Fake Spring in Melbourne

Published November 1, 2026 by helentastic67

Melbourne each year has this very strange end to winter and start to spring. It’s cold, cold. People are very loudly done with winter. Then we get a warmish day. Sometimes, even two in a row and Melbournians rejoice. Then it’s over and it feels like winter again and people will act like it’s the start of winter all over again.

Have you heard of the babies that throw their toys out of their cots? It’s almost like that. People just need to take some more Vitamin D, seriously. Melbourne still has lots to see and do even in the colder months. I mean, the fake spring gets me every year and I’ve called Melbourne home since 1992. With the exception of two years around 2000. Even fake spring makes me wish winter was longer because I love to go to the city. Get to the NGV one more time. Even just wearing my long black merino wool jacket longer. But I’m not throwing any toys anywhere. A lot of people in their socials post about fun things to do in the city at night. Down hidden laneways, a line of people queueing up for “something” food, a bar, something. I don’t really go out in the evenings aside from during the Melbourne International Comedy Festival season, as I am half blind and struggle to see in the dark and people are often oblivious to my inability to see.

Then there’s the wardrobe as part of fake spring. A few weeks ago, when we had two decent spring days at the end of the week, I happened to be heading South-side for an event at the Palais in St. Kilda. I will blog about that. Just pace yourself. I don’t get Southside often these days. I lived in Prahran and South Yarra in my 20’s but didn’t get to St. Kilda often.

I have lived Northside for the last twenty years and I guess every area in a city like Melbourne will have a wardrobe, or a uniform. In Ackland Street I’ve seen younger women wearing what I describe as “not much”, whereas in Thornbury on the Northside fake spring brings out all the Millennials in their skinny black jeans and tight black T-shirts, even if it’s just for a day. Or all the way through summer. Skinny black jeans might be replaced by black shorts. Even I have resorted to black shorts on warmer days in the last ten years. My carers kept informing me I couldn’t possibly go out in my standard albeit thin black legging-type pants. But shorts, OMG! I don’t care about displaying my lily-white legs these days. They’re hair-free thanks to laser, but I refuse to conform and get tanned.

I hope this explains what Fake Spring is?

You Poor Thing

Published October 26, 2026 by helentastic67

You Poor Thing

I can’t tell how often over the years I’ve heard those words. This time it was last Thursday. I had been tramming home from my chiropractor’s appointment. My usual chiro has been away and I’ve been lucky to see another one I used to see thirteen years ago.

It was the first warm day of spring, I’ve a separate post to write to explain a weird thing in Melbourne called Fake Spring, hang in there for that. Meanwhile, it was the first day to wear shorts. Get out the Lilly white legs I sport. Short season means people will notice my calf-high AFO. (That’s my Ankle Foot Orthotic.) It and the Botox helps me lift my drop foot when I walk so I don’t trip over. People don’t seem to notice my cuff and collars on my left arm or my walking stick. They definitely won’t notice my Vision Australia badge stating “I have low vision”

So, “You poor thing” I get off the tram just past my home. I hold up my right arm to wave at the driver calling out a thank you. A man on his Harley stopped at the back of the tram. Elderly lady makes her comment. It’s usually delivered to me on warmer days. I lift a finger and point in the direction of my home. I’m nearly home I reassure her, with these words and continue. It’s just another fucking day really. Despite the tone this is not a pity post. It’s a Fuck You post.

I think my twice-yearly dose of CBF has set in hard. October is always crappy. It’s been four years since my father’s passing. I’m OK with this however, it’s the fracturing of my remaining family that sucks, I’ve been trying to make my dad proud. And considering I’ve been project managing several things right now that has not been easy. The wins have been few and far between and not nearly enough wins for the constant barraging of losses.

I got from fifty-three to fifty-four at the end of the month and it sucks every year. Oh, you’re still with me this is not a pity me post. Right now, I’m just trying to get through each day crossing off the items on the To-Do List. Next week, expect a more upbeat post despite the To-Do list not getting shorter. I just wish 2026 was over.

Let’s hope the upcoming deadlines passing will improve my mental state and in the New Year after catching up on blogging and the wrapping up of certain projects will allow some breathing space and future posts will context my current grumpy.

Oh, wait! Barrack Obama, yes that could be a thing. Yes please!

Comedy Season 2026 – Part 2

Published May 10, 2026 by helentastic67

Comedy Season Part 2

Comedy season starts this week and I think I see the first show of many on Sunday night. I’m exhausted before it even begins. Yet I’m still contemplating if I can score Urzila Carlson tickets with a plus one to go with. She appears at the Palais in St Kilda, which is across town from where I live on the Northside. I conveniently live on a tram route however, it’s one thing to do a tram into the city towards the end of the afternoon, and change to do another along Swanston Street, walk to Hamer Hall at the Arts Centre by 7pm, when the evening commuters don’t always consider to offer me a seat on a tram that I had to pull myself up steps to get on to as time was starting to be of the essence, i.e. Couldn’t risk waiting for the next accessible tram. But, going to St. Kilda on trams, I don’t think so. Getting stuck on the carpark that is Hoddle Street, Clifton Hill or Punt Road in general is a carpark in peak so might miss Ursula this year.

Do I need to come out as straight? Urzila is a larger than life, unapologetic Lesbian. Not suggesting there’s anything wrong with Lesbians. I’m a fan. However, I’m just stating. I’m NOT GAY, I’m just fussy. When will people get it? And I love comedy, need some shits and giggles in life.

I will likely get too busy to write about all the shows I get to so, will likely smash it all out together.

It’s generally a lot, where if I’m seeing a show in the evening, I can’t be doing adulting during the day, I need the right level of nothing during the day, the right amount of sustenance. Send the right amount of Boss coffee to get me there and home afterwards.

Ideally, a friend drives in, parks somewhere and meets me, helps me navigate my inbox in my email for the tickets I’ve saved and drives me home afterwards so I’m safe and can still manage to get out of my shoes, AFO and socks. There’s always still housekeeping to be done to wind down before sleep.

Project Managing

Published December 7, 2025 by helentastic67

Project Managing

Lately, I’ve cut back on my appointments like physio, hence the lack of motivation or time to blog. I am not looking forward to the grumpy chastising from my acupuncturist who I should be seeing weekly as he is free. He is a GP and covered by Medicare so I really should be getting my ass there. And I think I haven’t been since April or earlier, but while I’ve been skipping my physio/neurophysiology and a few others, my pain increases as does the discomfort. It’s all been because they are using my funding to do report writing. Yes, you heard correctly. I’ve had to prioritise reports over pain management because I’m going to review again with the NDIA! Because I’m running out of funds.

I’m currently on my third Support Coordinator, who is like a case manager. Except, mine has run out of funds to do her job. I’ve been nudging with emails most of this year for her to get reports to people that are doing things for me anyway. So, I think every year I do more and more of that role. I’ve finally got a new Gun of an OT.

I’m hoping now, just celebrating the one-year anniversary of being in my forever home, that I can have a mobility scooter and somewhere safe and secure to keep it and charge it. And the NDIS funding in which to make that all happen and finally, not me to project manage all of that to make it happen. Even getting the Owner Corp and the board of residents, on board to allow these things to happen is a hair-pulling exercise as my existing shed is too tall and gets in the way of the sprinkler system.

I think the OC is largely against my installing a shed because it might set a precedent for others, also wanting to put up sheds. That whole “but she’s got a shed mentality…?”

In the last apartment complex the OC asked what I was storing in my shed. I didn’t immediately take their interest or concern seriously. I answered with my usual wit and humour “I’m not making Ice in there!” Breaking Bad made it seem like a good starting point to run successful manufacturing enterprise in a caravan in the desert. People these days make ice in rental properties which means they are no longer safe to live in. My real answer later was “My mobility scooter, gardening supplies and sometimes my excess tinned tomatoes and passata and panettone” I offered to use the light from my scooter to help better see what was really in my shed and I provided them with photos. It was exactly as my last statement and they dropped the issue.

Expectations From Others

Published June 30, 2025 by helentastic67

Expectations From Others

Sometimes, there are little things about having a disability that you would never imagine or believe.

People will always imagine everyone treats me as a human being that deserves respect, love and support and that might feel fair and truthful for some of the time. However, on occasion someone you least expect will throw their emotional baggage at you they refuse to deal with themselves, I gather.

When I’m depressed, I hibernate to minimise fallout on others. I’ve found biting and hissing at others just makes them less likely to sign up for more.

It’s not for everyone. It’s not even good for a long-term solution for anyone with mental health issues. But I like to consider I’m taking responsibility for my issues and not projecting my shit on others. But other times, when someone wants to pick a fight with me, they will throw it in my face that I’m uneducated.

I’m sorry! Did you hear me?

About ten-years-ago I had an OT ask me “How far I made it in school?” I was offended. I finished secondary school. Then completed three years of Tertiary, Arts, sure, however, I’ve since completed a leadership course of which this blog was my project. I also did part of a Certificate IV in assessment and training but don’t even start me on that.

I never had to do a four-thousand-word essay until my first year of tertiary. My art history lecturer thought my presentation on Pop Art and the artists Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein was brilliant. I know it may sound like I’m justifying but!

One thing I would never do is kick anybody when I’m struggling so I feel better about myself. So, you may be able to tell I’m having a hard time.

Sometimes, being one-handed, having half one’s eyesight, not being able to see. Work catches up on me. And as per I’ve some blogging to catch up on. I really don’t like blogging as a reactionary measure because I like to let the dust settle but maybe I need to rant.

Then I foresee many posts to context the ranting. Alas, it is 12.30am, and while this is early, I feel I should call it a day. Unpacking this shit always feels like unpacking dirty laundry.

Crisis

Published June 2, 2025 by helentastic67

Crisis

And here we are again, sitting with the intention to smash out my next batch of blog posts, to catch up on all the things. With the best of intentions I’ll see how this goes?

The best meme I’ve seen at the end of January 2025 stated, “This month was a long year!” and I whole heartedly agree.

That is to say by the end of 2024, it was a bit of a shitstorm. About a month and a half, ending in late November I was in absolute crisis. I’m relieved to say I rarely have had to resort to that particular word but it’s accurate.

You see, late last year, I moved my home. Well, just me and the contents. Not far at all as the crow flies, but packing up after seven comfortable years of more affordable rent the earth shifted and I relocated to my forever home.

The lead up to which, as much as I’d tried to have everything sorted and come together resulted in me not having the much needed funding, the extra carers and the so called promised help on the day. I’ve only just found the accurate word for how the big day moving was.

The following week after the trucks came, I had two Little Red Trucks (I only use them) and four people. They spent seven hours relocating me this one last time.

I have moved lots in my life. Plenty of times in my twenties, four times now since my disability and I’ve taken to making the statement, “I’M NEVER MOVING AGAIN! I’M GOING FROM HERE TO THE GRAVE! OK, I’M GOING FROM HERE TO THE FURNACE! WHAT! TOO MORBID? YES, I’M GOING TO BE CREMATED!”

When telling people about my new Forever Home, I’ve hinted at several things until I’m asked, “How much is the rent?” I smile just a little and shake my head in the negative. I’m never paying rent again. Quickly followed by “Don’t hate me because my father loved me!” Next.

Karen and the Motorbike – Follow-up

Published January 13, 2025 by helentastic67

Karen and the Motorbike – Follow up

So, remember the previous post? Hellonwheels – Part 2 | Hell onWheels/Life One Handed Where a female Karen thoughtlessly parked their motorbike in front of my shed? Yeah! Like we could forget?

So, I posted those photos to a social media page. You know the one? I had created the page pre-covid to help people network/help each other etc in my apartment building.

When people consistently find themselves on the receiving end of pure selfishness, they post photos of the results of said selfish actions. As I did, only after texting the likely culprit.

Oh My God! Help Me! It got some response. I even sent texts to my actual property manager who contacted the OC, who contacted the tenants, then the tow truck company. And an hour later I got a grumpy rant on the group chat making it sound like she was the victim.

I then had to Admin the shit out of her inappropriate use of the group chat. As I had politely asked her directly, because I had correctly guessed it was her motorbike in front of my shed. She deciding to ignore my messages I then posted it to the group chat hoping to get a little swifter action.

The fact that she got very defensive and stated she had only stopped in for ten minutes and ended staying longer was all completely irrelevant to the fact she had ignored my basic right to have what she takes for granted.

Hellonwheels, allows me basic freedom to go some distances and do local appointments without needing to rely on others and do a little local Hunter/Gathering of items I can take up to and into my home one-handed.

Making me wonder how often she does this?

Calming My Mind

Published January 29, 2024 by helentastic67

Calming My Mind

Might be a surprise to know I once upon a time worked in Admin, I was that busy little admin person whose desk often looked like a bomb had hit it. My boss once wandered around to loiter around behind me. Bit like a Creeper. He seemed to be just checking out what the hell I had going on.

I had a splash back/divider between my desk and the next person and it was covered in lists, post-its. Sell kinds of things. The coral I had created around one desk so I could have layers of in and out trays. This boss I prompted this particular day with a grumpy “What!!!!!!” (Note, not. Question?) He dismissively expressed he’s not being impressed with what a mess my desk area was. I told him I knew where everything was, he only had to ask and I would put my hand on it. He disappeared and went back to his messy desk.

Occasionally during preparing for an audit another Satan member would pullout the clients files she had not been able to find. He would ask “Where is this file?” I would put one hand on my head, he would do this to take my hand off my mouse when he would “train me” how to do something on my computer so as not to put his hand on mine. And with my other hand I pointed to an overflowing in tray on his desk, he had neglected. The other colleague then mentioned the next four client files she’d been unable to locate. Again, hand upon head and the other pointing to his desk.

Later he would check the files, the referral, the notes and put post-its on each, then deposit them on my desk with instructions of who to contact, each potential host to send that client to that corresponding host to do their mutual obligation. Then, I would do the rest. I guess his desk was often an extension of mine.

Time for an Acronym.
MO, Mutual Obligation. Otherwise, known as Work for the dole. Damn it. Also known as WFD. We commonly nicknamed it Work for the coffee scroll.

On one occasion the Grumpy boss asked the office in general “What’s Frank’s number?”
I altered my sight of vision ever so slightly and read him out the number.
He had,
A) De-skilled.
B) Gotten lazy in remembering Frank’s Number.
C) He never questioned my messy desk again.

And before anyone feels they need to ask? Yes! I did feel like a trained monkey. I also could point out the location of his coffee mug to remind him where he had left it.

Yet, I’ve still not covered the post I had intended to write today. Always happens this way.

My Best Advice

Published September 26, 2022 by helentastic67

My Best Advice

Last week at a meeting I contributed my Hot Tip for how I managed to get through the Plague in the last few years. Now it received rave reviews, but I feel like it will be passed on to the intended third party without my name attached. Call me crazy but I like to be given credit where credit is due.

So, well they failed to remember Hell’s got a BLOG! So, I’ll just beat them to it.

My advice –

I thought of friends that might have been more isolated than I was or coping with all the lockdown stuff in Melbourne and all the social isolations, and I rang them, I reached out. I just talked about whatever, and I know the people I chose to do this with appreciated me doing so.

Ironically, because everyone always assumes Hell’s doing OK, no one ever thinks to check on me.

Who Am I?

Published September 13, 2021 by helentastic67

Who am I?

My name is Helen, I started blogging in 2015. Since then, I’ve written over 600+ blog posts and acquired over 280 followers all around the world.

I’ve really let my blog speak for itself and not really marketed myself in any commercial way to gain a larger following.

Pre-Covid I was sharing three posts a week. Hellonwheels, is me doing brain injury differently. I’ve had my brain injury for over 48 years, only learning I even had my Arterial Venous Malformation (AVM) at aged 34 when I was really stressed, as a result of workplace bullying. After diagnosis and treatment, I have been left with stroke like symptoms.

It’s not easy being a high-functioning Acquired Brain Injury (ABI) and it’s even harder to explain. I have a good memory, a love for music and food – things some people with brain injuries can’t enjoy.

I’m a single-barren spinster, often including further descriptions, straight and fucking fussy!

I have strong opinions, which may or may not appeal to everyone. This is why I include stories of my past, little moments of life, foodie posts and beautiful things from nature.