Tag Archives: anxiety

2017

Registered Marriage Celebrant

Today is the last day of 2017. A time of reflection.

My year has been one of amazement. I am amazed I have survived. I am amazed my family have survived. There have been times where I would have liked to stab Dear Husband in the eye with a fork. There are many mornings where Girl Child 9 and Boy Child 6 have copped an earful of swearing fit for a pirate ship. But for the most part we have had a good year.

I look back on  posts such as Cows, God and Lego and I realise that I was on a journey that I hadn’t consciously chosen at the time of writing. In this post I wrote of forbidden opinions never to be said out loud. Lucky I wrote them down.

I wrote that it is great to have ceremonies for births, deaths and marriages it helps people cope. I am unsure if this blog post helped me to tread my new path, or whether my subconscious had already begun treading it. Regardless, I am now a Civil Celebrant who can perform these rituals.

What else have I learned by reading my past blogs?

  1. Sometimes I am too gutless to publish my posts. I have 4 drafts sitting unpublished. Perhaps I am not gutless but trying to please everyone which has prevented me from spewing my opinions on the world. Either way, I have sat on my hands with these 4 and saved you from reading them.
  2. I really like good customer service. I really do. I have had minimal arguments with my DH this year. The one’s we have had have been about his embarrassment that I am not afraid to speak my mind when expecting exemplary customer service. He would prefer to shut up and be fed shit. I would prefer to speak up and be treated like I should be.
  3. I am a product of the 70’s. However I am rather judgemental of people who smoke whilst people are eating or anywhere else that they shouldn’t (in 2017). Don’t get me wrong, I love the odd dart. In fact I am secretly inhaling DH’s second hand fumes as I type, wishing it was my mouth on the other end of that butt.
  4. I am passionate about Boobs. No, I don’t go around perving on them, but if you wish to flash those puppies in public go right ahead. I will cop a feel for you if you are unsure of a potential lump, because that’s what friends do. Please check your boobs ladies, this shit saves lives.
  5. Accept the things you cannot change. Back in January I wrote about grieving those who still walk the planet. My heart has healed somewhat since I wrote this post, but the scar is still a little itchy. I have no control over the situation, therefore I must Let it Go.
  6. Menopause is a force to be reckoned with. The hardest part was realising that I was a nasty bitch and nobody liked me (OK, that is a bit harsh on self), another thing was finding out how it affects my health. Getting the balance right comes down to diet and self management, both of which I seem to have a handle on.
  7. Arsehole is another word for Good Parent. I am a Good Parent!
  8. Love your family. The best thing that happened to our marriage this year (apart from my awesome clinical psychologist) was a game of football. I hate football, but I love my husband. Seeing him run onto that field as an old man (Sorry DH, but you were 46 on the day) and sustain a hamstring injury made us laugh, made our kids see him in a different light and generally made us all feel good.
  9. Life is amazing. Choose Life. Stuff happens that make life a challenge, but faced with the facts of how different life would be without me or any of you, I choose life. Sometimes it is a near miss, like I had, that make us reflect how our little and extended families would feel if we were taken from them. This is what I tell myself when the black dog nips at my heals and I feel like everyone else would be better off without me, when I am too scared to try something new in case I fail, when I understand that I am not my parents and never will be, when I listen to my husband and understand his point of view, when I give my kids time to be kids, and the list goes on.
  10. I am Amazing. This year I studied to become a Civil Celebrant.  As I said at the beginning of this post, I was on a journey this year. Becoming a Registered Marriage Celebrant has made be look within, not only at how I feel about marriage, but also about life in general. Life is full of wonder. Life is full of challenges. We only get one chance at life and we should make the best of it

I have done a lot of self improvement this year. I got treatment for being an arsehole menopause. I got even more treatment for my fucked up head (you would think I could sort this shit out after 26 years since diagnosis). I am proud to have forgiven those whom I thought I never could, this includes myself. Thank you Mum for this gem “Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it”-Mark Twain (although the internet is not sure he wrote it).

Forgiveness has granted me freedom.

Much love from me to you as this year comes to a close. Happy New Year!

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Don’t Call Me Charlie

My kids hate it when they’re having a bad day. I get all theatrical and sing them songs of happiness and inspiration.

Do you remember the song in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory? You know it, “Cheer Up Charlie”. If not, here’s the link to remind you.

https://youtu.be/caMIkwTPBwA

BC6 woke up this morning in a mood to darken the brightest of days. No hugs, eye rolling practice and general moodiness and disrespect. When I likened his behaviour to that of a tweenage girl GC8 rolled her eyes and stated she’s not even that bad (not going to challenge her on that comment as I’m already dealing with one poo head). He then stormed to his room and slammed the door.

As much as I wish my kids were happy, and well behaved, ALL the time, they are small humans. We need our downs so we can appreciate our ups. Me antagonising them with songs just makes them darker and more pissed off than ever. Clearly I need to take a check of my arseholeness (new word) and stop being a bitch to them.

I don’t know why I do it. I hate it when my dear husband tries lame jokes to cheer me up. Sometimes I just want to wallow in my darkness and discontent and our children should be allowed the same rights.

As I dropped them at the school gate thus morning I called after them “Love you, have a great day” just as I do every morning.

GC8 replied “love you Mum, I will”.

BC6 almost automatically replied then caught himself and trudged off, eyes downcast until I was out of sight.

Is it me? Does he reflect the mood I am in? I am in some minor pain and discomfort at the moment depending on how long since I popped a painkiller. My house is filthy because I can’t push a vacuum or mop. This increases my anxiety and turns me into loony, frustrated, psycho mum.

Sorry little dude.

I hope your day gets much better and I get lots of hugs when you get home xx

Choose Life

Dealing with life can sometimes be a pain in the arse. Shit happens. Shit happens that we wish did not happen. Sadly some of that shit is inevitable.

Last week I had a near miss after dropping the kids at school. Some dick wad drove through a give way sign and I had to put my foot down and drive around him or get hit. I was still shaking when I got to the supermarket deli where I regularly chat with the lady behind the counter.

Our conversation went like this.

“How are you today”

“A bit shaky actually, some dick wad just tried to clean me up”

“Did you report it?”

“Well, yes, not at first, but I drove past the ute again after the incident and wound down my window, and said what happened mate? This bloke said I wasn’t driving, and then drove off flipping me the bird as he did so. If he had of apologised I might not have reported it.”

“Not good enough honey, what if he had cleaned you up. Your two kids would be without their mum, people die, but it’s supposed to be when they are old and ready.”

This really hit me hard. It made me think of the times I wish that I might not wake up tomorrow. The reality of living with mental illness means that this does go through my head. I am not going to deny that I have wished for the easy way out when I allow myself to let my thoughts get out of control. My brave and strong inner voice would be telling be to get my shit together and remember how fucking amazing I am, and how much I can give to the world. My weak, frail inner voice says horrid stuff to me all the time about how I am useless, how much happier my family would be without me yelling at them all the time, how much happier my husband would be without me bitching at him. Of course that is true, but imagine how devastated my BC6 and GC8 and would be if I was suddenly not in my world.

So thank you Dick Wad. Thanks for nearly smashing into me. Thanks for the reality check.

Choose life.

Are You Like a Queen?

A peaceful afternoon on the couch.

Thanks to one of my Queens I have just put down the hilariously funny book Like a Queen written by Constance Hall. Thank you Sister for the loan, you know who you are.

Reading Constance’s journey of motherhood, sisterhood, wifehood and very relatable anxiety has made me laugh and cry out loud. I have to admit something.

I am writing to confess.

I have not been a good Queen.

I judged someone when I wrote Who’s Livin’ in the 70s just two weeks ago. I even wrote these words, ‘Now I am all about being a queen and preserving the sisterhood by not judging, but sorry, in this case I cannot help it.’  I admit it. I judged.

I began that post beginning with the words Judgement Warning! I got the most hits ever for one of my blogs. I smashed my previous stats, and it was making me feel good. I had more than double the views of my next most popular post, and I even began to think it might even go viral as I was getting hits world wide.

My inflated ego was quickly popped when one of the most respected sisters pointed out to me that I had been a bit mean in judging #ladywhosmokesincarwithkidwhileeating. She wanted to know when my halo had suddenly straightened and I had become perfect.

Rest assured my halo is still sideways and my angel wings are a little ruffled.

Thus said, it resonated with me that #queensunite is a bloody good idea. Not only will we be able to share our stories, but our kings might also enjoy a laugh or get a glimpse as to WTF goes though our heads.

So get your judgement caps off sisters, and put your sharing boots on.

Let’s love and support one another to be the best we can x

 

chrismas-bonbonsThere have been years when the thought of Christmas looming just made me grumpy and anxious.
Working in hospitality meant that by the time Christmas finally got here, the carols, the cleaning up after the bonbons and the people who are not the best behaved under the influence of alcohol had worn on my nerves to the extent that they were like the little popper in the bonbon, just waiting for someone to tug on them before they cracked.

Then there was the pressure of finding pleasure in shopping! I fucking hate dislike shopping.  That is all!

This year we have got it sorted. We have taken the stress out of the day. Instead of shopping for shit that will remain in the packaging for years to come, we have opted for a $10 Secret Santa for all the people over the age of High School. Shopping for the small kids was easy as pie. I scheduled a whole day and made a list. It wasn’t fun, but it did not see me sitting in my hot car somewhere breathing into a brown paper bag.

our-actual-christmas-tree

Our Tree

The food is organised. I never stress about cooking as this is the part I love. Our kids are the perfect age for building some excitement in the lead up. I let them decorate the tree by themselves. I did not move one of the baubles to a more appropriate place. It is theirs and it is beautiful xx

Today I finish work for the break and have a couple of days to casually wrap those few gifts we have bought for the little people. I can slowly tidy the house and prepare it for the influx we are expecting on the day. I will collect the food I have ordered and make those last minute purchases of fresh good.

Three more sleeps until a relaxing celebration of family and food.

Merry Christmas my friends xx

 Edit: Parent Log: 23/12/16, 8:49pm. My Children are behaving beyond expectation. I am unsure whether to be afraid or proud. For now I choose proud. I have taken them both shopping separately for their sibling and they are both old enough to understand how important it is to keep a secret if it will make the surprise better. 

 

reflection-of-sadness-and-happinessThis post was written back in February. I couldn’t publish it then as I wasn’t in the right place to share. 

I am fantastic at the brave face. Those who have ever suffered with depression and/or anxiety know the one. The one where the smile is firmly planted, but the heart feels like a huge chunk of lead, pulling down shoulders. Those I love will cop an angry glance, a cross word or an all out fucking tirade.

I have various ‘excuses’ for my behaviour, which range from (several) family illnesses, breakdowns in said family communication, fear of not being ‘good enough’- (not quite sure what I need to be good enough for as I am AWESOME) and lack of sleep caused by a combination of over thinking, not getting to bed on time and horrible night sweats.

I came home from yoga this morning thinking woohoo it’s going to be a great day.Within an hour I am losing my shit because no one ever fucking listens. Miss 7 is in tears because she doesn’t want to do her reader that should have been done last night. Master 4 is rubbing her nose in the fact that she has to go to school, but as a preppy, he gets Wednesdays off for a while. Hubby cares that the whole neighbourhood can hear me. I don’t give a fat rat’s arse.

I hate angry me. I don’t want to be angry me. I keep trying to turn it around by telling myself that I cannot change the circumstances, only how I deal with them. Then I fuck it all up again.

I am not setting out to be off my head always happy, that isn’t realistic. I just don’t wish to be the lunatic who loses her shit to be heard by those closest to me.

Ironic, isn’t it, that the same people who push our buttons are the one’s who give us a reason for living. The same beings who will always be there for us no matter what. The people who make us happy and sad, the one’s who’s failures and triumphs give us as much grief or joy as if they were our own.

8 months on….

Lots of meditation, some different pills, ignoring other peoples issues and a life changing decision to change my work life balance. I am feeling better. My now 8 year old has even noticed that I am not yelling. I feel like there are new beginnings in the air.

I just need to work out which path to walk next.