I wasn’t expecting that..

Me to my kids: We’re having fish and chips for dinner tonight.
My youngest (7): I don’t like fish and chips can I have frozen peas instead?

Surely all kids should like hot chips right? Isn’t that a rule? Unless they have a severe potato allergy and even then they would still want to have chips if they could wouldn’t they?

Life is strange isn’t it?

There’s never quite the right answer for it.

It’s unpredictable in both good and bad ways.

My very dear friends cat died recently. On the back of another of her cats dying not that long ago. Both sad accidents. That doesn’t seem to be fair. That’s not okay.

Life sometimes just sucks and it’s nobody’s fault. Or there’s nobody to blame which is probably worse.

My sister in law’s mum has cancer. She’s having chemo and has a fancy new wig. Her husband died after suffering from Parkinson’s disease for a decade and now she’s sick too.

That’s not fair.

But then there’s random good things too aren’t there?

Silly laughs with a friend.

Good coffee.

The perfect sugar-free slice of cheesecake.

Hot porridge in bed with a new book.

Clean sheets and towels.

YouTube clips of kids falling off slides.

Funny unexpected gifts in the mail.

Kindness in all its forms.

Microwave popcorn and a Disney movie.

There’s so much heavy sadness out there and sometimes in here too.

The not fair-ed-ness of life sometimes confounds me and leaves me at a loss for the right words to say.

The good moments that pop up in the midst of tragedy make it more bearable.

The strangeness of a kid not liking hot chips makes me laugh.

Life is complicated and it’s interesting isn’t it? It can all change in a second or you can be stuck in a rut for years.

I like to ramble a lot about nothing and post it online to remind myself when I look back that things change and that it usually works out okay.

xx

Not forlorned…

Come at me world.

Bring it on.

I’m ready for you.

No really, please come at me and explain how 3D printers work because I cannot comprehend it.

But seriously it’s all very real right now isn’t it?

This thing we call life.

I’ve been watching the Gilmore Girls specials and so now I can’t brain properly but I’m saying all of this super fast in my head.

Last week I went interstate for the day.

It was too much.

I am not that person. Except for when I am.

It was too much to fly 2 hours north and then drive one hour south just to watch one hour of a radio program and then eat ice cream on the beach.

It is too opulent.

I felt like a rich brat but on points.

I don’t quite know how to live and walk the line where I can have these crazy days and do too much while others have nothing.

You know how when you were younger you talked things up. This cost $100 it was so expensive.

Now it’s embarrassing. This old thing? I bought it at the Op Shop, ON SALE!

I proclaim to not want things and then I have crazy days and moments and privileges that others don’t.

I am not a conundrum.

I am just getting ready for my midlife crisis.

No, not really but I do need to learn to say no.

I may have already agreed to become an au-pair and a teacher of phonics to 10 year olds next year.

This is who I am.

My tastebuds have changed again. Like the seasons.

I’ve gone off chocolate.

I repeat I’ve gone off chocolate.

Last night I made sugar free banana muffins.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

And that’s okay too.

xx

P.S

“Being forlorned is not forearmed.”

(That obviously makes no sense but I made it up and now I think it’s a thing.)

P.P.S I think I’m hilarious but deep. Just in case you were wondering.

Limbo(ed)…

Last night I dreamt that I was riding my brothers yellow motor bike without a license and with no idea of how to ride a motor bike.

Please note my brother doesn’t own a yellow motor bike.

I didn’t have a bike helmet so I wore a shower cap instead.

Please note that a shower cap is a poor choice of safety head wear.

I accidentally left the motor bike on a bus and was quite upset in the dream because my brother would be angry with me.

Please note if that had happened he would have been within his rights to be angry. And who takes a motor bike on a bus anyway?

On the bus I was sitting next to one of the main female characters from Game of Thrones who in real life was a man and an identical twin.

Please note that I have never seen an episode of Game of Thrones because I’m a little bit scared of the violence and probably the nudity too.

My dream made no sense on so many levels.

But my real life doesn’t always make much more sense.

I seemed to lose hours of my day today as the kids played on iPads and I had nothing to do.

I read so many online articles that I went from stupid to wise and back again.

I have such vivid dreams that they freak me out.

Maybe it’s the meds. It must be the meds. Because they’re so real.

I would love someone to interpret them and to reassure me that I’m normal.

Well not necessarily normal but more like others than I feel sometimes.

I’m neither lost not found at the moment, just in limbo.

Like a ridiculously uncoordinated person stuck under a limbo stick with some sort of back condition.

Well there we have yet another disjointed post that goes nowhere.

You’re welcome.

xx

Options…

It’s Friday afternoon.

I’ve done two loads of washing, vacuumed and mopped the floors, emptied the cat litter and kitchen bin and made bolognese in the slow cooker.

I’m reading my book now. The afternoon sun is glorious and I’m in bed with socks on.

I’m also considering joining the Army and/or a bikie gang.

Well I would if I had enough energy.

I love the idea of getting my adventure on but truth be told I’m exhausted after having done very little.

Not sure I’d survive Army induction and I can’t ride a motor bike.

What are my options?

Will I ever have options again?

Who took my options?
Maybe I’ll just join a pottery class instead. That sounds infinitely more doable.

Hit me up if you want a wonky mug.

xx

Same, same.

It’s Sunday afternoon here which means that my 4 day weekend is coming to an end.

Yep. Not getting a lot of sympathy for that am I?

I’m only working 3 days this year. Monday to Wednesday.

I have more time for me.

It’s awesome.

(But I still dread Monday.)

This weekend I stayed at a hotel and slept in a big bed with the softest sheets.

On Friday night I drank a hot chocolate with a double shot of espresso and felt violently ill during a fantastic play detailing the life of Etta James.

I did not vomit in my handbag as I feared so that’s a win for everyone right there.

I’ve had many naps which is a sure sign of a successful weekend.

I’ve finished one book and I’ve started another.

Summer has come back and the washing basket is empty.

It is with much sadness that I announce that I am at a stage in my life where an empty washing basket brings me much joy.

This is more like a super boring diary entry than a blog post that changes the lives of millions but I guess that’s me.

I have only a few friends that I interact with on a regular basis and I don’t think anything I’m doing will change the world anytime soon.

And that’s probably a good thing.

Who needs that sort of pressure.

This is me. Leading my ordinary life. A life revolving around eating too much chocolate and making the most of the good washing days.

Same, same and very rarely different but mine. x

Nearly there…

I had a near death experience today.

Okay. That’s a slight (possibly massive) exaggeration.

When I opened a cupboard in the laundry a hack saw thingy fell on my arm.

No arteries were severed.

A rather small bruise is the evidence that anything actually happened.

But what if the saw didn’t have the cover on?

What if it had landed on my neck and severed an artery?

I sometimes (often) choose the slightly dramatic train of thought.

I googled my sore hip recently and convinced myself that my left leg is shorter than my right and that was causing the pain.

It’s not. I’m just a hypercondriac sometimes.

So back to my near death experience.

It got me to thinking that we worry more about near death than we should.

Perhaps we should be more worried about near life experiences.

Spending Thursdays in bed sleeping is a near life experience.

Keeping quiet about how you’re feeling when you’re down because it’s easier to not bother anyone is a near life experience.

Watching others do things you want to do.

Others trying new things and chasing new dreams.

They’re near life experiences.

What are your near life experiences?

Do they involve hack saws falling from the sky or are they more personal than that.

They should be easy I reckon.

Things you want to do but don’t because you’re too busy, tired, scared, lonely etc.

A movie on your own because you want to escape?

A second coffee because you want to?

Yes when you should say no?

It all keeps going and we keep going with it.

I’m going to try and have more near life experiences and do a little less hiding.

x

Changing Tracks…

There is a radio program that I listen to regularly. On Friday afternoons at around 5:10 they have a segment called “Changing Tracks”.

People write in and share a story about a song that meant something to them when their life changed.

They are often poignant.

(Love that word.)

One that has stuck in my mind for sometime was a man who wrote in about his daughter who fell down a cliff accidentally when she was a teenager.

And some time later after stressed relations with his family his son played him “Sweet Child O mine” and he let everything out.

I’ve thought for ages about what I would write but decided that there wasn’t anything that had happened to me.

No major change.

But today I started thinking about the song that I played on repeat just before and after I was diagnosed with depression.

At a time when all was dark and I had more thoughts about dying than living I listened to a song by Mark Wilkinson called Middle Ground.

The line “just hold on for one more year then maybe these skies will start to clear” spoke to me.

And because it spoke to me I listened to it even though I couldn’t speak back.

A week ago I listened to Ave Maria and cried or tried to cry.

(The meds seem to stop the tears. Which I guess is kind of the point.)

Ave Maria and the beauty of that song made me feel so low but it felt good too.

I’ve been writing about music a lot lately. One could almost be mistaken for thinking that I know something about it. I don’t. But sometimes it moves me.

But back to my Changing Track.

It would probably go something a little like this…

In August of 2013 I was a wife, a mother of 2 young boys, a daughter to parents who split up a couple of years before and a pre-school teacher.

I was trying to make everybody happy and avoid conflict. I was resolving issues in my head that would never occur in real life and I was exhausted.

And then it all got too much and apparently I was depressed.

That diagnosis still doesn’t sit right with me because it can’t just be that or I should have been stronger than that or I should be struggling more now.

But I remember listening to this song on my iPod after I’d been admitted to the mental health ward.

A place where I was surrounded by like minded people and not necessarily in a good way.

Sleeping in a room with no sharp corners and a bathroom with no shower rail.

I have no idea why this song helped but while I was listening to it I felt like I had some hope.

That I could change and that if I kept holding on that better days would come.

And I guess the thing that I still don’t understand is if it’s all in my head.

If I made it up for attention and milk it for what it’s worth because I was never really that sick.

Or perhaps I’m just so good at hiding it and acting out my “she’ll be right mate” script that I fool myself.

Said the girl who now feels scared when she’s sad.

xx