Friday, February 22, 2013

28 Days

So I'm near on 28 days of Greatness and there is much to write about.
I'll start with the sadness. As a teenager, I had a close friend who was beautiful, tall, quiet and kind. I loved her, envied her (she was seriously beautiful) and made some pretty awesome memories with her. When she turned 18 I was still almost 6 months away from 'adulthood', so I found myself spending more time with her younger sister, the gorgeous Kate. Not quite as beautiful as her big sister, but  gorgeous, fun and warm. She became my friend.
Over the years I have become quite close with all of Megs family, they are beautiful and kind people. The same time Maggie was born, Kate was diagnosed with a brain tumour, about the same time I started blogging. I started emailing Kate, telling her silly stories of my life as a MILF.
Mother Incredibly Longing Freedom.
We maintained our correspondence, sporadically, and the last I saw of her was at Donno's funeral. She was cheeky, kind, warm and clever. Not to mention beautiful.
She died last week aged 31. It's taken my breathe away. My eyes leak and my heart hurts to write it, to say it, to know it. It seems impossible. Implausible. She was wonderful and she was young. So young.
I went to Melbourne for her funeral. It was sad, and beautiful. I feel a heaviness I didn't expect, a sadness I can't comfort. She was so much, and still she died.
I will remember her forever as a cheeky smile and a twinkling eye. Her Mother held me, after the funeral service, and her strength was enormous, her maternal instinct so huge that she wanted to comfort, which she did. This is being a Mother. For the first time in a long time I was wordless.
As an ode to Kate, I will honour her with 2 completely awkward moments that occurred whilst away. The first was while sharing a hotel room with my Mother, we decided to watch a movie in house. The Kids Are Alright. Spoiler alert. Terrific film, except for the completely excruciating scene where the lesbians are getting down and dirty with one another whilst watching male gay porn. Awkward. Say no more. The second was on my return home, my plane stopped in Alice Springs for 30 minutes. My lovely big brother, the chef, came out to meet me for the stopover. I was showing him some photos on my phone I had of some amazing mexican food (Mama Sita, Collins St? Shit Hot) I had eaten the night before. I was flipping through them happily when we stumbled upon a self portrait of my bottom that I had taken 3 nights earlier, as for reasons only clear to me I had gotten a spray tan (what's the etiquette on funerals & spray tans? Is there one? If so, I was unaware, and goddamn it I wanted to look healthy, and brown, ok?) and after a few drinks with an old friend I had staggered back to my hotel room (sans Mother, she arrived the next day) and taken a few selfies. Including one of my really white bottom. My big brother isn't a huge talker, so he didn't really ask any questions, but it was seriously....awkward.
I still haven't deleted the photo and I'll never be able to delete the memory, nor sadly will he.
I'm not sure how to end this, except to say 28 days is a short month, but much has happened. I've never felt so grateful or blessed with what and who I have. Not to mention I should seriously think about copywriting my MILF acronym, awesome.

Thursday, February 7, 2013


It's been 11 days since I came clean with myself about all the shit I'd been hanging onto.
All that shame - you know I was actually embarrassed of myself? Ashamed of things I had done. Guilty because of them. Self loathing as a result.
What a fucking relief to expel that from my head.
Turns out we all have shit we hold onto. It's never as bad as you've thought it to be.
I was left with a strange sort of emptiness. I'd look in the mirror and instead of seeing ugly I I'd reach for thoughts relating to losing weight, being an idiot  or being a failure. I could not find them. They would start and then kind of peter out...They seemed so pointless? Like foreign objects. Completely unnecessary.
I can say with certainty there is little to no value in referring to one's own self, in one's own head, as an idiot, or a failure, or even as a fat pig. You heard it here first.
For the first time as a grown up I felt safe in my own head. I trusted it.
What a fucking relief.
I have to say maintaining that state of being has not been entirely easy. There have been several moments this past week when I have heard the old familiar refrain in my mind of 'you are not good enough'.
I would buy into it, but it was seriously hard work purging those demons out of my head, not to mention the couple of thousand dollars I paid for the I acknowledge them and move on.
I can tell you that having a 6 year old refuse to get out of the bath because he isn't allowed to watch Transformers is quite trying. 45 minutes. That's a cold bath. I chose to be impressed with his passion (and no he still didn't get to watch it).
A 2 year old who insists I stay in her bed with her until she falls asleep. By insisting, I mean throwing a bluey, hissy fit, barney, complete wobbly for a continuous length of time if I dare leave the room.
I have chosen to enjoy the serenity of laying next to my precious girl while she falls asleep (god knows she's not going to want me in there in 10 years time).
The never ending responsibilities of being a wife and mother. The at times overwhelming amount that needs to be done. Trying to put myself first isn't easy. However, now that I've minus-ed the guilt from my head, it's a whole lot more rewarding. And possibly that is putting myself first? I'm working on turning that refrain from 'you are not good enough' to just 'You Are Enough'.
What a fucking relief.