Pop is moving back in.

I am so happy. She has had her fair share of she-problems, and we thought it might be easier if she was here so I could look after her more. (by 'we' thought, I mean her and I. Her father is not too impressed)

Lately things have been so great between us. 

She's grown up a lot, and I find her to be a person i look forward to hanging out with.

Everyone always said how scary having teens is, and they are right. But they are also super fun (and funny) at times too. 

It's been a hard road for Pop.

She has spent many hours in the school counsellors office.

I truly dread to think what she has told him.

But thats how it goes.

We are only 16 years apart, and at this stage in her life, she is like a little friend.

Obviously I have to let her know that at the end of the day I am the Mum, and what I say goes. 

I need her to know I still have the power to butt in and pull rank.

 It seems to be working this way. For now. 

Not everyone is happy about it. 

Her father is probably feeling rejected.

I told him it wasn't personal.

I guess I have to be prepared for the same thing to be said to me when Roo announces he would like to try a stint at Dad's.

I was a baby when I had her.

And I thought I was so grown up. 

I have referred to her as my tornado from time to time. 

It hasn't been easy.

Mostly for her.

I hate that.

Her brother (we call them the 'twins' collectively) is not happy either.

They've been pretty close over the last couple of years.

That, more than anything, breaks my heart.

He lives with his dad, as thigs between him and I were very very difficult for a time, and it seems we get on best not living together.

But I so badly don't want to hurt him either...

No one wins when parents separate 

(well, except the parents...)

sigh. 

She has been so much fun. 

Talking boys.

Talking life.

Me sharing too much.

- as usual.

So, I keep on praying, and hoping, and all things of that manner that it will work out.

That one day my kids will get it. 

That I haven't broken them beyond repair.

That their father hasn't either...

                                      

Here goes. 

O&O xxx

Ooh it's been a while.

Things are good. I think the pills are working.

James made a comment the other day that I seem to be immune to the weird and normally uncomfortable. (or was it awkward)?
Is that bad?

I call it peace making
I feel happy that I can disregard past weirdnesses, and embrace new things.

That is all  :)

Pull up a chair

I decided whilst standing in my bathroom this morning, to write about something I deal with silently.
Well, not completely silently, James gets to see and hear about it, and a few friends that study psych have used it to help them remember facts for the exams..

I have an anxiety disorder.
I am a bubbly, outgoing extrovert with a fairly intact self esteem, and usually have good confidence levels. But I have this problem.

People who meet me probably wouldn't ever expect it.
It's not really something that people are particularly comfortable talking about, although through increased media exposure regarding acceptance of mental health, we are slowly becoming less judgmental.

I have an irrational phobia of vomit and certain illness.
I have had this phobia for as long as I can remember. I couldn't tell you how it started, or recall any particular traumatic childhood experience that shaped my fear.
I used to run out of the room with my hands over my ears if someone was about to be sick.

I got much better as I got older, and of course children throw up from time to time, so dealing with it hands on so to speak was inevitable.

But whilst my phobia of others being sick has waned somewhat, my fear of being sick myself is an ever present 'threat'.

I spent a little under $1000 earlier this year sitting in front of a clinical psychologist who took me through mindfulness CBT. (just google it, it's easier)
It was very helpful, but I found I was having to use the exercises every day and was so tried of feeling panicked all the time.

We had been in a car crash about a week after I stopped seeing the therapist, we were hit by a drunk driver, who wrote of our car and two others. We were fine, as was everyone else, miraculously.

I told myself I wasn't going to be scared of driving.
I worked on it.

I was remarkably better than I expected to be, but still, the adrenaline was pumping through my body all the time, at the smallest things.

One day, I felt unwell.
I didn't want to get out of bed.
I knew this thing was starting to get worse, I wasn't sleeping, and I was fed up.

So, I went to the doctor, and said
"please help me"

I'm not depressed at all, I am very happy, in fact, but I need to not feel like there will be an earthquake everyday. It's that constant anticipation, following you around like an unwanted shadow.
Yelling at you through the unsettled stomach.
Scratching at you like an old, rough jersey... too tight, too irritating
Just unbearable.

So she gave me some pills.

And I have been taking them for about 4 weeks now.
And, I guess, I'm starting to feel a bit better to be honest.

The side effects of anti depressants (also used for panic disorders and anxiety) aren't much fun.
Tired, unsettled stomach (although that is also a symptom of anxiety, which ironically for me comes from the fear of being sick...) and dulling of some other more fun aspects of married life.. ahem.
But I am driving without too much adrenalin now.

I don't feel as scared.

There are moments when I want to run and hide from crowds with too much noise (like a concert I went to recently and discovered, I am now, actually too old for such things)!
That was scary and uncomfortable, but I had to stay and get over it.

I mostly "worry" (classic) that I am letting James down by being this way.
He didn't sign up for this! I wasn't like this when he met, which probably leads him to  the conclusion that it is somehow his fault,
which, of course it is not.
One day I hope to never have to bug him with my complaints.
And be able to feel free again.
I believe it will happen.
And at least he's there beside me holding my hand :)

So, I'll keep taking my pills, and studying hard the subject which is so close to home,
and hope I can say it has all been for something.

Autumn to Winter

It's usually about this time of the year when I do a whingy post about the weather and how I can only survive in a climate that is averaging 20+ degrees everyday.

This year I don't feel that way. Maybe it's because I am blessed with a warm house now, or maybe it's because we had one of the best and longest summers I can remember.

I love winter clothes... that helps.
I think there is something nice about the legit excuse to wrap the kids up in blankets and veg out in front of the tv. (Well, not JUST the kids ahem 2 movies back to back for us yesterday)

Also, the rain.
I love the rain.
I planted a garden this year, and to be honest, I'm all good for the first 2 weeks post planting, but after that I kind of forget about the ever important watering..
So, I really really appreciate the rain!

Sometimes I can't sleep, and lie there wondering why it is that James finds it so easy to slip into blissful REM and I am destined to just listen to the sounds of the house, and him beside me ever so quietly breathing...
At these times, I love the rain even more.

FOMO!!!!

So, it's the wrong reason to start writing again, but I just had to do it,
I totally missed out on the blogger weekend. In part because I don't identify myself as much of a blogger these days, and also because I had all the kids in the weekend, and it was a great time to hang out with my nearly 15 year old daughter.

 

 

We had such a fun time, watching pitch perfect, singing along, eating blue cheese and doritos...
I have no idea what James was doing!!

Then I took her to a clothing swap of EPIC proportions. Fun!!

I wrote this first bit  ^^^ the other day, after seeing all the pictures of the blogging weekend start emerging, and I was having a real feeling of being left out (even though I didn't invite myself in the first place!)

But then a couple of days passed, and things like the Boston Marathon bombing happened, and my cares changed once again.

I have been reading the many stories and accounts of the day, and watching, with perhaps a somewhat morbid interest in the social media frenzy that has ensued in the aftermath.
I went onto instagram and typed in the hashtag #bostonmarathon.... and there were thousands and thousands of pictures.
Most said "pray for Boston"
Don't know how I feel about America's stance on prayer...
I'm not quite sure they really understand what it means..
Nonetheless, it was very interesting to see how fast news (some of it bogus) spreads with the magic of social media.

The fact there has now been a blogging conference on in CHC is amazing to me! What is blogging???!! To me, it is just personal, diary writing, which ironically isn't really that personal when people actually stop by to read (or not)
I realise I have incorrectly used the word ironic.

 I have been studying whist on a 3 week break from uni.
To be honest it hasn't been the MOST productive studying time... in part because I have tried to catch up with some of my friends, and in part because I am super tired from the medication I am now own... (nothing serious, don't worry!)

So The whole concept of blogging for the sake of it has kind of passed me by... till now.

I am so enjoying it, but still secretly terrified of the prospect of one day working as a .... whatever it is that I am going to be.
I know that there is an ultimate plan for me.. (well gosh there better be!) and I just trust that I am taking the right steps to pursue it.


It was raining yesterday as I waited to pick the kids up after school.

It was Roo's day to stay at his Dad's so I was just picking up James's 2.
As I sat in the car I saw Roo cross the road with his big sister in the rain, on the way to the bus stop to catch the bus that will take them an hour to get home. Whilst I sat and waited to pick up 2 kids that are not my own. It was a weird, somewhat sad feeling.
It was normal. A normal Wednesday, but I felt the strangeness of our situation afresh.

My 2 didn't actually notice me watching them.
Was probably just as well.

They are good kids.
We both have good kids. And we are doing the best we can.

Happy New Year!

What an amazing year it had been.

Now in january, with new resolutions, new ideas, new goals, and new priorities.

Gotta a love a fresh slate.


Summer has been awesome.
I am in my element in summer  time.

Surfing, tans, water, and BBQ's.

yes please.

You can't help but be really happy in summer. 

Right?! 

After bearing my soul (ok, a small part of it) to a dear friend who is older and wiser (not OLD and wise, just a bit older) she strongly suggested I share some thoughts about something personal that happened this week.

I value my friendship with her, and I trust her advice, so here goes.

I lost a (different) friend this week, to what I would call a terminal disease; that is
life, and all it's trivialities. Its busyness, its change,  and its seasons.

There are so many things that I have felt over this.
Part of me was relieved.
Part of me felt like I had let myself down by not being honest when the first signs of resentment started showing, but the other part of me wondered how I had managed to not be aware of checking in with the friend, and seeing how she was doing.

I didn't know, because I wasn't told, but mostly because I think stopped asking.

I let this one slide, because I honestly think I thought it was in the too hard basket.
Some things used to be so easy, and it had become such, that it was no longer easy.

That out loud, sounds terrible. If it was a marriage, you wouldn't just throw it away when it got too hard...
But thats how it felt. Too hard. Little niggles of annoyance here and there, building up, so that faced with the prospect of having to talk about these things, I would rather skulk into the corner and not deal with it.

I feel that this makes me a coward.
I am, in this situation, prepared to wear that hat.

Seasons change, and people move, ebb and flow.
This was the case, as it was happening naturally.

But it doesn't stop the fact that I should have been braver.
It wouldn't make for a better outcome necessarily, but it would make me a better person.

These are lessons that I am taking notes on.
Everyday things will always have some wisdom in them if you are prepared to look...

We may never be able to be the same again,
and I acknowledge that in my apparent apathy towards the relationship, I have caused serious hurt, from which I will ask forgiveness from God.

Relationships should never have to be a contest over who puts in the most effort.
It should be that when you are invested in that relationship, it doesn't even seem like effort.
Distance shouldn't be the issue.
Letting go of the little things should be a priority.

But here I am.
Minus one friend, who at one point in my life, meant damn near everything.

And I have to make peace with myself for my part, and let go of the things that hurt me.
Bidding farewell, and peace. For I would always wish her well, and hope that she finds the answers to the questions that have plagued her spirit.

What else to do?.........