tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33579237.post5910353829427660127..comments2024-01-30T21:45:11.254+11:00Comments on Jabberwocky: When the bee stingsArielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17570339715916432947noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33579237.post-7802385159730414692008-12-16T17:27:00.000+11:002008-12-16T17:27:00.000+11:00Kirsty, thanks for your thoughtful and interesting...Kirsty, thanks for your thoughtful and interesting comment. Yes, I imageine that would be especially frustrating for all those poor war veterans. It's a real issue there I think - partly for legal/liability reasons, I suspect.<BR/><BR/>Kath, that's a story to well and truly beat mine. Awful. Starting to think I got off quite lightly ...<BR/><BR/>Helen, it's nice to be back! Two blogmeets ... you'll have to absolutely come to the next one.Arielhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17570339715916432947noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33579237.post-69700596338716432502008-12-14T21:15:00.000+11:002008-12-14T21:15:00.000+11:00Oh it's so good to see you blogging again Ariel! H...Oh it's so good to see you blogging again Ariel! Have now missed TWO blogmeets in a row. Life is cruel. (But yes, Typhoid would be worse.)Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33579237.post-31627968570636764652008-12-11T14:38:00.000+11:002008-12-11T14:38:00.000+11:00Welcome back to the blogworld, Ariel. Your chats ...Welcome back to the blogworld, Ariel. Your chats with F in the dodgy hotel restaurant resonate with the ones I have with my little S.<BR/><BR/>And bee stings? They frickin' hurt - even more so as an adult because we only get them every ten years or so compared to every day as kids. I once got stung in Darwin on my middle finger as I was trying to sweep a drowning bee out of the pool. I was stung for my efforts and ended up having an arm the size of a leg of ham and the worst possible finger in the world swollen, extended upwards and throbbing red in a permanent 'get fucked' motion. I needed two days off from my sensible Ministerial job because I couldn't type and wasn't exactly looking presentable to disgruntled managers and members of the public!Kath Locketthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09677312773827236567noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33579237.post-14658683974081033512008-12-11T13:54:00.000+11:002008-12-11T13:54:00.000+11:00Hi Ariel, I really enjoyed your post, especially t...Hi Ariel, I really enjoyed your post, especially the comments about medication etc. It's the attitude that has you so riled that was the inspiration for my PhD thesis. I have honestly read the most offensive things by academics about therapy culture and the 'creation' of a 'syndrome for everything' and it's interesting to see you counter that with the scenario of saying the same things to someone's actual face. I've always maintained that I'd like to see one particular author espouse his dismissals to a room full of returned service men and women who are quite normally traumatised by war. His work is simply cruel, and as you say an utter denial of experience. I have read a bit of medical history in my research and believe me there is no one who struggles more with 'knowledge' about such things than the psychiatric profession. The other thing I read was about the advent of new discoveries in drugs where patients whose lives had previously been written off, who were confined to mental institutions, whose families had moved on etc, being able to get up and walk away from institutional life and resume 'normal' existence, ie having relationships, being employed, all because of the new medications. I can full understand the need to say a hearty 'f*ck you!' to those who espouse uninformed opinions about such things.Kirstyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14035268080440921379noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33579237.post-65789271991194625792008-12-11T10:58:00.000+11:002008-12-11T10:58:00.000+11:00That was a really interesting perspective, frogdan...That was a really interesting perspective, frogdancer, thanks. And heartening to know that these things improve by high school. Sounds like your kids were much more extreme than B, though I guess he probably has his moments that I haven't seen.<BR/><BR/>I guess the real issue that we were talking about was when people think they are being comforting by denying the existence of something you cope with every day, something that puts up obstacles in your life. It's so disrespectful and invalidating of your experience. And I don't understand why anyone could imagine it's a useful - or even in any way a polite - thing to say.<BR/><BR/>I can understand the general dismissal and cynicism, but the specific dismissal of someone who is standing right in front of you is different.Arielhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17570339715916432947noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33579237.post-54651259846680978432008-12-11T07:07:00.000+11:002008-12-11T07:07:00.000+11:00I'm a mother of four boys and I'm also a secondary...I'm a mother of four boys and I'm also a secondary teacher. A good one. The kids love me and I never have any troubles controlling classes, even though they're all bigger than me.<BR/><BR/>I used to take all of the 'syndrome' things with kids with a grain of salt... until I did 18 months CRT (emergency teaching) in primary schools when my youngest started school. That was an eye-opener.<BR/><BR/>The behaviour of some of those kids was incredible. I'd be aghast, and other teachers would come up to me and say, "You're doing a fantastic job with him, he must really like you because he hasn't run away all morning..." <BR/><BR/>It's not bad parenting (or bad teaching, for that matter!!!) but for most of us who never really get to see it on a day to day level it all seems a little unreal. I used to go home and hug my boys and thank god that I didn't have to deal with behaviour like that all day every day. <BR/><BR/>In secondary school it's not so much of an issue. By then medications have been sorted out, kids are maturing and they're finding it much easier to cope with the demands of a classroom. They're also able to specialise their courses, so they are able to pick the subjects that interest them a lot more. Why am I writing thsi? I don't know. You just struck a chord, I guess.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33579237.post-3172199648712687552008-12-10T20:23:00.000+11:002008-12-10T20:23:00.000+11:00Oh dear ... I really didn't realise how long that ...Oh dear ... I really didn't realise how long that was, having typed it straight into Blogger. (No word counts.) Sorry!<BR/><BR/>It was a great afternoon - thanks so much for the invite. And yes, I was completely distracted. I think the alcohol helped, too.Arielhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17570339715916432947noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33579237.post-82107383110943311032008-12-10T19:19:00.000+11:002008-12-10T19:19:00.000+11:00OOH! OW!Don't you go lying in any cowslip bells no...OOH! OW!<BR/>Don't you go lying in any cowslip bells now.<BR/><BR/>That was a fun afternoon, I hope we distracted you some!genevievehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02895689949182365454noreply@blogger.com