Why are break ups often so mean?

The son of my work friend has been breaking up with his girlfriend on and off over a period of months. They try then they fail, try and fail and try again. This week they’ve failed miserably (or maybe I should say she has). Not only have they broken up for good but now the girlfriend has cleared out their mutual flat and left him with diddly squat.

“Not even a plate to eat dinner on,” he said to his mum.

Why do some women do this? How can they be so mean to someone they have loved?

Come on, it’s not even her property so how does she think she has the right to take it? What does she need with a set of men’s golf clubs, other than to hock them at Cash Converters and brag about it on Facebook?

That is, in fact, what this stupid young woman is doing – bragging on Facebook.

Honestly, she should be shamed on Facebook. Any friends reading her rants should put her in her place. Tell her to give him back his own property, grow up and be civil.

The most ridiculous thing is that she has taken out an AVO on this poor unsuspecting fella. There’s no cause for this other than it allows her to bombard his mother with mean emails, upset his whole family, take his rights away – and get away with it.

The police were called to the empty apartment and told the young man that it was a civil matter and they could not do anything. Obviously she has stolen his property but the law sees it otherwise.

My main point is - why would she be so mean? The young man in question is only 22 so he hasn’t amassed a great deal of personal possession so to be left with nothing is depressing. It’s even inhumane.

He recently said to his mum, “There’s no point in going on. There’s no point in living.”

I’m a mum and I know those are word you never want to hear from one of your children. To say a cold shiver went up my spine is an understatement, more like an ice pick.

Did this Young-Miss-Mean consider that by hurting her ex-lover she is hurting everyone who cares for him? This mother had also befriended YMM and brought her warmly into her family fold. Nice thanks that is.

Obviously YMM is vengeful (or a plain bitch) but she has no reason to be. This is a nice well-brought-up young man who adored her and he is yet to be mean back. Maybe it’s not in his nature.

He thought that they would divide their mutually accrued possessions in a reasonable manner. He would pack his footy tropies, clothes and the golf clubs and move out amicably. He hoped that one day when they bumped into each other in the street it wouldn’t be awkward it would be like greeting an old friend.

Poor fella there’s more chance of her greeting him in the street with her car engine running ready for a hit-and-run. Rage is fuelling her but how did this rage replace what was so recently rose-coloured love?

I guess she’s the only one that knows this. Maybe she’s watched too many adverts where upset women smash brand-new-red sports cars or hurtle their ex's possessions out a third-floor window. Possibly she just wasn’t very nice to start with and the young man was yet to take off his own rose-coloured glasses.

Final word – karma.

YMM take note that it will one day bite you on the bum.

Why do I cry when I'm proud?

I blubbered this morning sitting in my car at a shopping centre carpark (tragic huh?). Don't worry I didn't faint again. I cried not because I was sad but because I was happy. Bittersweet happiness though, because it may mean my apron strings are being cut.
I was on the phone to my eighteen-year-old son, Joel. He was in Darwin trying out for the Northern Territory Fire and Rescue Service. He'd just rung to say he passed the physical exam. This is no easy feat. In 35 degree heat he had to kit up in full heavy fire gear and lug hoses and other weights (such as a dummy) around an obstacle course and do it under a set time.
I had no doubt that he could do it, after all he is a personal trainer, rugby league player and very fit. So why did I cry? I think it was the sound of his voice. It's not just any voice. It's my son's and he's thousands of kilometres away all by himself.
That deep voice used to be soft and sweet when he was a little boy (accept for when he was yelling at his little brother but hey let's forgive that). I'd know his voice anywhere. It's rich caring tone. It's unique Joel texture.
Anyway back to his phone call. He was so excited and the experience had been priceless. I could imagine him grinning broadly as he spoke. I knew his dark blue eyes would be crinkled and bright. I was relieved that he'd already made friends and again not really surprised. His tone conveyed his admiration of the course trainer (ex-army personal trainer) and he was obviously proud of himself for what he had accomplished. So I kept the tears at bay as I listened to his enthusiasm.
I said, "I'm so proud of you, Joel. I knew you could do it." My voice didn't even waver.
"Thanks, Mum," he said in his usual humble way.
We said our good byes and I clicked shut my phone, then I cried. They were only little tears and not for long. They were lovely tears really. They were proud tears that kinda made me feel good.
Funny how tears do that sometimes.
Joel was following a dream to be a firefighter. Even if it means moving interstate he'll take any position offered. He could be in Humpty Doo or Alice Springs and that's a long way from me and his family and friends. I'd miss him but on the upside it's his dream and his life.
He reminds me again and again how setting goals helps you to achieve them. So I'm setting a goal for myself. Stop procrastinating about sending 'Finding Tarzan' to more publishers. Get it published. Wish me luck.
Oh, and if your kids are following their dreams away from you I suggest that you set them free. Yes that old saying rings true. Not only will they be stronger for it so will you. That's not to say you won't shed a few tears on the way either.