Great Wealth

Well said… brilliant perspective 😊

R Munro

“…and the Great Fog … lifted!”

Morgan Freeman’s voice narrating “Cosmic Voyage”? Actually, perhaps that too, but for me it’s the result of my head responding to the cessation of taking medication for depression.

So I’m back to being depressed? Actually yes and no. During my medicated period, I researched alternative methods of dealing with depression, and one technique I came across time and again was “write”. During deep bouts, nothing could be further from what I wanted to do, and yet even scratching out a creative sentence could have enormous positive effects.

The thing preventing me from writing however was the medication. My imagination was nowhere to be found. I could write factual sentences. I could describe real things around me and in me, but when it came to soaring off on fanciful tangents, hammering out metaphors and similes on my anvil of creativity or even dreaming up…

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My Lack of Control

Wow. I went to start today’s post and, thanks to my lack of control, instead of clicking on the “Write” a new post button on my Surface Pro, I hit the bell button. Wow. There’s a whole new part to blogging I never knew existed. The tech world certainly moved on during my lengthy hospital stay after my stroke. I’m a babe testing the tech world again.

I accidentally press the wrong thing all the time. Just today, I entered a reminder in my iPad calendar, then before I could add it -poof. It was gone. I touched another part of the screen. Bye-bye work. I fully entered my reminder three times and three times it vanished before I saved it. Fourth time is the charm.

I am like a child again. The fear at pressing an unknown key is gone. Unintentionally, I discover new things all the time. There is nothing I can do so why fret?

Like when I delete and don’t mean it.

One of the intentional balls-up I did over the weekend was to empty the trash on my book. Everything disappeared. Only a white screen stared back at me. My heart stopped. OM-freaking-G! What had I done? After a panicked message to my husband – I peered closer. A word search was turned on (I use Scrivener) and as soon as I turned it off – happy days – my book reappeared! Phew! 80,000 words back in view. Oh what a feeling!

After deleting my book for real in April, I don’t know if I’d recover a second time.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!


NDIS Part 3

Finally, I met with the NDIS. I have a Plan and I must say I’m pleasantly surprised so far. My skepticism is overthrown – so it seems. I am in early days but I hope the freedom I’ve experienced in the past week continues. I am ecstatic, I can drink in the afternoon and someone is here to take me to the toilet. This means Shane and I can go to bed at 11:30pm instead of 1am. Before I simply didn’t drink from 2pm to 7pm.

Having someone around in the afternoon also allows me to spend time on speech therapy or using my cycle (just for feet, I wheel up to it). Already I feel the difference – I knew I needed to do more. I could never do anything alone but I can now because someone is there to help me. I’m not disappointed with NDIS but disappointed it took so long to start. I’m glad the Government finally has started to support the disabled. After all, any one of us (but for the grace of God) can become disabled in the blur of a moment.

Christmas Writing Challenge

This is my bizarre and fantastical entry in our Christmas Writing Challenge. Excuse language.

Title: Disbelief

No! No, no. Not yet! Don’t do it. I’m not ready. Time. Stay where you are. Pretty please.

The clock flicked to 1 December.

Dammit! He shook his head. This time of year came around way too fast. Time to get to work and, boy, did he have his work cut out for him. Yes, throughout the year he had spun his web of truths, hopefully turning some people into Disbelievers, but December was his peak time. There were fake Santas’ to infiltrate into shopping centres across the world, the bullies in schools to persuade and the cheap, fake Santa suits to hand out to any Joe Blow on the street.

His war against that fake guy was on full blast this year.

Rumours abounded, that dick who called himself “Santa” planned to use magic. Fuck, how could he compete against magic? Of all things… freaking magic?

He’d have to up the ante this year, but how?

His mind came up blank.

Then, a semi-idea formed. Maybe the trick was to cast a light on Jesus and take the spotlight away from the red guy? After all, wasn’t Christmas about the birth of Christ anyway? Not the guy in the red suit?

That’s what he’d do. Hopefully it was enough, and it was the truth.

He’d approach popular churches like Hillsong or some such other church. They’d help. A message of Christ’s birth over Santa would surely make thousands if not millions flock to his cause. The more disbelief he spread then the satisfaction of his success could only bleed around him.

The Lord of Disbelief, also known as the Bringer of Truth, slammed his fist into his desk, making pens, phone and computer jolt. Those rumours better be just that … rumours. If the rumours dared truth, the red guy intended to infuse every tree bauble in the world with belief. The moment anyone touched a tree bauble they’d believe in Santa. All the year’s work in schools across the world, all his Instagram and Snap Chat, insinuating Santa a fake, would be for naught.

His phone beeped. He picked it up, glanced at it and threw it on the table. The war had started already. Damn PNP Santa Claus app! The app claimed to send a message from the big guy and that merely encouraged belief. Now they offered it in six new languages. Curse the red guy for thinking of that one.

He rethought his plan of action and realised he couldn’t chance the truth of the rumour. Drastic action was necessary and he hoped he could pull it off. Fingers flew over his keyboard. First, letters to churches (a backup) then a special letter to North Korea. They’d help.


Three weeks later and today was the day. The Lord of Disbelief won today. No more Christmas could exist if the North Pole was bombed. Could it? And North Korea agreed today was the day. The strong reminder of the birth of Jesus underlined the Western world and was icing – delectable icing – on the cake.

He stared at the computer screen watching for the news to break. He bit his nails to the quick. Hours passed. His tea went cold, undrunk. Nothing. He didn’t understand? Did he have the day wrong?

His mobile phone rang. He stared at it. No. Don’t let it be. How could it be? He picked up the phone.

A Korean voice softly spoke, “We sorry, we tried. We have the right coordinates. We sorry. Bomb flied true but exploded above target.”

He hung up. Dejected.

What was disbelief when pitted against the magic of belief? At least the reminder of Christ survived. He gave up. Belief won. That fucking red guy won. Curse him.