Ahem.
No not Amen. Ahem, like I'm sheepishly clearing my throat.
I have completed my 4 day Greatness In You Seminar. There are many things I could say, many stories I could tell. But I won't. All I can say is this.
There is Greatness In Me.
Quite alot actually.
I've managed to free myself of rather alot of "emotional baggage" in these past few days.
It turns out it was all in my head.
Who knew?!
So this post finds me smiling, calm and ready.
Ready for..... whatever.
My main concern now is what on earth will I blog if I don't have all that self pity and angst to fall back on?!
I reckon I'll think of something ;)
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Thursday, January 24, 2013
The Evening Of
Tomorrow I go on my first holiday by myself in 5 years. I'm almost overjoyed at the prospect of boarding a plane....without any children.
All I need is a book and some earphones.
Where I am going is another story. Off to find the Greatness In Me, 4 days of seminar spent...
Peeling my layers off like an onion?
Discovering My True Self, my True Potential?
Releasing my inner demons?
I don't know what it involves, but I'm hoping the end result is what I'm looking for. I'm hoping it makes me a better mother, a better wife. That I learn to trust myself and my decisions, that I become my own best friend rather than my bloody worst enemy. That my somewhat cloudy vision is cleared.
Tonight, the eve of, I find myself feeling various shades of anxious.
I'm concerned those demons might be real, and if I confront them, release them, they might be too strong & will eat me up.
Can I just add here we have been playing a few fantasy xbox games in our house and that imagining could be related ;)
I'm worried I won't like who I discover under those layers.
I never use the onion core when cooking, never.
What if my issues, my problems, my dramas are nothing? What if I have wasted all this time worrying on them when they were actually NOTHING?
I have a feeling this could be true, and it might be a good thing. We shall have to find out.
I'm also concerned my family, who on the one hand I am so pleased get to live without me for a few days, will actually enjoy the experience. What if things go wonderfully while I'm away?
The answer to that should be 'fantastic'! Which it sort of is, but it's also sort of WHAT!?
What if the problem is me?
So I'm terrifically excited, terrified, anxious and happy, all in the one.
I will ache for my children, those 5 mornings I'm away from them, but I will also walk each day at 7.30am barefoot on the beach and I will relish every step of it.
See you on the other side...
All I need is a book and some earphones.
Where I am going is another story. Off to find the Greatness In Me, 4 days of seminar spent...
Peeling my layers off like an onion?
Discovering My True Self, my True Potential?
Releasing my inner demons?
I don't know what it involves, but I'm hoping the end result is what I'm looking for. I'm hoping it makes me a better mother, a better wife. That I learn to trust myself and my decisions, that I become my own best friend rather than my bloody worst enemy. That my somewhat cloudy vision is cleared.
Tonight, the eve of, I find myself feeling various shades of anxious.
I'm concerned those demons might be real, and if I confront them, release them, they might be too strong & will eat me up.
Can I just add here we have been playing a few fantasy xbox games in our house and that imagining could be related ;)
I'm worried I won't like who I discover under those layers.
I never use the onion core when cooking, never.
What if my issues, my problems, my dramas are nothing? What if I have wasted all this time worrying on them when they were actually NOTHING?
I have a feeling this could be true, and it might be a good thing. We shall have to find out.
I'm also concerned my family, who on the one hand I am so pleased get to live without me for a few days, will actually enjoy the experience. What if things go wonderfully while I'm away?
The answer to that should be 'fantastic'! Which it sort of is, but it's also sort of WHAT!?
What if the problem is me?
So I'm terrifically excited, terrified, anxious and happy, all in the one.
I will ache for my children, those 5 mornings I'm away from them, but I will also walk each day at 7.30am barefoot on the beach and I will relish every step of it.
See you on the other side...
Monday, January 21, 2013
10 out of 10
We have now loved each other for 10 years.
A decade of laughter and joy, happiness and fun, some sadness, loss, change.
Still the beginning of what is to be a long and loving friendship, connection, romance.
He can still make my tummy flip over. He always makes me laugh. He looks much the same as he always has, with perhaps a few extra grey hairs and slightly (only slightly) a little more tummy.
He is serious, yet silly, strong but vulnerable and he is smart and wise and wonderful.
I am so lucky to have found him. So lucky to have him love me, and for me to love him right back.
He is a kind and patient father, cheeky, warm, understanding. Our kids are so lucky.
He is my best friend, my lover, my ally. We have created in each other a partnership, with our children a family. It's more than I ever dreamt of.
I love his hair, his eyes, his smile. I love to make him laugh, to watch him with his kids, I love his work voice, his strength, his know how. I love him! It makes me smile to write this.
So here is to the next 10 years. And the next. And the next. And so on.
Happy Anniversary JK x
A decade of laughter and joy, happiness and fun, some sadness, loss, change.
Still the beginning of what is to be a long and loving friendship, connection, romance.
He can still make my tummy flip over. He always makes me laugh. He looks much the same as he always has, with perhaps a few extra grey hairs and slightly (only slightly) a little more tummy.
He is serious, yet silly, strong but vulnerable and he is smart and wise and wonderful.
I am so lucky to have found him. So lucky to have him love me, and for me to love him right back.
He is a kind and patient father, cheeky, warm, understanding. Our kids are so lucky.
He is my best friend, my lover, my ally. We have created in each other a partnership, with our children a family. It's more than I ever dreamt of.
I love his hair, his eyes, his smile. I love to make him laugh, to watch him with his kids, I love his work voice, his strength, his know how. I love him! It makes me smile to write this.
So here is to the next 10 years. And the next. And the next. And so on.
Happy Anniversary JK x
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Christmas Cheers
We did it. 10 adults, 4 children, a delicious Christmas lunch and many drinks had by all. Presents, swimming, a few joints, laughter, some tears, love.
Actually when I say some tears that's not quite right. I'd bought 3 candles as a centrepiece for the table and once everyone had sat down to eat I quietly cleared my throat and said something along the lines of "I'd like to acknowledge and remember 3 people who aren't here today, my Dad, Josh's Dad and the beautiful Donno. Even though they aren't here physically, I see each of them in the faces around this table and I feel them in the love and laughter we share together. Thanks for being here."
Between us we were 6 children missing our fathers and 2 wives missing their husbands. 2 kids without Grandfathers and our extra guests were both without partners, one a separated single mother.
When I looked up from my little speech, I'm not much of a public speaker, even in a small group full of loved ones I feel clammy and red cheeked, the entire table had eyes filled with tears, these burly men who are my brothers, those strong women who are our mothers. It surprised me, pleased me and satisfied me. Our pain at losing those men we have loved is still raw, still constant, but the relief at being with one another was great.
The rest of the day was as Christmas should be. Silly, fun, drunk, satisfying. There was no more talk or thought of who we were missing, because we were surrounded by what we have. Family. Friends. Children. Love. Memories, both old and new. It was one of the best Christmases I can remember.
It feels as though we have said an appropriate goodbye to 2012, not the best year, but full of great things. I'm feeling good about 2013, pretty good indeed :)
Actually when I say some tears that's not quite right. I'd bought 3 candles as a centrepiece for the table and once everyone had sat down to eat I quietly cleared my throat and said something along the lines of "I'd like to acknowledge and remember 3 people who aren't here today, my Dad, Josh's Dad and the beautiful Donno. Even though they aren't here physically, I see each of them in the faces around this table and I feel them in the love and laughter we share together. Thanks for being here."
Between us we were 6 children missing our fathers and 2 wives missing their husbands. 2 kids without Grandfathers and our extra guests were both without partners, one a separated single mother.
When I looked up from my little speech, I'm not much of a public speaker, even in a small group full of loved ones I feel clammy and red cheeked, the entire table had eyes filled with tears, these burly men who are my brothers, those strong women who are our mothers. It surprised me, pleased me and satisfied me. Our pain at losing those men we have loved is still raw, still constant, but the relief at being with one another was great.
The rest of the day was as Christmas should be. Silly, fun, drunk, satisfying. There was no more talk or thought of who we were missing, because we were surrounded by what we have. Family. Friends. Children. Love. Memories, both old and new. It was one of the best Christmases I can remember.
It feels as though we have said an appropriate goodbye to 2012, not the best year, but full of great things. I'm feeling good about 2013, pretty good indeed :)
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Dad
It's 20 years ago this Christmas that my Dad died. Like, the actual day, where half of the worlds population are celebrating the birth of some baby that actually happened a thousand years ago. Or is it longer? Not to mention lying to their children about a fat bearded man who snuck into their home and left them presents for being good. I'll save the rest of that spiel for another post.
Dad had been sick for a year, really sick for weeks. He was skin and bone, with this frightening bloated belly, like a child from Ethiopia suffering starvation. It was this awful waiting game, the one with no winners, just a whole lot of pain, a whole lot of waiting.
I've always wondered whether it would be better or worse to lose someone suddenly, like in a car crash, so that you didn't have to watch them die. Better that I never know, but I imagine in the long run it's just the same - constant, heavy and unstoppable grief.
Dad died in the middle of the morning, around about present opening time. Mum was with him, us kids scattered about the house, I was reading a new book that I had been given that day, it was called Rocco, it took me weeks to finish that book, and another 18 years before I could throw it out. I think I held onto it for so long because it was a physical reminder of that moment. It was a really shit book and I could never bring myself to reread it, but it meant something to me.
Mum came to find me, crying, told me Dad had died. It was such a surreal moment, hugging, walking down the passageway to the bedroom, for a minute I thought I was going to burst out laughing (it's a common stress response - these days it happens when my children have their immunisation needles - I get a terrible fit of the giggles. Such a good mother.).
I'm not sure to this day whether his dead body gave me peace or concern. At least he wasn't suffering anymore....and at least I didn't have to watch him suffering anymore. But that emaciated man lying before me was not the Dad I knew, trusted or really loved. I was frightened of him. I didn't know him. He couldn't be my Dad like that. One of the things that always bothered me was his body in the coffin. I hated the thought of him being trapped in there with a pile of dirt on top of him. I still hate the thought of it, so I'll take this opportunity to remind my loved ones that if it's ever me in that casket burn the damn thing up and throw me off Mt Gillen. You can take the girl out of Central Australia but you can't take the Central Australia out of the girl. (I also quite like the idea of everyone slogging up that hill - may I suggest you do it at Easter time - in the lovely weather.)
What a shit Christmas. My first day back at school, Year 9 (of all the grades at school surely Year 9 is the worst, just the worst. Teenagers are animals.) and a classmate yells out to me as I'm walking in the school grounds "Did your Dad die on Christmas Day?!" with equal measure of ridicule and intrigue. I answered quietly, but still people heard. Yes.
What else to say? I never knew. For years I harboured a deep sadness that I couldn't describe, or share, or confide in anyone. I didn't have the words, or the maturity. I hated my friends for not asking the right questions and I hated myself for not speaking my truth. I escaped in my imagination, dreaming of a day when I would not only be the the fittest, coolest, gorgeous girl but have the fittest, coolest, gorgeous boyfriend. Ohh the hours spent daydreaming.
I'm not going to be able to finish this post today. There is much more to say, but I'm rambling a bit already and I want to say it properly. I still miss him. As a man, as a Dad, as a figure. There is so much I wanted to share with him. And he with me. I hold him everyday in my heart, I speak his name, I remember him always, my wonderful Dad.
Dad had been sick for a year, really sick for weeks. He was skin and bone, with this frightening bloated belly, like a child from Ethiopia suffering starvation. It was this awful waiting game, the one with no winners, just a whole lot of pain, a whole lot of waiting.
I've always wondered whether it would be better or worse to lose someone suddenly, like in a car crash, so that you didn't have to watch them die. Better that I never know, but I imagine in the long run it's just the same - constant, heavy and unstoppable grief.
Dad died in the middle of the morning, around about present opening time. Mum was with him, us kids scattered about the house, I was reading a new book that I had been given that day, it was called Rocco, it took me weeks to finish that book, and another 18 years before I could throw it out. I think I held onto it for so long because it was a physical reminder of that moment. It was a really shit book and I could never bring myself to reread it, but it meant something to me.
Mum came to find me, crying, told me Dad had died. It was such a surreal moment, hugging, walking down the passageway to the bedroom, for a minute I thought I was going to burst out laughing (it's a common stress response - these days it happens when my children have their immunisation needles - I get a terrible fit of the giggles. Such a good mother.).
I'm not sure to this day whether his dead body gave me peace or concern. At least he wasn't suffering anymore....and at least I didn't have to watch him suffering anymore. But that emaciated man lying before me was not the Dad I knew, trusted or really loved. I was frightened of him. I didn't know him. He couldn't be my Dad like that. One of the things that always bothered me was his body in the coffin. I hated the thought of him being trapped in there with a pile of dirt on top of him. I still hate the thought of it, so I'll take this opportunity to remind my loved ones that if it's ever me in that casket burn the damn thing up and throw me off Mt Gillen. You can take the girl out of Central Australia but you can't take the Central Australia out of the girl. (I also quite like the idea of everyone slogging up that hill - may I suggest you do it at Easter time - in the lovely weather.)
What a shit Christmas. My first day back at school, Year 9 (of all the grades at school surely Year 9 is the worst, just the worst. Teenagers are animals.) and a classmate yells out to me as I'm walking in the school grounds "Did your Dad die on Christmas Day?!" with equal measure of ridicule and intrigue. I answered quietly, but still people heard. Yes.
What else to say? I never knew. For years I harboured a deep sadness that I couldn't describe, or share, or confide in anyone. I didn't have the words, or the maturity. I hated my friends for not asking the right questions and I hated myself for not speaking my truth. I escaped in my imagination, dreaming of a day when I would not only be the the fittest, coolest, gorgeous girl but have the fittest, coolest, gorgeous boyfriend. Ohh the hours spent daydreaming.
I'm not going to be able to finish this post today. There is much more to say, but I'm rambling a bit already and I want to say it properly. I still miss him. As a man, as a Dad, as a figure. There is so much I wanted to share with him. And he with me. I hold him everyday in my heart, I speak his name, I remember him always, my wonderful Dad.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
A New Week
I've weaned myself off wine (for the time being) so I'm part way to feeling terrific again.
Asides from tearing my 6 year old son a new asshole for not opening the driveway gate this morning. In hindsight, a definite overreaction, but at the time, a definite rage. Poor kid. Mother Guilt is officially in fine working order today.
Damn there is a bit of a comedown after what I think may have been a 10 day wine bender? No wonder my tolerance was increasing! No wonder I barely managed to walk the dog for 20 minutesas exercise. No wonder I currently can't see my fanny - far too much tummy hanging down.
In admitting all that, here is what I have done since yesterday.
Yesterday, a 3km jog, slow, unpretty, at times very huffy puffy, but I did it. 20 minutes uninterrupted. Back on the horse as they say, onward and upward from here. A 60 second plank, 5 minutes worth of sit ups. There is definitely some muscle under all that fat, just got to get to it now...
This morning I woke up at 6.30 and Maggie and I took the dog for a 30 minute walk. Almost cooler at that time of day. Almost.
Later today I attended my first Pump class at the gym in a LONG time. Yes I know I'll be sore tomorrow. In fact, just in case I'm sore today, which I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be, I've taken some Nurofen. Always good to cover the bases.
My living room floors are so dirty they have actually started to call out cries of help to me when I walk over them, 'wash us, mop us, please', so I'm hoping this wonderful motivation might continue later in the day & result in some shiny floors. At this point I've actually spent more time thinking about doing them, than it would actually take to do them.
I plan to get straight on that, after I do my 30 minute guided meditation (Topic: GetMotivated!), get my daughter to sleep, eat lunch, wash dishes, hang out washing...god I'm exhausted just writing it.
To Be Continued...
Asides from tearing my 6 year old son a new asshole for not opening the driveway gate this morning. In hindsight, a definite overreaction, but at the time, a definite rage. Poor kid. Mother Guilt is officially in fine working order today.
Damn there is a bit of a comedown after what I think may have been a 10 day wine bender? No wonder my tolerance was increasing! No wonder I barely managed to walk the dog for 20 minutesas exercise. No wonder I currently can't see my fanny - far too much tummy hanging down.
In admitting all that, here is what I have done since yesterday.
Yesterday, a 3km jog, slow, unpretty, at times very huffy puffy, but I did it. 20 minutes uninterrupted. Back on the horse as they say, onward and upward from here. A 60 second plank, 5 minutes worth of sit ups. There is definitely some muscle under all that fat, just got to get to it now...
This morning I woke up at 6.30 and Maggie and I took the dog for a 30 minute walk. Almost cooler at that time of day. Almost.
Later today I attended my first Pump class at the gym in a LONG time. Yes I know I'll be sore tomorrow. In fact, just in case I'm sore today, which I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be, I've taken some Nurofen. Always good to cover the bases.
My living room floors are so dirty they have actually started to call out cries of help to me when I walk over them, 'wash us, mop us, please', so I'm hoping this wonderful motivation might continue later in the day & result in some shiny floors. At this point I've actually spent more time thinking about doing them, than it would actually take to do them.
I plan to get straight on that, after I do my 30 minute guided meditation (Topic: GetMotivated!), get my daughter to sleep, eat lunch, wash dishes, hang out washing...god I'm exhausted just writing it.
To Be Continued...
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Heat Wave
Just a quick one, I need to complain about the weather.
Again.
Usually every year in Oct/Nov I take the kids for a week down to Adelaide to visit Mum. It's generally pretty cool still down there, brisk in the evenings, dry and fresh and clean in the day.
We didn't do that this year. At this point I have no holidays booked in the foreseeable future (thinking about plenty, but nothing real yet) so I FEEL LIKE I'M STUCK IN HELL.
My study is a cosy little room at the end of our house that I generally forget to open the curtains in and if I leave the aircon running for 10 minutes it is a lovely little ice box. It's currently only been running for 6 minutes and I have streams of sweat whispering down my back, beads of perspiration on my brow and rapidly melting icecubes in my wine glass.
Yes I know it's only 4.45pm, I've given up caring. This weeks vice (and last weeks, and possibly next weeks too) will be wine. I'm finding it takes the edge off nicely.
Things should improve shortly, but it may be too late for my recently acquired spray tan. Hopefully the stripey look is in. I am going to 3 different social occasions this week and I needed something to hide the wine glow/boat I've been developing. It's certainly helped, however I can't go swimming for 3 days or I risk the whole thing disappearing, which is like cutting off my nose to spite my face. Or something like that. My brain function is running low trying to conserve energy, must not overheat, do not swim your skin will go white...
I haven't done a full 5k run in almost 2 weeks. I've attempted a few, but for the first time since I became 'a runner' I have given up after 5/10/12 minutes. I'm pretty sure I managed 12 minutes the other day, but I may have been hallucinating from the heat. It's unbearable. The heat, not the giving up. I'm beyond caring.
I hereby declare I will run naked into the next wonderful wet season storm that hits Darwin. Let's hope it hits whilst I'm at home.
Again.
Usually every year in Oct/Nov I take the kids for a week down to Adelaide to visit Mum. It's generally pretty cool still down there, brisk in the evenings, dry and fresh and clean in the day.
We didn't do that this year. At this point I have no holidays booked in the foreseeable future (thinking about plenty, but nothing real yet) so I FEEL LIKE I'M STUCK IN HELL.
My study is a cosy little room at the end of our house that I generally forget to open the curtains in and if I leave the aircon running for 10 minutes it is a lovely little ice box. It's currently only been running for 6 minutes and I have streams of sweat whispering down my back, beads of perspiration on my brow and rapidly melting icecubes in my wine glass.
Yes I know it's only 4.45pm, I've given up caring. This weeks vice (and last weeks, and possibly next weeks too) will be wine. I'm finding it takes the edge off nicely.
Things should improve shortly, but it may be too late for my recently acquired spray tan. Hopefully the stripey look is in. I am going to 3 different social occasions this week and I needed something to hide the wine glow/boat I've been developing. It's certainly helped, however I can't go swimming for 3 days or I risk the whole thing disappearing, which is like cutting off my nose to spite my face. Or something like that. My brain function is running low trying to conserve energy, must not overheat, do not swim your skin will go white...
I haven't done a full 5k run in almost 2 weeks. I've attempted a few, but for the first time since I became 'a runner' I have given up after 5/10/12 minutes. I'm pretty sure I managed 12 minutes the other day, but I may have been hallucinating from the heat. It's unbearable. The heat, not the giving up. I'm beyond caring.
I hereby declare I will run naked into the next wonderful wet season storm that hits Darwin. Let's hope it hits whilst I'm at home.
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