Showing posts with label asshats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label asshats. Show all posts

Tuesday, 25 November 2014

Dear Mr Latham

Dear Mr Latham,

I only knew of you as 'second best' to our past Prime Minister, John Howard. I have no interest in politics - I'm pretty blind to the happenings in Parliament - and I like it that way. You caught my eye a few years back when you weren't afraid of showing your inner bitch with fellow politicians, calling them names and acting all gangsta-like with Mr Howard. You had me back then at 'arselicker' and calling them 'a conga line of suckholes'. You won my vote.

But then you had to go firing off your ignorant, sexist and uneducated mouth and belittle the women of Australia (sorry, no - not just Australia - the world) with your malignant and antiquated comments about mothers with a mental illness. What an awesome role model you must be to your sons.

I didn't choose to have depression, or anxiety, or psychosis. I haven't made it up to avoid the responsibilities of motherhood. Before having my first child nearly 15 years ago, the signs were there. Circumstances, combined with the chemical imbalance in my brain, led to my illness. I didn't ask for this. I didn't give myself a mental illness or three for the fun of it. Or for the attention. Or for the periodical feelings that make me question my need to breathe.

Did you choose to become a prick, Mr Latham, or did it just come naturally? Maybe it came to you as naturally as motherhood should come to every woman? There's yet to be a medication to treat being a bastard. I know, I checked. However, antidepressants might help you. How about some anti-psychotic medications to relieve you of your sense of grandeur and misogyny?

Your article (which I will call Mark's Guide to Raising Women In The 1950s: A Dickhead's Perspective) must make your mum proud. You suggest that women who need 'neurological assistance' in order to raise children is sad. You suggest that women 'like this' should not have children, and that these children will suffer knowing they were the reason behind their mother's 'pill-popping'. I know I do not and will not stand alone when I say to you that my 'pill-popping' bad habit is the reason why my children still have a mother today.

I have to admit Mr Latham, that I was doing really well before reading your article. I have learned to manage my illness well after 14 years, to know the warning signs, to put in place strategies I have worked hard at to cope with the everyday demands of being a stay at home mum of five kids with a husband who works very long hours. But today, I took your words to heart. You made me feel sick and selfish and guilty for wanting to have children even though I knew I wasn't well. You made me question whether I should return to the workplace. You made me feel wrong for wanting some time away from my children for me. And you are actually right about one of the comments you made - I did choose to have my children. I knew I may have difficult times ahead raising them with this illness, just like thousands of others with their own challenging medical (non-mental) issues. 

I'm damn proud of my children. Damn proud of myself for staying at home and raising them the best I can. And I'll be damn proud of them when they grow up better off for having been taught that mental illness should not be feared nor condemned. That everyone has a story. That with society's support and less people like you in the public eye spewing your offensive and damaging opinions, more people like me will find their voice to shout from the rooftops "I'm crazy and perfectly normal!"

Mr Latham, I'm not angered by reading your comments. I'm disheartened and sad. It's not us mums with mental illnesses who should feel ashamed, but you.

Yours in craziness,

Cut My Milk


Tuesday, 26 March 2013

The A to Z of Lisa


is for Awesome, my word of the year. 
It's also for Asshats who I'm always near. 
is for Baby, asleep like a log.
For me, time for wine and a good chance to blog.
is for Childcare. Hooray for Monday!
The twins will play there for a part of the day.
D  is for Daddy. Can you please come home soon?
The darlings are feral. Must be that damn moon.
E  is for Energy, something I've not.
Need more time in the day to clean after my lot.
is for fighting. That's all the kids do.
Five feral children - we'd planned for just two.
G  is for Good Grief, God Lord and Good God.
Words that escape me as I lose my wad.
H  is for Happy. For the most part it is.
It's a hectic and hellish and heavenly shiz.
is for Ignore. Pick my battles I try.
That's crap and you know it. I rant and I cry.
J  is for Jam - man, that shit is sticky.
It's stuck in Lil's hair, now it's matted and icky.
K  is for Kalm, if you spell it with K.
But you don't and that sucks so move on I say.
L  is for Love. Despite what you think,
My kids - I do love them - they don't always stink.
M  is for Mummy, Mum, Muuuuuum, Mama, Mother.
They shout it from one end of the house to the other.
N  is for Nappies. I'm sick of this shit. 
So for two out of three kids the toilet they'll sit.
O  is for Organised - something I need.
My mind is all busy, it needs to be freed.
is for Paint - what I have on my wall.
Along with the scribble, the boogers and all. 
Q  is for Quiet and the sleep that I crave.
No questions, no quarrels, the kids will behave.
R  is for Rhyme. I'm not a good poet.
I'm not a good writer. And this doesn't rhyme.
S  is for Swearing. I do it too much.
My kids speak like wharfies - they copy me such.
T  is for Tea. Never know what to cook
To make everyone happy and to not fucking sook. 
 U  is for Uni. I'll finish one day.
A change in career is headed my way.
V  is for Vego. My son's one of those.
If I serve him meat, he'll just turn up his nose.
W  is for Weight. It's a struggle for me.
I'm losing a bit, not enough yet to see.
X  is for X Rays. A lot we've had lately.
Not just our bodies, our wallets hurt greatly.
Y  is for Yawn. It's sleep that I need.
I'm constantly buggered from rearing my breed.
Z   is for Zoo. It's the place I call home.
I love it. I hate it. But I'll never roam.

The A to Z of Lisa, linking up with Deb and all the other amazing bloggettes at Home Life Simplified's Listmania extravaganza. Go have a look!

Leave me a message, please!!! It's so lonely here by myself.