Yes that is right. You don't have to rub your eyes in disbelief. It is true. It may come as a surprise to you. It has been going for some time now. Off and on for the past year but consistently daily for the past two months. I am having an affair with words. lol had you all going hey? No seriously though I have always loved words.
Words are so powerful. They can cut you and wound you and leave scars more permanent then any physical marks. They can uplift you, move you to tears, bring joy to your heart and inspire you. Words have so much power. It is a power I love to harness. As well as the written word, I also love the spoken word.
Many years ago, gosh, it really is many, I was a member of an awesome Toastmasters club. For about four years I rubbed shoulders with some amazing people and also learned invaluable skills. I love public speaking now more then I loved it back then. Surprisingly, even through my illness (my depression) I feel as if I would still be capable of public speaking. I tend to stick to one topic these days though - autism awareness. When you are passionate about something you can move mountains.
When I leave hospital (no date yet), I plan to spread my wings and join our local Toastmasters club. Sacre bleu I hear all you Young Achievers out there whispering. I just don't think I have the energy to re-join my old club which I am proud to see is still running. I am now a wife, mother and a stay at home one at that. I think a nice suburban club will do me fine.
It will be hard to find other things for me to talk about...........lol no not really. I am sure I could just use some of my blog for reference material and if the meetings are like any of our Young Achiever ones there are sometimes theme nights etc. I look forward to attending the meetings and becoming a member. Funny, I am more comfortable with public speaking then one on one and more intimate conversations these days. I guess because I have really been fighting for my life I find small talk, gossip etc such a waste of energy.
If I was asked what my dream was at this moment?
I would tell you this. My dream is to turn this blog into a book. A book about a family. A family who has an undiagnosed Aspergers' Dad, a Mum who fights chronic depression, a son who is autistic and a daughter who has an anxiety disorder. I would write about Clay's journey, how poorly Australia treats their carers and how many carers end up with depression. The day I read in the paper that Julia Gillard spent thousands in fact I think it was hundreds of thousands on flying refugee families to Sydney for the funerals of their drowned family members was a day I became very angry about the irresponsible spending of our tax payers money. I am not saying that the families should not have been there. But, seriously why not hold the funerals on Christmas Island where the families are biding their time awaiting an outcome on their future. Please don't see this as a rant about refugees and Australian migration policy. It most certainly isn't. That one is far too meaty a topic for me to chew and spit out.
Did you know, I wrote to our local member, our Federal treasurer and a few other Pollies. I asked them could they consider tweaking the legislation that provides funding to new home buyers and the first home buyers grant. I asked them to allow families like ours who have sold their home to be eligible for the grant. Families who have sold their home to fund therapies for their disabled child or to fund the treatment for a terminally ill family member. Afterall, we have saved the taxpayers of the future potentially millions of dollars.
The reply, which was both condescending and patronising was a waste of paper and another waste of tax payers money to post the damn thing.
Now back to my dream. In this dream, my book would become a battle cry for carers. It would be held up in rallies. It would help change the way Australia treats its' carers and its' disabled. I would have to go on a tour of the world speaking about how this powerful book has brought such revolutionary change. I would sit on Oprah's couch (I think she has a new one since Tom Cruise jumped on it) and answer her questions. And when she asked me what was my inspiration I would tell her this. My anger was my inspiration. My anger fuelled this writing. It helped me find the right words. It helped me bring about change. And it helped me help myself. She would of course, wipe tears from her eyes and hold my hand and thank me for being so outspoken and angry. I would then of course gracefully bow out and continue on my way.
Now back to reality. I seriously don't think I could be eloquent sitting on a couch with Oprah but who knows. As for the book, it is a possibility. Will it help bring about change. Who knows. When John Howard was Prime Minister I wished with all my heart he would become a Grandfather to an autistic child. Not to hurt him or his family but to help ours and the thousands like us.
Now about this affair. I don't see it ending any time soon. I think my husband will be quite understanding actually. In fact, he probably already knows about it.
Nearly time, for earth hour. I can't make the hospital switch off the lights but I can turn mine off.