Time Traveller

Today I received a message from myself. A message from the 26th April 2013 version of me. It popped up on my iPhone. It popped up on my Mac. I sent myself a clear message – clear to me because I knew exactly what I had intended for it to mean on it’s arrival today. It was designed in 2013 to activate me today in 2015. It said ….

“Today it clicked”

What the??? Seriously! On this day 2 years ago I decided to set up a calendar event to remind me, convince me that all it takes is one click. One click and whola you are thin. You are successful. You have time and money up your sleeves. One click and you are magically happy, your house is clean and your kids listen to you. Lets be honest though – in all its simplicity that click was really directed at my weight.

What was I doing two years ago that made me come up with this marvellous idea? At what point did I actually think a message from my past self would actually work? My future self maybe but my past self really?? It does, however, show me that two years ago and today are just the same because I’m still as focused now as I was then on the same stuff. What is that quote about insanity …”The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” The simple fact is that I am not willing to work for it. Any of it. I’m lazy.

  

What clicked today was my guilt. Which clicks a lot. Guilt that I didn’t get my kids out of bed to go to the ANZAC dawn service yesterday morning because I was worried my youngest would cause a scene when there was supposed to be silence. Guilty because I sat on the couch for most of the morning, eating on and off but mainly on. Guilty because I saw a person who makes me hate myself and so I came home and ate chocolate. Guilty because I am sitting here typing rather than snuggling with my baby on the couch – but I think the couch has had enough of me today. Guilt because I am still the same as I was in 2013 and even earlier, much earlier than that. Guilt because I sit here whinging when so many others have it worse.

  

Today it clicked just how much I beat myself up still after all this time. Beat myself up because I live in my head – yes we’ve have had this discussion recently! Today it clicked that maybe I don’t really want to change if I haven’t already. Or maybe what’s holding me back is stronger than the result I am chasing or I’m allowing that to be the truth. Like captive Elephants who, from an early age, have a single rope strapped to their ankle. Then as they grow into over a 3000kg creature they still believe that this single rope can hold them back. With the largest brain of any land animal elephants are conditioned to believe this to be true yet they have the capacity, the strength and the brain power to move forward! They just believe they can’t.

 

Why do I live like this. Chained up to beliefs that hold me back. I want to be free!

  

So today I did what any smart land animal would do – I deleted my click. I deleted that fucker right off my calendar of events. This isn’t a magic show. It’s fucken life. I am not David Copperfield and that “magic” is all about illusion anyway! I’m still working on this…. This is far from over!

One love

DRK xxx

Heartless. Thinker.

When you’re a thinker, like me, you are also a forgetter. You have so much thinking going on in your brain you can’t remember the thoughts of moments before. You are always starting “afresh” with a clear purpose so lying around the house are plenty of journals, notebooks and files with clearly stated goals and how to achieve them, to do lists, to don’t lists but then you turn the pages and there’s nothing else written. Maybe a little doodling – those unmanifested thoughts – possibly some Day 1 dieting and exercise information all written with good intentions. Being a thinker means you can think about your hated weight all day long while still thinking about the worries of your children, what they’ll grow up to be, what the hell is for dinner, whether to go left or right at the intersection, if your friend is really doing okay and what you’d write a novel about if you had time.

Being a thinker like me means you don’t live in your heart. And when you do “go there” it’s for other people’s journeys, their pains, hardly ever for yourself and when you do it’s because you have “thought” your way there. Being a thinker like me means you can cry deeply when your friends are in any type of emotional pain, rarely for our own. You talk about it but you don’t feel it. Sure you can still cry after an argument. You can hyperventilate to a friend about something that fucked you off. You can sob when you watch a sad movie whether it’s a true one or not but still your own story is emotionless. It’s “just a story” that you put on repeat.

When you are a thinker you forget to breath because breathing would cause you to relax. Breathing brings an opportunity from the neck down to open up. Opening up scares you. Opening up means you have to feel real stuff and feeling real stuff is scary. What if feeling real stuff means you lose it and never regain consciousness, hell worse still you become completely conscious and everything you’ve known life to be changes. What if those changes aren’t what you thought they would be.

Being a thinker means this post is just thoughts. It’s talking about feelings but not feeling those feelings. Being a thinker means feeling those feelings is rare.

One Love
DRK xxx

Decisive Gene

I missed it. I was not born with it. Can’t find it or buy it and I’m pretty sure dynamic lifter isn’t going to help me grow it. I get frustrated when I realize I am missing the decisive gene and trust me it frustrates me more than it frustrates you … well, I think, maybe, I don’t know, what do you think?

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So as a fair warning to you all don’t ever ask me where we should go for lunch, what hairstyle I’m going for or what I’m going to be when I grow up. I have no fucking idea! My decisions are generally based around other people’s decisions “Lunch? Oh where ever you’d like to go…. Mexican? Sure that sounds perfect!” Perfect even though I know I actually don’t really like Mexican and I will definitely end up with severe indigestion for the remainder of the day, fun fun. But the indigestion discomfort is quite often worth not having to have made a decision God forbid it be the wrong one.

I walk into the salon with a dozen different pictures saved on my phone all thanks to Pintrest. They are all different but kinda same-same too. But when that question comes rolling off the hairdressers tongue while she’s fiddling with my hair “Sooo what are we doing today?”my mind freaks out and erases the half assed decisions I think, I thought I had made so instead my mouth fumbles out some shit about not knowing and what would she recommend.

As for my life. Well, once, I wanted to be a hairdresser. Then a writer. Then a poet. A child care worker. An Interior Designer. A fashion stylist. An eBay store owner. A healer. A successful bullshitter. A “happy” stay at home mum. A psychic. A big lotto winner. An Internet sensation selling something that was, well sensational and to some degree I’ve done them all but no firm decision on which one I want to do for a week let alone for life. Well, except for when I decided I wanted to be big lotto winner but there was confusion with the Universe on this when I said big. See? Now that’s why I don’t bother making decisions!

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Even when we are simply driving along and my husband asks “Left or right?” I panic! “Um I’m not sure. We could go left but then it might be busy in town and we might get all the red lights…. Ummm so maybe we should go right, right? Because there’s no stop lights around the back tracks and that might be quicker. But left is…” He’s turned left already not waiting for my indecisive tangent to end. Left or right. One to two minutes difference. Hardly a life changing decision right there!

Being indecisive means you miss out on things. You talk to yourself a LOT. You frustrate your spouse and friends. You take way too long to say yes or no to really simple questions and when you do you don’t feel confident and you may will again change your mind. You always hesitate or are usually in two minds about things. It’s real fun! Strap it together with impatience and watch this shit get real!

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Even now I am feeling impatient with this lengthy post and am indecisive about finishing……. Hell, should I even post this? Yes do it! No wait just read it again for the 15th time! Ok maybe now you can…. Oh hang on a sec wait ….. Oh fuck it …..

One Love,

DRK xxx

Dreams & Dirty Thoughts

My Hubbie and I travelled home through the Swan Valley the other day which can only be described as lusciously dewy, especially in the mornings. We’ve done this trek many times and as usual it stirs up some long sitting dreams within us. It always starts out the same with my husband declaring that he would love to give up his day job and instead build wooden wagon wheels to sell Australia wide. Yes you read that right, wooden wagon wheels to sell Australia wide. He’d also love to own a draft horse, he says, and have a (home-made) carriage so we could hire it out for weddings occasionally….. It’s quite a sweet dream I’m just not sure how profitable wagon wheel selling is since… well since man invented cars?! But who am I to judge says the girl who is hoping to invent mosquitoes that suck fat.

We, also always discuss our common dream of having a B&B – mine luxuriously OTT with everything you could ask for and more (more as in stuff that is pretty useless but pretty all the same) and his is an upgraded version of mine site donger with the basic necessities and definitely no pretties. Our “matching” dream of running a B&B usually ends there because that is where my even crazier visualisations take over and my mouth follows suit. I have always said if I could attach a printer to my brain it would help people understand what I can ‘see’ in there – my next important invention alongside fat sucking mosquitoes… So before I know it I am telling him our B&B will be on lush, green acreage – totally realistic in this sunburnt Australian country! It is also purpose built for wedding one stop extravaganzas! By one-stop I mean there will be a stone ‘chapel’ which is cute yet totally practical, a reception hall decked out with all the mod-cons but with plenty of character and breathtaking beauty and of course, accommodation for the bridal party, guests and a kick-ass bridal suite for the lovebirds. I also added at the end of the conversation that we would also need a big bus to transport people back into town after the wedding… At this point my husband looked at me funny. Yep, that visual brain of mine got totally carried away confusing dreams with reality….. But that is so totally me and they are the luxurious additions to his simple dream of a bed and breakfast, wagon wheels and a horse drawn cart…. One Powerball and we can have it all … Except the year round lush green grass – courtesy of the Aussie summers!

While I had my hubbie in a chatty mood, which is rare because he’s generally pretty quiet, I asked him if he would like to inspire my next post for me. I asked him to think of a sentence to start me off or tell me something he’d heard/read/seen recently that was funny. Something that would get the writing juices flowing for the next four hours in the car. Well, surprisingly, his eyes lit up, a smile that I have seen a billion times spread across his face and his head started making fast paced whirring noises but as he opened his mouth to speak I interrupted him, as all good wives should, and said “It can’t be dirty, ok?” … Instantly his eyes lost their twinkle and the cheeky smile vanished from his face and I could tell he was trying real hard to think of something clean because the whirring noise turned into clanging and banging, I’m pretty sure I saw a puff of smoke come out of his nose too. That part of his brain hasn’t been used for awhile. Silence then followed for a moment as I left him to catch his thoughts until finally he said, “Nup. I got nothing! Unless you want to tell them about my dream the other night. You know the one with me and you and the really flexible girl on our dining table?” Yep and nup! I do NOT want to write a post about that. I am all good for classy girls swearing but dirty mens talk should be left in the shed as should womens unsugar-coated venting be left at the coffee shop because isn’t that all we do all day ladies?!

So, then this is it. This is your husband inspired post. A moment, a small slice of conversation between a husband and wife as they discuss their dreams and visions for the future. A post about our dreams and his dirty mind.

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He really is!

 

One love,

DRK xxx

Master of Exercise – Master of Health – True Story!

My health is important to me. It used to be (used to be as in a couple of weeks ago) just about my weight – that illusive number – but due to lots of recent (like really recent) awakenings I now know I want to feel healthy coz, quite simply, I can’t feel 60kg … That’s just a number it isn’t a describing word, or as those smart people say, an adjective. You cannot “feel” 60kg unless you have really, really big giant hands and you are cradling 6 x 1kg bags of loose potatoes. So in keeping with this feeling healthy (which really is something you can feel) I’ve upped the exercise in the last three weeks, not to punish myself like in previous lives but because I actually enjoy (yeah I said it) the way the end result makes me feel – there’s that feel word again, ah think I’m going to vomit! So, yeah, a few weeks of health awareness means I am definitely now your Guru! Read on and you’ll see why!

No approval neededUpping exercise started with walking every morning with my Mum and pushing my 2 year old in the pram. We initially started with 3kms around the blocks which are pretty flat surfaces, then we have upped it to 4kms using big hills as the non-toxic heart starters. Doing it every morning means my day starts out right (I can’t speak for my Mum but she does come along willingly, I promise) and as a bonus it gets the noisy early riser out of the house before he wakes everyone else up!

One day I was not feeling completely satisfied with my morning walk so I decided to add some treadmill action in at lunchtime.  I started with a walk/jog and then days in I pushed it to interval training of walking at a steep incline and jogging/sprinting on the flats. Once I had managed to conquer 5km with some left in my tank I decided to push it further again by adding 25 push ups, 20 tricep dips and a yoga(ish) style cool down and a blessed thanking to the universe to end my sessions.

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Yep, I’m hardly graceful or flexible but I give it a go!

So I’m thinking, “Awesome, I got this fitness shit nailed!” and decided to push myself to the next level. I’ve been a fitness head before so I was feeling like this was me making my big fit chic comeback…

Now if you are a friend or a follower of my blog you know that I have certain weight and body issues which means I own every fitness, health and food app you can ever think of to further confuse and frustrate me. There’s this one app in particular that I knew I had to give a red hot go, possibly because I had already given it a super review just to convince the world that I do indeed use these apps… The phone app in question? PT in My Pocket. Which is as it says … A Personal Trainer in your pocket or palm of you hand or in my case placed precariously on the edge of my bed end. I picked a 10 minute session with the best intentions of doing it twice maybe even three times if I was still feeling it. And I did it. I finished it….. Once. Then I spent the next 1.5hrs dry retching, shaking like a leaf and unable to sleep – yeah I thought it was a good idea to do it at 9 o’clock at night, I’m not just a pretty face right, I’m smart too!

Days later I am still reeling from this bitch called PT in My Pocket. I have throbbing pains in places that shouldn’t throb unless you’ve had a wild fifty shades of grey night ….. with your entire neighbourhood! And there are more aches than the osteoarthritis clinic waiting room on pension day. These are not the good aches and pains of oh-shit-I-cant-sit-down-coz-my-muscles-are-so-freaking-awesome type but more like the uh-oh-I-think-you’re-getting-a-bit-too-ambitious-and-old-to-be-a-try-hard-hardcore-fit-chic-oh-shit-was-that-a-tendon pain.

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I’m hurting. So is my pride. Where has my awesomeness gone? Where has my 45 minute training without vomiting gone? 10 minutes! Seriously?! Now I have to wait until the bursitis in my knee settles down AND I have pay for a physio appointment to help get me back into … well into some type of normal human like stance AND I have to remember to keep my mouth from opening up and whining otherwise my husbands ears might bleed….

There is so much to be grateful for … Must. Stop. Whining!

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Soooooooooo tell me about your awesome workouts? Who ACTUALLY nailed it today … Go on inspire me….. PLEEEAASSSEE!

One Love

DRK xxx

Designated Ugly Fat Friend

Revelations are coming thick and fast lately. My latest? Well, it starts with a story – or a few moments that I’ve entwined to make up my “life story”…

When I was a teenager two of my friends were known to me and the school as the cool girls. Pretty, funny and full of charisma. If you couldn’t be them you wanted to be around them just so, perhaps, a little bit of pretty would rub off on me. We spent our high school years as friends and are still friends today, except now it is not based on coolness just comfort and love. Today I was hanging with one of them and we were talking about the new movie that is out called The DUFF. I haven’t seen it and haven’t heard anything about it so it was today that I learnt what DUFF stood for. Designated ugly fat friend. That was me! That is who I have always thought of myself as! No matter who I am with or where I am in my life. I look in the mirror and that is who I see, DUFF.

Part of my “life story” to confirm this was a night the three of us went out in the city, just 19 years old or so. I was a teen mum so I had already had a child and this was a little weekend getaway to the big smoke. My two gorgeous friends were childless, successful and still… well gorgeous, funny and charismatic. I didn’t have any nice clothes so my friend let me borrow a denim skirt and a blue and white floralish top (yes I remember exactly what I was wearing). I also remember I had trouble fitting into her clothes even though back then I was only a size 8. Once dressed we headed out. We were walking down the street moving towards a pub when ‘we’ were wolf whistled at by a group of men. They also made some comment to us and with my friends’ quick wit and confidence she replied “How does get fucked sound brother?” You could see their testicles ride up into their throats, they’d been put in their place! It was awesome. I remember thinking that if, on the odd chance I’d ever be clever enough for a quick witted comment like that I’d probably end up with my head punched in! You know how some people can just say shit and get away with it and some people just can’t? I am one of those people who can’t. It was the same in the classroom at school they could do or say anything and the teachers would just laugh along…. If the same things came out my mouth I would have been suspended for sure. I put this down to me being ugly and them pretty. Another additional affirmative part of my ‘story’.

Anyway … we go into this pub and we are not even there 5 minutes before they are both getting chatted up and they are blowing off the advances like smooth criminals. Then finally this guy comes up to me and I am thinking “Oh yay, I am worthy” until he opens his mouth and this comes out …. “So, you’re the ugly friend huh?

Open up the ground and swallow me now. I wanted to die. I was gobsmacked and worst of all I didn’t have a smart arse reply. I was so embarrassed that I didn’t even want to tell my friends thinking that maybe they would look at me and think “Fuck yeah, why do we even hang out with this fugly chick?” Luckily, they had substance no matter how ‘cool’ they were and they loved me and my ugly fat arse anyway. To this day I hate telling that story just in case people would then be embarrassed to hang out with me …. Lucky my blog isn’t highly trafficked!

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It was this one moment, this brief few seconds of my life, that firmly cemented my ugly belief into the deepest part of my core. From years of schooling where I’d like a boy, he’d be kind of interested or worse still dating me, then he’d meet my ‘gorgeous’ friends and I, then, became the dogs breakfast. Thinking about all of it now, I’m not gonna lie, it hurts a little, embrrasses me a lot. BUT it’s all my shit. I see other women getting around who are not typically attractive but yet have this confidence and think their shit doesn’t stink and you know what? It pays off!

But the real revelation came later today when my 17 year old daughter came up to me and told me about this new female in her life that was messaging her and being nice to her and asking her for advice. I was waiting for her to say something ‘gossipy’ or that this girl had suddenly turned on her but instead she came out with “Why would she?” and I was like “Why would she what?” – sincerely confused. Her question? Why would this chick who is gorgeous, ‘you know like model material and really cool,’ want to talk to her. Was there a hidden agenda? Did she really like her? Well, I am standing there with my hot iron in hand completely dumbfounded and looking at my daughter and thinking… “WTF! Since when are you not worthy enough to have someone pretty, in fact, anyone of any look or style, talk to you! You are gorgeous and ‘model material’ yourself!” Then it dawned on me, she is more like me then I’d ever dare admit. I have taught her to believe that. I have taught her to give and give and give and to always try to make other people happy. To buy people nice stuff, to put in all your best efforts because how could they ever like someone like me. Someone so ugly, so fat, so unattractive, so stupid and what’s the word for not funny? … I don’t even know but anyway just not funny.

I cannot believe it! What have I done?! My daughter, and I am not being biased, is gorgeous and beyond her external beauty is a young woman who is also smart, funny and kind. She is the whole package! Yet, my ugly beliefs that I have held onto since I was 6, starting a new school and a girl came up to me with a scrunched up face said accusingly “You’ve got freckles.” What I heard her say was “Damn bitch” (yes I know she was only 6) “you are ugggggglly!” From that moment on I was convinced of my ugliness, everything else from there on in just set it in stone. I’ve allowed my beliefs to transfer onto a young woman. A child. MY child! And what is comical now that I look back is that same child had freckles! Maybe, just maybe, she was stating the bleeding obvious not because she thought it was ugly but because she had found someone just like her! Doh!

Well, what the hell do you do with information like that? I now know that being a DUFF is really just a state of mind but where do I go from here? How do I change this awful belief? I’m honestly not sure but I am going to figure it out! Stay tuned!

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One love

DRK xxx

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Mud Thy Saviour

I signed up for a ‘weight loss‘ course quite a few months ago.

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Don’t worry this is not another ‘I’m-not-eating-for-21-days-to-lose-10kg‘ post …

I promise!

My initial intention (as usual) was to lose a shitload of weight, get to that ‘perfect’ and ‘ideal’ number on those very judgemental scales, to, hopefully, eradicate all my mental issues surrounding my body and to, finally, transform myself to look like a completely different person coz quite simply I’m not good enough as is, right?! I was thinking possibly like Scarlett Johansen or skinnier to be more socially awesome? Ok how about Angelina – I’d fit in then, I’d be an inspiration right? Because dramatic weight losses and hard bodies are more inspirational than women who love their lives, their children and god forbid their curvy/skinny/slim/lumpy/whatever shaped bodies.

Since my sign up I’ve been surprised by what has really happened and it focuses around myself mentally more so then physically. If I could do a “Before & After” shot of my insides then apart from being a little grossed out you would be super impressed to see the massive changes I have made. The course set the wheels in motion by creating opportunities and opening doors that have significantly helped me to evolve into a better version of myself. Deep huh?! I feel it internally but trust me when I say it’s been slow going – think of like a turtle on tranquillisers kinda slow. Although I look pretty much the same on the outside I am a completely different version of myself on the inside and still changing.

The biggest catalyst for my internal modifications came just over halfway through this ‘mental weightloss’ course when I bravely signed up for something that I would never EVER have considered before. I signed up for a challenge called the Tough Mudder! Admist the *eye rolls* from my dear friends who have heard nothing more than this for the past 6+ months I am proud to shout it from the rooftops – the internet-blog-style-rooftop that is. Why? Because this stinky, muddy event has changed my life FOREVER! I have gone from someone who can’t even stand the idea of having a bath (yes, even with myself) for the fear of germs, contagious floaty things touching me or perhaps even a shark being unleashed through a hidden trap door (yes really) – TO NOW a full-blown dirty, sloppy, stinky mud loving chick ….. Ok I still have issues with baths and pools and water filled stuff.

They don’t call it Tough Mudder just for fun – that mud went into every crevice of my body, covered every inch of my exposed skin and stuck to every thread of the micro fibre technology Lorna Jane tights that I wore. Yes I am one of ‘those’ LJ girls and yes I wore my Lorna Jane in the mud and she still came out just as good as she went in! Yep, LJ and I crawled in that mud, jumped in that mud, hell we even swam-head-under in that mud. Why? Well, why the hell not?!!

My hubbie and I after completing the Tough Mudder Perth 2014 …..

What this mud did for me was more then just adding a natural, long lasting dynamic-lifter-type-odour to my body for a full few weeks and almost, yes only almost eradicated my fear of clean dirty bath water – it actually changed my thought processor. Yes MY negative, self-critical, self-loathing, I-can’t-do-it central core processor got an overhaul!! I know, it’s a big statement right?! Some people need years of counselling, very expensive personal power courses or a decapitation to break through mental issues and I am not taking away from those avenues I’ve taken up many of them myself – actually I really don’t advocate decapitation – BUT I went from a girl bordering on taking anti-depressants for severe anxiety, depression and feeling completely overwhelmed with too many kids and her all encompassing life, to a girl who says; “Ok bitch,” (yes this is me pep talking my negative side) “you did the Tough Mudder right?” Negative bitch answers “Yeah so what motherfucker?” – “Well, sweetie, if you can do a Tough Mudder with no training, no roids and weighing that weight you say that stops you from wearing or doing what you want, well you can do anything!! Now get your sorry arse up and start moving forward. One step at a time, that’s all it is!”

And thats exactly what I did throughout the whole Mudder obstacle course and I have been doing it ever since. Just one foot in front of the other, one step at a time and you know what? I’ve made progress! Real, fucking progress! There’s been no turning around to look at the past and all its sloppy stinkin’ mud just so I can feel bad and beat myself up. I am looking forward and am now being proactive – not in just one area of my life but in all of them! I am making changes, I am choosing to move ahead and along the way I am embracing who I am (thanks to Taryn Brumfitt’s Embrace book – #ihaveembraced)….

So what does this all mean? Well my first major change was hiring a sleep consultant! Yeah I did, I employed a damn good sleep angel who helped me to get my 20 month old (now 2 year old) to sleep through the night and sleep 2-3hrs during the day!  The 1.5 to 3hr blocks of sleep I was getting, I knew, was paramount to some of my mental health issues. I then started an online course to help me to manifest stuff (aka be positive) in a very exciting way – one that had results as soon as I started it.  I also changed simple things in my life like starting a gratitude journal, I now say ‘no’ more often then ‘yes’ to things that I really don’t want to do/have/eat, I also started saying ‘yes’ to things that I really did want but was to chicken to do before! I quit Facebook even though at first I thought FOMO might take me out. I stand up to people without fear of them not liking me (or divorcing me), I’ve taken more chances by putting myself out there in the big wide world (aka this blog) with far less fear of rejection and with not much concern about what others think about me, I retired my 10 year old business – for now but not forever – even though it is something I love and am passionate about the timing is not right at the moment and for me, well, all of those things are MASSIVE changes!

So what looks on paper (your screen) to be rather lame, for me, in my life, is huge! It’s different for me, it’s progress, it’s something that makes me proud of myself. So sing it with me Superwomen – “What have you done today to make you feel proud?”

One Love

DRK xxx