when my son stood wailing at the baby gate, crying for ‘ow-side!’ I wanted to stay inside and hibernate, curling up with my book and a hot drink. I didn’t want to have to do anything, just be alone inside my head.

Instead, I took him outside to join his sister in running around the paddocks.

And the look on his face was worth it as I opened the front door and he, newly clad in bright blue gumboots, clomped out to join his father.

It was worth it when we grabbed some wheat and fed the chooks and ducks, together.

It was worth it, to hear him calling duck-duck-duck-duck as he tried to chase them a little.

It was worth it.

He spent the first 10 minutes we were outside happily exclaiming ‘am ow-side! am ow-side!’

He chased a duck and paddled in the water. He stomped through a mud puddle and ran around the tyre arena. He helped to check for eggs and chased his sister.

And finally, he asked to be picked up and we came inside, to eat lunch and nap.

It was worth braving the cold and bitter wind. It was worth not getting to write what I was going to write. It was worth not curling up with a book.

It was worth all that, just to see his face light up as he called ‘Am ow-side!’ to me every few steps through the grass.

Seems I’m not the only one who hates the indoor isolation of winter.

And we’ll be going ow-side more often.

7 Comments by Veronica Foale  /  June 23, 2010  /  Posted in: Children, Family, Life

Clocks ticking

When I wake up, colour has disappeared. A phone ringing cuts through my sleep, but being only my mobile, I ignore it. You can do things like that when the world is frozen and your phone takes messages. Slowly my children surface and I throw open the curtains to reveal a world frozen, icy white.

No colour for me. Not today.

It’s the kind of weather that seeps into your bones and sinks fingers into your soul.

Frozen pipes herald the middle of winter, when you turn the tap and nothing but icy air appears.

Even as I warm up and the world defrosts, I feel frozen inside.

***

It’s like a clock ticking.

tick

tock

tick

tock

Twelve months ago she was alive still.

Twelve months ago we had nine days left. We didn’t see the countdown hanging over our heads, hiding just out of sight. We didn’t see it then, but I see it now.

***

I sink myself into my archives from June last year.

I survived that.

How did I survive that?

My body takes over and leaves me moving, one step at a time.

Don’t think, don’t count, don’t look at the calendar. Turn the music off, pull your eyes away from there. Don’t listen, don’t feel, don’t think about it. Keep your eyes focused, smile, laugh, your mind can’t go where you don’t send it. Be matter of fact, keep your practicalities. We need more sugar, who spilled the milk, where did that nappy go? What’s for dinner, who’s peeling potatoes, can I have a hand? Amy get down, Isaac shush, Mummy needs a moment. Don’t think, don’t look, don’t make any sudden movements.

We can do this.

One step at a time.

tick

tock

tick

tock

One step. And then another.

We’re moving closer and I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

***

What was I doing twelve months ago?

You were surviving.

How?

I don’t know.

***

Life is hard.

No wait, scratch that.

Living is hard.

But it’s also beautiful.

12 Comments by Veronica Foale  /  June 15, 2010  /  Posted in: Life, Me, Navelgazing

This June

This June,

I would like to come out the other side intact.

I would like to manage to stave off my broken-ness.

I would like to come through whole and okay.

Because,

last June

I didn’t.

And I can’t fathom doing that again.

Last June,

I ended up broken

and tired

and sad.

Last June,

was like being hit by a train

repeatedly.

And some things haven’t healed,

and some people haven’t been forgiven.

And they won’t.

Because

wow

that was low.

and I’m broken,

because I can’t scream the words at you I want to

and because I can’t talk about it any more.

So this June,

I want to come through whole.

I don’t want to feel kicked when I am down,

or strung tightly like a bow string,

choking on what I want to say,

but am too polite to.

This June,

I want to be okay.

And I want to tell you,

to go fuck yourself.

You’re not a nice human being.

And it’s your fault I can’t cry and it’s your fault I can’t talk anymore.

Because I want to tell you.

And I can’t,

because you don’t need to hear it.

Because being kicked when you’re down isn’t fun.

And aren’t you glad I’m not like you.

14 Comments by Veronica Foale  /  June 6, 2010  /  Posted in: Me
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All writing Copyright to Veronica Foale 2009-2010