Thoughts on self

Absence

I love my husband, but I love it so much more when he goes away…

I’m really brave writing that, aren’t I??? Considering he’s pretty much the only person who reads all my blog posts (well, at least I think he does)

Don’t get me wrong, I do love him…with every ounce of my being!

But hear me out…(dearest hubby and anyone else bored/foolish/strange enough to be reading this)

Being happy when he’s not here is actually a huge thing for me…

After years of struggling with crippling, infantile behaviour inducing, (and downright inconvenient!) separation anxiety, I am finally free and it feels amazing!

It took a long time, my friends.

Hours and hours of counselling and self reflection, steps forwards, leaps back and with the help of the unwavering love and patience of said husband who was both the unwitting cause and cure to my curse…I finally relieved myself of this burden.

There’s so much more I could say on this subject, in order to accurately convey the whole mess that it (and I) was for all those years…and maybe I will one day…

But for now, I just want to share this little piece of my heart…

To learn to be at home with your thoughts and completely on your own

The old so used and comforting but now a new way’s shown…

To embrace the space that comes from holding a healed heart

To know the joy of leaving fear as you behold your own work of art

When you feel safe and saved and brave…’cause you’ve seen the other side…

Knowing you are both the victim and the victor, the lonely child still inside

Darkness cruel and unrelenting in its bid to be your end

Battles fought and dragon slain, that most feared is now your friend…

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Thoughts on life

Fault lines

You can’t see me, but it’s not your fault Your eyes are closed by fear of sight

Closed to pain

Closed to grief

Closed to reason

You can’t feel me but it’s not your fault Your arms are wrapped tight around your story

Full of reasons

Full of rage

Full of blame

You can’t love me but it’s not your fault as you can’t love yourself

Can’t love

Can’t reason

Can’t apologise

I can only hold me and all my fault

As I see myself
I also see you…

I see

I rage

I apologise

I question

I reason

I grieve

I give up

I hold me tighter, I see myself more

and then, because I don’t know what else to do…

I love us both

Thoughts on life

No white pill

Even the happiest of people get anxious.

Sane people

Normal people

People who do good

It does not discriminate but it does incriminate…

It can creep up on you like an unexpected headache, without reason or cause…when you haven’t drunk too much booze and know you’ve slept well and you really should feel fine…but suddenly it’s there…

And you just can’t understand why your head is throbbing?

Annoying at worst and curable by white pills as best…most of us would choose a headache over this sneaky, consuming and isolating grey haze that can threaten to steal our peace and happiness

…suddenly and uninvited the slowly haze appears…

The walls close in, the room grows small, there’s an echo in your ears

…all alone your companion now a dread of unlived years

As panic, heart beat, races, rises, unexpected fears

Emotions drown, you swallow down a lump of unshed tears…

You still do good

You still do normal

You still try to do sane

But there’s no magic white pill

Only grey…

Until happiness decides

to find you again

Thoughts on life

Hidden doors

I'm driving my son to work, well technically he's driving, but being on his L (learner) plates I still need to accompany him to supervise.

We're driving down a road we've travelled on many, many, many times as it's a main road that runs from our house to the city, work and uni (did I mention…many times??)

As we pulled up at the red light, my head was turned to the left, daydreaming a bit and people watching as I often do…(oh, don't worry…my son is "this close" to getting his licence and a very competent driver) when I noticed a new, tiny alley way splitting the familiar shops in two.

The cutest little narrow walkway that linked the main road to the side street behind.

It was actually jarring

WHAT? Where in the hell did that come from??!

Honestly I've lived in this city for 40 years, I've driven down (or been driven down) this road hundreds of times. Heck, I've even walked down this road and right past this section.

So when did this Harry Potter portal suddenly appear?

Truth

The alley wasn't new. Nope, it's always been there…

But I've never seen it
Because I've never actually looked

I just see the same things I always see…each and every time I travel this road

The things I expect to see

Which got me thinking…

What else aren't I seeing?
What hidden alleys, paths and doors am I missing, as I travel down the road of my life only seeing what I expect to see…what I plan to see.

If I started paying more attention and looked a little more closely to the world framing my road…could I actually find things, people, thoughts and feelings that I didn't know existed?

That I wasn't expecting

Travel the same roads if you must
Daydream all you want…

But don't forget to pay attention from time to time

You never know what you'll find

family, humour, Thoughts on life

Boiling point

I’m not the world’s most patient person.

Not even close

Barking dogs in my street annoy me, I get angry when I hear cars being “revved” unnecessarily in my neighbors driveways

I’m trying to relax to my Chillout Lounge Ambience megamix, thank you very much…

and don’t even get me started on my neighbours late night parties with his Doov Doov mus- no, noise (seriously mate, that’s NOT music!) pounding through my walls til 4am!!

I don’t like noise unless it’s my own. I especially don’t like my neighbours noise.

Okay, perhaps I just don’t like my neighbours

which is weird – seeing as I actually married one – but that’s a whole other story…

Anyway, the house next door always emits strange sounds. It is old, and extremely close to our fence line, which also happens to sit along my bed head

like, literally.

Our bedroom wall is their back fence

When they walk through their house it’s like elephants on parade. When they slam doors it gives me whiplash. And when they run through their back yard it’s like the whole damn zoo is charging.

At my head

While I’m trying to sleep

Did I mention I don’t have much patience??

They always seem to be up late

Not always partying with late music (which is a shame, as at least I could get the cops sympathy on that one)

No…just living

late

…and LOUD

In fact, it almost seems like they deliberately stay quiet, until just before I’m about to go to bed.

I’ve even considered moving, because – seriously – how do you have that kind of conflict resolution conversation?

Ummm, excuse me mate, would you mind terribly ummm – not walking, using your doors or living? Cheers, thanks, oh, and while I’m here can I borrow some sugar?”

Yeah….right!

But the other day I found sweet salvation

Sitting in the lounge quite late at night, I was rejoicing in the realisation that it had finally gone quiet next door and I could, perhaps, actually go to bed and get some sleep before the dawn chorus woke me (oh I forgot to mention…not only are they late night party animals with no taste in music…they also happen to be tradies who develop elephantisis at 5am as well)

With everyone else in my house either in bed or preparing for said activity, the house went deathly quiet as soon as I switched off the TV

Tick

tick

Tick

That’s when I heard it…
The most beautiful sound in the world!

The most God awful rattling, gurgling, popping, wheezing and just plain ANNOYING sound I’d ever had the pleasure of hearing…

And it was coming from my house.

From the side of my house where noisy neighbours live..

From very, very close to the house where I assumed my dear neighbours would now be peacefully slumbering…

Hallelujah!!!

It turns out we own a defective, loud and just plain irritatingly NOISY hot water system

One that could easily wake the neighbours, their dogs and quite possibly the elephants too…

* * *

Almost midnight…

Time to jump in the shower!

Thoughts on life

Losing to win

I thought I knew everything there was to know about winning.

As a child I was always the “achiever”, winning art competitions, succeeding in all areas I applied my little self to and bringing home school reports that resembled Alcoholics Anonymous flyers….yes I was your typical “straight A” overachiever. 

I started ballroom dancing when I was 11 and from the moment my feet hit that sprung floor and I buckled my first (very own!) pair of silver t-bar heels onto pudgy feet I just knew this would be my passion! 

Each and every dance style moved me in a way I couldn’t describe…the old time music felt so familiar, and made me feel like I was a silver screen starlet who’d found herself somehow thrust 40 years into the future.

With Australian and English blood running under my pasty white skin, I shouldn’t have felt so connected to the Cuban beats my dance teacher blasted each time a Cha Cha or Rumba needed to be practiced but to me it felt like home. 

I desperately wanted to be out on the floor, competing in the amateur division! 

Sequins and feathers

Glitter and makeup

Heels and fake tan

…Heaven!

I tried so many times but for some reason I couldn’t stick at it long enough to make it work.

I so wanted to win but I hated to lose even more.

So instead of dancing

Instead of losing

Instead of winning…

I ran

Ran from the anxiety, ran from the fear. Ran from the chance of failure and the possibility of feeling inadequate 

The overwhelming panic of being judged and ridiculed. 

Of not being perfect 

Of not getting it right

Of not doing better than the others (that couldn’t possibly be allowed to happen!)

Of not being good enough

Fast forward 30 years….
I am sitting here with makeup and tan on, dresses packed and heels at the ready. 

It’s been 5 years since I took up competitive dancing again at the sensible, reckless and determined age of 35.

5 years since I made the commitment to my dance partner that we’d be a team and ride the wave together.

5 years of sometimes losing 

5 years of sometimes winning 

5 years of choosing not to run each and every time the fear, anxiety and self doubt arose.

I have learnt to enjoy coming last

It means I have more work to do and something more to achieve.

It does not mean I’ve failed

I stopped losing and started winning the moment I decided to stop running

So today I will just do my best. I hope to do well and it would be lovely if I win…

But if not? 

That’s okay too because I’ve truly already won

Poetry

Silent scorn

Silent scorn, the page’s torn

It sits unsent, unwritten, unthought…

Atop her chest, a weight it rests

Feelings she has often fought

Correcting talk, perfecting walk

Approval always pending…

The apron ties, judgmental sighs

Bitterness descending

No way to win, words under skin

Punishment delayed…

Silent scorn, the pattern’s worn

The game is lost before it’s played