This weekend was a long weekend here in WA. For the most part we had a quiet little time mainly due to the fact that I caught the flu from my flu shot bastard. We did make it out of the house on Sunday morning though as I was going a little stir crazy.

I have been complaining for a while now that since I am the only girl I spend a lot of time playing cars or football or trucks or dinosaurs and not nearly enough time having tea parties. So my beautiful boys treated me to a tea party on the river and it was awesome!!


It was so nice to sit back with my tea and enjoy the views of the river and hang out with my two favourite people...


Aren't they cute? MM was super excited that he and daddy were both wearing red jumpers. These things are very important when you are three. I was super excited because I love love love tea and pretty things and vintage stuff and this tearoom was all decked out in vintage charm and I was totally in heaven.


After the tearooms they took me back to bed to sleep off the rest of the flu- which frankly I think has only served to make it stronger bloody bugs. But my little excursion was certainly the highlight of our three days off. I think MM's highlight was having his uncle and his 3 big boy cousins over for dinner and riding scooters. I think hubby's was probably being able to go to the pub Saturday afternoon for a "baby head wetting session"- friends of ours - we are not still wetting MM's head or anything weird like that.

What was your weekend highlight?

Joining in with Jess from Diary of a SAHM for #IBOT

Some people are frightened of spiders, for some people it's the dark or even just change or the unknown. My biggest fear is mediocrity. I am frightened that somehow I will wake up one day and realise that my life has up and passed me by, and I just settled. Settled for something mediocre and dull. Settled for a life I didn't really want because it was there and it was easy.

 I almost did this when I was young and stupid (given that I am still young I'll change that to young-er and stupid-er) and I got married at 21. To an idiot. That I didn't love (I didn't fully realise this at the time- but I now know this as I am infinitely wiser). I knew deep down something wasn't right but I squished that feeling up into a little ball and shoved it into a dark cob-webby recess of my mind and ignored it. It made a few valiant attempts to be heard - like the full blown body chills the night before the wedding that even a steaming hot shower couldn't warm up (I thought I was getting the flu) or even the fact that I inexplicably started crying on the morning of the wedding and couldn't stop for about 45 minutes (the looks from my bridesmaids were priceless during that time) but I soldiered on and married I was. I endured 12 months and 2 weeks of the crapiest excuse for a marriage that I can think of (thinking that it was a life sentence- torture in itself) before I was rescued.

Knights in shining armour come in many different shapes and sizes and surprisingly mine came in the form of a young maiden- also known as my husbands girlfriend. She called me one day and told me that she thought it had gone on long enough. She had thought of saying something the day of the wedding, but thought better of it last minute. She thought maybe now after 12 months and 2 weeks of him not telling me, that maybe she should. I whole-heartedly agreed with her. And so I was set free, to try again -with lessons learnt.

I was lucky. I had made a mistake that could have landed me with a "less-than" life. I was scared of being alone because I didn't think I was strong enough or brave enough to face life on my own. I didn't think I would ever find someone to love me in a real way because I didn't yet love myself. It took my life turning on its head for me to realise that in fact I was strong- stronger than I thought possible. I was brave too and many other wonderful things that I hadn't known about myself. I was lucky that I had the opportunity to find this out. I did learn from my mistakes and I vowed never to settle again.

It is now several years later and I am married to the man of my dreams. The lead up to the wedding was a time of anticipation and joy. There were no 'cold feet' or bouts of tears- just smiles and happy thoughts (and the occasional bridezilla-esque moment). I don't see my marriage as a life sentence but as a privileged existence. I get to share my world with my best friend and overall favourite person. My marriage is a testament to fact that the benefits of being true to yourself are infinite.

I used to wish that my first marriage never happened. I never thought I would say this but  I am grateful for it. If I had been fortunate enough to sail through life and meet my beautiful husband and have the happy marriage from the outset I may never have learnt what can happen when you settle. I may have been in danger of doing it with other aspects of my life and as a result ended up with the middle of the road, boring existence that I am so scared of. Now I have a little piece of my heart, that though healed is still scarred. That scar reminds me not settle. As long as I heed its warning I know I'll live happily ever after.


What life lessons are you grateful for?

Linking up with Kate from Kate Says Stuff for Thankful Thursday :-)

This morning I was treated to a beautiful mothers day event at MM's daycare and a very happy face when I said I would be there:


Firstly there was some time for play. It was such a treat to be able to see MM interacting with his little friends and an insight into what the average day looks like for him- whilst I am slaving away at work :-). It was lovely to see him so comfortable there and clearly having a great time:


And then there were cupcakes to decorate:

And morning tea to eat and enjoy:

But the biggest treat came in a form that I was not expecting. Some validation that can only come from people going through the same thing as you. I was afforded a rare (for me) opportunity to speak to some of the daycare mummies that have kids the same age as MM. It seems that I am not the only person experiencing the tantrums, defiance, door slamming and other generally 'not so nice' behaviour that my usually adorable son has been displaying lately. I cannot even begin to tell you the relief that I am feeling right now.

I have just been given the gift of knowing that I am NOT the worlds worst mummy, I am NOT doing absolutely everything wrong and this difficult stage WILL pass. Hallelujah!

Happy Mother's Day Mummies.

Today I have my 'serious pants' on as my husband likes to say, whenever I stop laughing at his usually funny jokes. Yesterday I wrote a fairly light hearted post about my post-wedding come down as being the reason for me feeling so flat. After careful contemplation I feel there may be more to my 'flatness' than simply grieving for my 'bride to be' status.

Mothers Day. It's everywhere. This probably isn't the worst thing in the world for most of you and to be honest since becoming a mum myself it has definitely taken on a new light in my own eyes. It's still hard though. I am not sure if I've ever mentioned this on here before or not but my mum died when I was a baby. I was three months old and she was nearly 18. It was a tragedy. It is hard to explain to someone the grief you feel over losing a mother that you can't remember. Many people assume that it is not difficult at all. That's not true - I believe the grief is different but yes it is still difficult, it is still real and it still hurts.

I haven't lost a person that I can remember, no. I haven't lost someone that used to take me places or make me laugh, brush my hair or hug me when I was sad. Except I have. Growing up I used to dream of all those things. Of someone who would listen to me about my day at school, or watch me in the school play. I dreamt of someone who would think I was wonderful no matter what I did or said or what I grew up to be. I dreamt of a mum. To rub salt in the wound (just a little), my sister had a mum. My step-mum, she was all the things to my sister that I would've liked my own mum to be. Loving, supportive (in her own way), interested. She believed my sister to be the most amazing, funny, beautiful child that was ever made. She just didn't feel the same way about me. I'm not going to go into the step-mum saga here as it is a story for another day but suffice to say that this made me long for my mum even more. Long for a different life.

Ninety-five percent of the time my mum not being around is a non issue now. Over time I have learnt to accept it as just the way it is. Every now and then though, I wake up and instead of feeling like a grown up, 28 year old mother of one, I feel a little bit like a sad, frightened, lonely five year old who is aching for her mummy. Mothers day is one of those days.

I am experiencing the mother of all come downs. I was on a massive adrenalin high and now nothing. I've gone cold turkey off the good stuff and I have no idea what to do with myself. My wedding took over 12 months to plan- this equals 12 months of obsessing thinking about every little detail from dresses to stationary to music and now it is over.

In the three weeks since I have been married I have come up with a number of new plans to occupy myself and perhaps give myself a little hit of adrenalin... These have included but are not limited to redecorating the house, having another baby and (and this was my favourite of all favourites) buy a villa in Bali and relocate the family. Unfortunately all of these options have been vetoed by my new husband (although he did allow me one room of the house as a 'compromise').

How long does it take to get back to normal? If this goes on much longer I have been advised that we will make Kim Kardashian look like the poster child for long marriages- I am driving him crazy!

If you wanna re-live my glory days with me the photo's are here - My wedding photo's

This is my first time joining in with Jess from the Diary of a SAHM's

I think I have made it pretty clear that I am no culinary genious- however I can throw together a quick tasty meal that both Man and Child will happily devour. This little gem was tried and tested on Friday night and considered a big success in our household- therefore will probably make the regular rotation of after work meals until met with protests that they just can't eat it again :p

5 Minute Fried Rice

Ingredients:
Sun Rice 2 Quick Cups Chicken Rice (x2)
250g Shortcut Bacon
1 Bunch spring onions 
1 cup of bean shoots
1 baby tin of baby corn
1 tsp minced garlic
1 tsp minced ginger
1 egg
1 tbs soy sauce
2 tbs olive oil

Method:

Heat oil in frying pan on med-high
fry off the spring onions, garlic, ginger for 1 minute
add diced bacon and cook together for 1-2 minutes
whisk egg and add to frying pan (push aside bacon and onions) to cook your omelet. Break up and mix through.
Add corn and bean shoots.
Microwave your rice 2 cups at a time for 1 minute each and then add to pan
Stir until combined and heated through.

Serve. (should serve 4 large-ish serves).

You can add more vegies to this- this is just what we had in the fridge. The verdict was 'pretty tasty- I like it' despite my husband's mocking call of "look out mum's taking shortcuts again" as I was cooking it :-)

Do you have any 5 monute meals that your family just love?

Without Further Ado....

So lovelies, I am back! And now I am married. If you happened to notice (or not- that's ok too) my absence in April it was because I was off to Bali (magical place that it is) to get married and have my honeymoon - if you can call a holiday with a three year old tyrant-in-training a honeymoon.

Now I am obviously still new at this blogging business as I very stupidly left all the photography of the trip up to others- and am now still waiting on photos to share with you all- especially of the all important wedding. The wait is nearly over though- I should have some up over the weekend along with the *wedding video* - see don't say I don't deliver :p ...

In the mean time I can share a couple of happy snaps from the holiday portion of our trip...

Fun was had by everyone...

As you can see we all enjoyed ourselves immensely. How relaxed do we look? I am fairly sure that those pretty coloured cocktails had an awful lot to do with that :-)

We also had some notable wildlife encounters... (Don't worry none of these were just 'roaming around' or anything.

Yep that is what it looks like...

Can you believe that elephant statue. Obviously I am all 'mature and shit' now that I'm married as I totally lost it laughing over that statue. This is what you are greeted with upon entering the Elephant Park in Taro. I am sure it has made for some pretty awkward family convo's over the years. We told MM they were 'playing'... We have some more cool pics with animals to come - I actually got to hold a baby Orangutan, which was totally amazing!

Well I just wanted to check in and say hi. I've missed the blog and am glad to be back! Stay tuned for the wedding pics and video next week.

P.S. Have you ever been blind sighted at a wildlife park and ended up in a 'sex' talk you had no idea you would have to have? Believe it or not this is not my first rodeo. Once at the Perth Zoo MM and I were confronted by a Baboon with a massive boner... Awkward!

23 days to go and counting. It has dawned on me though, that we are leaving the country in around 16 days and I am not prepared!

I have gone from completely chill and almost serene about the planning to a complete and utter nutcase in about 24 hours. I am not entirely sure what set off this recent bout of panic but it has taken over- with a vengeance! I woke up this morning with an overwhelming need to confirm every single detail. I absolutely lost my shit, just on reading an email from the wedding coordinator which indicated she hadn't recorded ALL of  my song choices.

I have realised that we still don't actually know who is coming and who isn't coming to the wedding and which of these people are bringing their children. Given that this is the case I am panicked about feeding said children. Even though that is completely irrational as I am sure that the venue will accommodate even at late notice.

I decided a while back that I was going to take my dress to the alterations place in the shopping centre as it is very simple and they assured me they just need a week. Now that I am 3 weeks out I am completely shitting myself that it is too late (despite what they said) and I'll be stuck with 2 dresses that don't fit- one is way too big as I have lost weight and the reception dress is too small as I didn't lose enough weight. Oh holy hell I am going to have a million wedding dresses and nothing to wear.

I am freaking out over the fact that we have not purchased luggage yet (and do not own a suitcase between us that is not falling apart- this from two fairly well travelled people?). I am concerned that when we do pack I am going to forget one of the 1000 things I need to take with me (and yes, I am having a destination wedding to avoid the need to be stressing about the details). I am having visions of putting on my (ill-fitting) dress and promptly realising that I have no hairpiece, jewellery, wedding rings, garters, purses etc.

I had a nice long convo with my sister last night- who happens to be my bridesmaid. She reminded me about Bali belly. I went to the docs to get shots for Bali but he never mentioned you can get a Bali Belly preventor and so none of us have taken one. I am now having frequent episodes in which I panic that the whole wedding party has been taken down by food poisening and the wedding is cancelled or worse turned into "that scene" (you know the one) from the movie Bridesmaids.

So I am going to have to get us all packed off to the doctors for the Bali Belly preventor- and some anti anxiety meds whilst I am there! Did you panic and stress over the details of your wedding? Did anything actually go wrong? Did you care?

When I was eighteen I was a freelance Makeup Artist. I had a really irregular income and schedule and it was kind of all over the place but I loved it. I also thought it was ok because it seemed to fit with what I thought was appropriate for an 18 year old.

When I dropped out of uni to figure out what I really wanted to do when I grew up, I thought it would be a good idea to add beauty therapy skills to my resume to kind of stabilise the income a little. So off I went to beauty school and got myself a nice fancy diploma to hang on the wall. This seemed to do the trick for a few years- I even opened up my own Makeup & Beauty Studio. It still just didn't seem very grown up. I was in my twenties by now and felt that I should have a "career" not a "job" and makeup and beauty just felt a bit like a "job". My ambitious little self wasn't satisfied with this and my insecure self was worried about what people might think.

I had told myself that I was going to figure out what I wanted to "be" and then go and "be" it. I just got a little sidetracked and hadn't really thought about what that was- for a few years. So to make up for lost time I decided what I was going to become. Without any real thought. Just plucked the idea out of the air and ran with it. I was going to be a Financial Adviser. I didn't actually know what a financial adviser was or did day to day but it sounded really grown up. Like a career.

The next week I decided to apply for a job in a bank- because banks employ financial advisers. If I worked somewhere that employed financial advisers, I would be one step closer (technically, I suppose) to being a financial adviser. Luckily for me I got the job- I am actually still a bit surprised at this as I do recall asking in the interview about the uniform and upon hearing their answer, exclaiming "that is excellent- I look great in all those colours!". I mean I was joking (mostly) but it probably wasn't really job interview material. Anyhoo... I got the job and set about learning how to become a financial adviser.

I must have impressed someone there (probably by how well the uniform complemented my complexion) because within 12 months I was working along side a financial adviser as their support staff with a view to learning the job whilst I studied (on their dime) to get my qualifications. So I got my wish- here I am now with my grown up job (which luckily for me I turned out to be half decent at), sick with nostalgia about the days when I was 18 and didn't have to work 9-5 and got to be creative and do what I love. Oh Boy.

So I do still do makeup artistry. I work on the weekends and do people's weddings (mainly) and it's great and fulfils that creative side of me. But I am knackered as I do work full time in a fairly demanding job and then come home to my 3 year old and be mummy (btw this is also a fairly demanding job) and then go and do makeup on the weekends. I turn down a lot of work as I can't do anything during the week and photographers are often approaching me with weekday shoots that I have no hope of making.

I have also just added in spray tanning to the "beauty" side of things I do as I am looking to increase the ways I can earn money from home. After all that effort and years of hard work to get the "grown up" job, I am now working my butt off trying to figure out how to make it go back to how it was before.

You see I am older now. Hopefully wiser. I have now been taught some valuable lessons about what is important in life. I now know that time with my adorable son and work/life balance is much more important than whether or not people think you have a grown up career or a silly job playing with makeup.

It hasn't been all for nothing though. I learned a lot about myself on my quest to be a grown up. I learned that I am really determined and that I can work really hard and that I can create my reality- if I want to. I also met the man I am about to marry, which I am thankful for every single day. I do think it is a little bit funny that I seemed to have gone full circle in only 10 years.

MM is happy this morning and I sing "twinkle little star" with him in the shower to distract him from my slumped shoulders and bloodshot eyes. He thinks if mummy is sad then he did something wrong so I am trying to preserve his happiness, his innocence and hope he will never know this sadness.

I am sitting here lost. Empty. In a trance like state, knowing I should be working but unable to find the focus. People are coming past my office and saying 'good morning', I am confused by this and unable to make my voice work in order to return the greeting.

My chest is tight and feels like it is in the grip of a vice which is being intermittently tightened. I get used to the new level of tightness and someone winds the vice. My eyes are stinging from holding back tears- I cannot cry at work. 'Good Morning'.

Is it? Will it ever be again? Can it be? When things as horrible as this can, will and do happen? How can you make sense of something like this? A little baby, so beautiful, so perfect. With a mummy, a daddy and a big sister loving him so completely. Begging him, begging God and bargaining with any higher power every day to let him get better and come home. An extended family; nanas, grandads, aunties and uncles all watching on in fear and disbelief that this little family should be faced with such tragedy... again. How much can one family take? How much of their broken hearts remain after the first tragedy. What will be left after this one?

My heart aches for my brother. How can he continue to be after this. Let alone be strong for his daughter and wife. My soul is crying for his wife who has been so amazing this last three months. Getting up everyday and going to the hospital to sit by her son. Watching and waiting. Learning all there is to know about CF in order to fight with the doctors to keep trying and give him every chance. To stroke his head and let him know that mummy is there. Loving him,praying for him, protecting him. I think of her pain this morning when she gets up, only to realise, that she has nowhere to be. I can't face it, I have to look away.

I think of the platitudes that people often bandy about in times of sadness and hardship- "everything happens for a reason", "time heals all wounds". None of it helps, none of it even makes sense. It just makes me more fucking angry.

I want to help, I want to be able to stop their hurt- just as I know FI is looking at me helplessly, wishing he could stop mine. There is nothing I can do. Nothing I can say. There are no words.

Image Credit

If you know me in "real life" you will know how big it is for me to quit sugar. Sugar is what keeps me going. It fuels my rants, is responsible for adding that extra 'pep' to my manic outbursts. It adds a little colour and sunshine into my day. There is probably more sugar in my arteries than blood (though it's probably pretty neck and neck with the caffeine- I am quite the picture of health). Asking me to quit sugar is like asking a heroin addict to stop well doing heroin...

BUT here I am. On day one of no sugar. How did this happen? Frankly I blame that witch Sarah Wilson. She just made so much goddamn sense bitch. I couldn't ignore it. It all started with some morbid curiosity, I was reading Blundermum's blog - which is quite good BTW and I saw her little stat counter at the bottom which said "I've Lost 13kgs by Quitting Sugar". 13kgs you say? That's very impressive- naturally I wanted to know more. Further stalking investigation revealed that she is following Sarah Wilson's Quit Sugar in 8 weeks program. So of course I couldn't stop there- I had to follow the rabbit down the hole.

$15 later and I am opening up the Quit Sugar in 8 Weeks Guide- ready to scoff and ridicule and completely reject the whole idea as nonsense. Ready to continue on the way I am, feeling validated and secure in my life choices.  Except I didn't. Instead I started to relate to what was being said:

Never knowing when to stop eating sugar- check
Slim arms and legs with a massive spare tire around the middle - check
Not sleeping well- check
Aches, pains and inflammation- check
Moody and anxious- check

Oh crap- she's describing me! I read on with a slightly more open mind until by the end I am completely converted and have no option  but to shop for all the ingredients on the shopping list and get rid of all the sugar in the house. Yep that's right, if I'm going down, I'm taking them down with me.

I am looking forward to a new sugar free me. To the day when I can say- chocolate? Oh no thanks I'd rather not - and actually mean it! I am taking my life back. I will not be ruled any longer by my sugar addiction and if I happen to lose a sneaky 13kgs along the way- well I won't object. Apparently this also means giving up fruit and honey and sweeteners...I am not giving up my daily diet coke though- not for anyone. Let's not get crazy here...

Have you quit something you never thought you would? How did it go?

My little boy is turning 3 this week. It has become increasingly obvious of late that he is growing up. He is no longer a baby but a little boy. In honour of his little self I have compiled a list of 10 things that make me melt inside:

1. I love that he giggles and says "You make me funny" when I make him laugh  
2. I love that he says I am a princess and he is my ham-son prince 
3. I love that he already has an entourage. Right now this consists of White Blanky, Mickey, Blue Teddy, Elephant and Finn McMissile. The entourage has been recently culled as it was making bedtime quite the ordeal.
4. I love that he gives his toys such ingenious names eg Red Car, Orange Car, Hippo, Blue Bear etc. I may have started this trend but he has followed it in good stead.
5. I love that he tells me to "say 'Yay' and Clap mummy" when he "does wees" but will tell me "Don't cheer me" with his little policeman's 'stop' hands when he sings his 'ABC's.
6. I love that he lets me do "snuggly wuggly" cuddles when he thinks no one is looking
7. I love that he calls cuddles "cuggles". I hope he never ever stops doing that.
8. I love that I am his best friend (except for Daddy. And Samarth. And Henry). But STILL.
9. I love his impressions of me and daddy. Daddy's are particularly funny and involve him tucking his chin into his neck and saying in a very serious voice "Hi I am Daddy".
10. I love the way his little body fits perfectly into mine when we are having a snuggle. He is growing at a very rapid rate and I have a feeling I may need to enjoy this whilst I can.

Every age is special and I am sure MM will continue to make my heart sing for many more years to come. I think this is going to be my new tradition. Each birthday I am going to write a new '10 things I love about MM' list. Hopefully this way I'll remember all of his gorgeous little nuances for ever.

What traditions have you created for your kids?

I look into those big brown eyes and see my own flashing back at me. The same level of intensity, the same steely determination. Except, I think to myself... He hasn't had 28 years of life knocking him down a peg or two. He has the stamina and ego of youth  to see this thing through. This could go on for a while. Oh My God.

In case you can't tell I am a little grumpy today. In fact FI, myself and MM are all a little grumpy today. Most people would be if woken up at 5.05am by a 'cock-a-doodle-doo'. In case you are wondering, I'll clear a couple of things up for you... No I don't live on a farm, Yes it IS still dark at 5.05am and no I don't have any pet chooks.

My anger is quite squarely directed at Dora. You know the one- the annoying little explorer who can't actually manage to do anything for herself - "I need YOUR help- will YOU help me?" Umm no. No I won't. Not ever again. F' Off. You have taught my previously delightful nearly 3 year old angel, to wake me up at the crack of dawn with a VERY pleasant (please note the 'sartalics') "cock-a-doodle-doo". And WHY was he up so early?? Well isn't it obvious? He wanted to watch Dora. Arrrrggggggggghhhhhh.

When I explained that in fact it was the middle of the night and Dora isn't on in the middle of the night, MM decided it was entirely appropriate to have a complete tanty. Fun morning.

Is anyone corrupting your perfectly well behaved, innocent children??

Hmmm I probably could've asked myself this question about 250 muffins ago. Anyone who has never had to lie on the floor flopping around like a fish on the side of a pond just to inch their 'miracle' jeans up over their massive arse, may tell you it is. I can now categorically tell you that it isn't. Nothing is.

All this time I have agonised over how to lose weight. How to stop eating junk food, how to get my butt off the couch and do some exercise in order to make a dent in my weight loss goal- and it all comes down to that one simple question. How did it never occur to me before?

The beauty of this little gem is that it can be applied in so many situations- the happy meal that I just have to have, the 'I can't exercise cos the Kardashians are on' excuse, the cupcake I just 'can't not eat', the 'mmm just 10 more minutes and then I'll get up' sleep-in...

This is going to be my new 'go to'. Everytime I am about to hurtle myself (and my big butt) off the wagon, I am now going to ask first- Is it worth being fat for?

I had therapy last night.

I am emerging from a dark period of postnatal depression that went unrecognised and thus untreated for the first 18 months of MM's little life. I was (I can now admit) still a great mum during this time. I made sure everyday that MM was loved and cared for and protected from anything that could ever hurt him. I was just not the best partner or very kind to myself.

During this time, when I wasn't being mummy, I retreated into myself and let the pain swallow me down into its dreary depths. I wasn't there for FI, I was barely there for myself. I was cruel and harsh and my biggest tormentor. FI (god bless him) was doing his best- he knew I had disappeared but didn't know how to bring me back. My illness was the elephant in the room. The great unspoken. We knew there was a problem- but neither of us spoke about it. But he stuck by me and loved me and here I am. On the otherside.

I began my awakening (that's what it felt like) when my doctor finally got through to me and convinced me to try some medication. I was anti pills, anti admitting there was something mentally wrong and convinced that my illness (which was oddly presenting as physical symptoms a lot of the time) was something systemic that could not be fixed by an anti-depressant. I was wrong.

I spent the next 15 months taking this medication. At first it was like waking from a bad dream. The relief was immeasurable. I steadily improved and began to take my life back. I went back to my 'proper' job, started connecting with people again and rebuilding my relationship. Finally 2 months ago I stopped taking the medication. I can not even believe the effects that this has had. For the last (nearly) 3 years I had been first depressed and anxious beyond belief and then for the most part numb. Numb was defintely an improvement on depressed but was so far from what I am feeling now.

I now have a sad day every now and then. I was sad after my counseling session last night. Since stopping the medication I feel sadness deeply. I have even been known to cry at the news. The emotion (which for so long has been held at bay) creeps up on me and taps me on the shoulder and then scares the sh*t out of me. I find it overwhelming. But I won't go back. Why? Because now I feel joy. Actual, proper joy. When I wake up and feel FI lying next to me, or when MM is giggling that gorgeous giggle- the joy spreads through me and warms my heart. It soothes my soul and makes me happy to be alive. I won't go back.

It has taken me until recently to want to talk about it. Any of it. The moments where I feel I can open up are rare and fleeting. So now I am embracing them. My therapist is relatively new (to me) and I still, even with him, will fill the first 40 mins of our session with inconsequential chatter until I feel the last 5 minutes closing in and then I blurt something out. Something important. Something that could possibly help me heal. So now I know I need to capture the windows of openess and make the most of them. I want to rid my living room of the elephant once and for all and make some more room for me...

Do you ever categorise your memories or experiences? This may sound like an odd question but when I think back to my past and my childhood in particular, I tend to associate my memories of certain times with the weather.

For instance up until I was four I was such a happy little girl. All I wanted was to be told that I was pretty and also to grow up and be a ballerina. My nana and grandad took me to the circus (which to be honest I can't actually remember the circus part- just that I thought acrobats were THE most amazing people ever) and my favourite toy was a A.L.F. doll that said "be there or be square" on demand. I was cherished and doted on and weirdly all my memories of this time of my life are "sunny". I don't mean sunny as in 'Sunny disposition' I  mean actually sun shining with blue skies etc. Now I know that the chances of there not being a single rainy day in four years are slim, but I can't actually remember one.

From the age of 5 to 14 was a different story. These memories are dark skies, cloudy and overcast.This was probably one of the most lonely times of my life. I was isolated from all of those that had led me to believe that I was a little princess and special. Instead I was alone and scared and never quite living up to the expected standard. I became shy and withdrawn and the little girl who used to cry 'look at me- watch me twirl' seemed lost to me forever. Now, I am sure that despite Victoria being known for it's dreary weather- there must have been a sunny day in there somewhere- just not in my memories.

I do find our brains to be the most remarkable of  organs. Capable of manipulating our memories and our realities. I do not know exactly why my brain has chosen the weather- I just hope with everything I have, that the forecast is sunny.

So here I am. Another blogger in the vast sea of blogging. Really, I am just looking for an outlet- a release, a safe place to put all the crazy. Lol I mean is there a safer place than on the internet?

So let me just preface this blog by letting you know (and very cleverly lowering your expectations) that I am no one special, nothing out of the ordinary. Just another 20 something mum, full time employee, part time business owner, part time uni student, fiance, friend, sister and now blogger. Re-reading that last sentence it does sound like I have a lot on my plate- but that is just the way of the world these days isn't it? One is expected to accomplish so much in so little time that it rarely offers you any other options than to pile the plate high and hope to hell you don't drop everything (least of all your sanity).

I can't really know what this blog will be about just yet. I guess it will just take on it's own form when the time is right. Meanwhile I'll just write about life and if anyone reads it, I'll  be grateful that I am not some crazy chic talking to herself :-)