Tag Archives: anxiety

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.