Knight In Shining Armour AKA Superwoman Cape & Trackies

I haven’t had the best week of my life.

I have been an absolute mess actually. Not because of one major life changing ‘thing’. Not because of something big enough that changes a life in an instant. No cancer diagnosis. No major car accident. No loss of life.

Just lots and lots of small things all stacked up. All precariously sitting on top of each other swaying. Threatening to tumble. Competing with gravity.

And gravity won.

Gravity always wins. I should know that by now.

And so, predictably, with gravity they all came crashing down. And by ‘they’ I mean me.

I haven’t cried like that in a long time. I haven’t prayed so hard to whoever it is out there since I was a young confused teen. I haven’t felt so desperate for a reprieve since … well since I can ever remember.

It was a deep, sobbing crying. Not a self pity cry.

A cry of really truly having had enough. A cry that was possibly a pivotal moment in my life … But I’m not sure on that one – it’s too early to tell.

On Sunday my Mum found me hiding out in the laundry deeply sobbing to myself. Hiding in the laundry to keep my sobbing from my two little boys a secret.

“What’s wrong?” She asked before all the words started tumbling out of my mouth. Short, sharp statements that weren’t really the reason for the intensity I was exhibiting.

She took me and wrapped me in a cuddle. Like my knight in shining armour. Except she was in trackies – which she totally pulls off by the way.

We talked. I cried. She advised. I cried some more. Then she took control. She put her foot down and gave me firm directions for how the rest of my day was about to play out. I was to 1) Call a friend. 2) Make a dinner date. 3) Let her take the kids. 4) Go out, drink some wine and feel like an adult.

And so I did. I took my swollen leaky nose, puffy red rimmed eyes out on a Sunday night with my friend.

My friend, who also jumped at the chance to get out on a Sunday night for some adulting, is someone who makes me laugh. She’s relaxed and calm and she’s pretty bloody good at being genuine too. I chose her because I knew she’d accept me in my state and be happy to be seen with my puffy eyes in public too.

I don’t know how to explain how lucky I am to have lost it like that and had someone there for me. I know how lucky I am and that alone should bring me out of my state. I am surrounded by these supportive people on a daily basis and if they are not beside me they are only ever a phone call away.

I have the kind of mother so many people would dream about. I have the kind of mother I hope to be one day. But for now she has her shit sorted while I’m still trying to put all my shit together.  And for this I am so thankful.

I love you Mum xx

One love

DRK xxx

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Seven Days

We’ve discussed this before. We’ve had this conversation. But nothing is more real about this chat then it is right now. Because over the last three weeks while we have worried about our weight, yelled impatiently at our children, huffed and puffed out at the series of frustrating road users a man I know has been counting down his days. Not his days til Christmas or days til his next holiday but the days of his life.

Three weeks ago he was told he had a month to live and while we all can’t wait to get into bed at night only to wake up the next day bleary eyed can we even come close to imagining how those nights and those mornings clicked by way too quickly for him.

Yesterday marked one week to go. 7 days or there abouts. How fucken unfair. How frustrating. How absolutely devastating. I cannot even fathom how this feels for him, for anyone dealing with this same mortality. I cannot put into words what each day drawing to an end would feel like to this man. And I can’t tell you how sad I selfishly feel.

How do you grieve the life you had, that life you have to let go? How do you do that? How the fuck do you do that! How do you sum up your life and ‘tie up loose ends’ when the biggest loose end is that you don’t want to fucken die! You want to live! You want to fall in love again and again. You want to explore the world. You want to hug every member of your family. Thank every one of your friends for every moment you’ve ever shared. Say sorry. Take your kids on a spectacular holiday. Boldly quit your job and train for your dream job.

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One week.

Seven days.

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What is really important in that moment of severely shortened time? What becomes the main focus in your life? Who would you spend your time with? How would you feel?

I don’t write this to bring on guilt for those who have just cried about a frustrating yet precious child. Not written to bring shame for the materialistic lives we lead. Not to instil fear in our own mortality. Just words written for a man I know with seven days left on his life calendar. His LIFE calendar. Just words from my heart because I feel so sad. For him. For his family. For the “what ifs”. For the challenges and unfairness of it all. For the fact he has just written his own eulogy which is not done for premeditated fun but out of a requirement to him and his final words of life. LIFE.

So I ask of you be grateful today, if even only for a moment. Be gracious over the next seven days in a compassionate way to all those on this similar and terminal journey. What we take for granted is a blessing to others. Less whinging, more hugging.

One Love,
DRK xxx

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Weeding my way to true happiness…

Life has been kind to me. I’ve been blessed with two wonderful parents who are respectful of one another and still in love to this day. They raised me in a loving home with grounded morals and life values. I have three older brothers who protected me, let me hang out with them and their mates and who inspire me, each in different ways. I have awesome friends, many new and endearing ones and special longtime, lifetime ones too. I live in a beautiful house, I always have enough food on the table and I can run, walk, carry my children and breathe fresh air into my healthy lungs everyday.

I am lucky.

Some times in my 30 plus years though I’ve felt ripped off. Not good enough. Felt that life had been unfair to me. I have had some days, some weeks even where I’ve only seen the glass as half empty. I’ve felt sorry for myself coz I wasn’t richer, skinnier, faster, smarter, prettier. I had friends who were toxic and draining on my emotions. I drank too much, smoked too much, ate too much. I saw my parenting as a failure and I was always too ready to give up.

Over time I have invested in myself. Books, courses, physical challenges, many deep and meaningful conversations. Over time I have learnt how to weed my garden. To clear it of things that didn’t serve me. That didn’t make me feel wholesome, kind or safe. That made my life seem hard, unfortunate or not worthy. I’ve overcome grief, guilt, self-sabotage. 

Today my garden is flourishing.

One love,

DRK xxx

  

A year of lasts. A year of firsts.

This year someone I know is celebrating their ‘lasts’. Their last birthday, their last Easter, their last long weekend in June. 

Odds are they will not see another one.

Odds are they will be “lucky” if they make it til Christmas. 

Odds are a year of “lasts” is a wild roller coaster ride that no one wants to get on. In fact no one goes on it voluntarily. This is a coaster ride that starts with confusion, disbelief and, in misdiagnosed cases, anger. ‘The fight’ then kicks in. This is where you will do anything, anything, to beat it, to prove ‘them’ wrong. To make sure you’ve uncovered and discovered any treatments or options or miracle cures. Then the frustration of it all boils over followed by that deep emitting sadness that maybe, just maybe you actually won’t make it and finally, and hopefully, acceptance. 

This is the roller coaster just for the terminally ill. The one the family goes on is similar but mixed up and around a bit. The acceptance of the fight ahead is the first initial supporting role, the confusion and the frustration of not being able to save them follows, then that deep unforgiving sadness when they leave, followed by anger, guilt, confusion, the feelings of unfairness, the questionable ‘what ifs’. Acceptance comes much, much later for the ones left behind.

A year of lasts is the year where your mortality stares you in the face each and every moment of each and every day. A year of lasts will see some fighting it every step of the way. Others who will write their bucket lists and hurriedly, joyfully get those things ticked off. Others choose to use their last year to inspire others, to leave a mark – their mark – on the world. But however, and whoever, it is that are living their ‘lasts’ they will be living it as if all of these moments are also their firsts. Because the simple things we take for granted have a very different look when they are stripped away, when they’re bare naked, raw and mortal. Life looks different through the eyes of the dying. Yet aren’t we all? Dying that is.

  

If you’ve said for years how you’d love to take your Dad to a live football game, just do it. If you’ve always dreamt of hot air ballooning with your husband, book it and just fucken do it. Make it happen. Whatever it is. Why wait til the day you are told you only have 12 months to live. Why wait until it is too late. It’s time to look at your own mortality in a most positive way. We are all dying. We all won’t make it. So what are we all doing with our lives! Whose fucking living it?!

One love,

DRK xxx

  

Exploding Love

New parents are totally as adorable as newborns. You can spot them a mile away. The awkward pram moments, the fussing, the uncertainty spread across their face, the tired elated smiles and of course the teeny tiny baby. I love it. I miss it. The newness that is.

I’ve always been newborn mad – just not so keen when they grow up and starting talking back. I love the way newborns smell, how they rely holy and solely on you, I love their little cries and all their ‘first’ little moments. Newborns make my heart want to explode with love and sometimes I think it actually will – explode with love that is. I wish I could bottle it and spray it all around the world so that this pure love fills the hearts of everyone. I know, I know, how soppy and sentimental of me but alongside P!NK, newborns just make my heart sing!

But that’s not what I came here to write about today because even though I sound super clucky and it seems as though I am about to announce (another) pregnancy I feel it’s very important to say that I will never have another newborn of my own… And I am grateful for that because I have five healthy children already! But it does mean I get to love the newborns of my friends.

I came here today because I feel so much love for a little guy who I’ve never met and who has recently arrived. I love his mother – in a friend-way not creepy-way – so its only fair that I’m totally in love with him too. He’s precious, he’s tiny and he’s premmie. He is also strong, determined and he is, well I’m throwing this out there, perfect. Absolutely perfect.

How can one be so perfect? How can someone so little steal your breath away? I remember when my number 4 was born, my littlest one in size and with a serious medical condition. I remember how I could sit and stare at him all day. Not being able to hold him was painfully draining but I never got bored just hovering around him. I never wanted to walk away and leave his side. Even with the three hourly ‘milk room’ trips where I’d be plugged in like a jersey cow spending up to 30 minutes each side trying to get some milk out he never, not ever left my thoughts. Other mums would come in, five minutes tops, and then walk out with 180mls meanwhile (back at the ranch, the really dry drought ridden ranch) I left with a syringe of 2.5mls or under. It was pretty pitiful and that 2.5mls was my largest milk delivery the entire time!!

My number 4 was the epitome of a miracle to me and I know my friend will be feeling exactly the same. All babies are miracles and love is love but these little tiny ones are just even more special. More miraculous. You cannot, as a parent, fall in any more love than you do with them. It’s a love that is all encompassing. A love that blows your mind. So when I think of my friend and the new little guy in her life my heart fills to the brim and explodes a little on the inside. A little miracle. A little ray of lovely sunshine. A little bundle of love.

Now go and hug your babies, no matter how big they are. If you haven’t been blessed with babies yet go and hug your mother or your father or both because they will have that exploding love thing happening all over you!!

One love,
DRK xxx

Day 6 – Unrealistic Expectations

I have expectations. Unrealistic expectations. Here’s a few for example: I expect my kids to be able to do the dishes without fighting, whinging or dropping water all over the floor….. Are you kidding me! Unrealistic for sure! I expect my kids to listen to me every time I open my mouth… So totally unrealistic not even I listen to myself all the time in fact I can’t stand the nagging that comes out of my mouth somedays but earplugs only internalize the sounds and make my voice sound weird! And I should not, I repeat, should not freak out when I gain 200g during a diet…..

200g. I know laughable right?! But this diet is all about daily losses to keep you motivated. Plateauing is normal but gaining is not if you follow it to a T. So why did I gain? Was it because the kids had my favourite meal last night – homemade pizza and garlic bread? Did I sneak a bite? Hell did I suck back a whole pizza? Nope I did not. I didn’t even lick my fingers after making them. Instead I had a light 95g tuna in spring water with salad. Did I have a full cream latte with one, something I’ve been hanging for? Nope I did not. I had a herbal tea hold the honey and it was quite delicious. Did I sneak a few Doritos the kids had for arvo tea? Nope I did not. I ate my protein only snack worth 50g, boring as batshit but it’s worth it right, right?! What I did eat in addition to what my plan allows was 6 almonds. 6 raw almonds obviously all worth 33.3333 grams each. Fat little fuckers ruined my morning!

I was close to getting back into the 60’s too and I thought, I expected, it might of been this morning. I haven’t seen a 6 for a super long time and I tell you when I do see that upside down 9, when I jump that momentous hurdle, I plan to hold a party in celebration – me and my scales are going to celebrate in style… In the bathroom. Alongside the toilet… While no one is watching…. The almonds are definitely NOT invited!

It’s ok I’m not beating myself up. No perfection bat in sight!

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I know what I have to do and I am not going to sabotage myself and fall off the wagon like I normally would just because I feel defeated. Today, although I am disappointed, I still feel committed and I am determined to get back to my normal weight. I’m not going to squeeze into tight clothes anymore because once upon a time those clothes were not tight. I have a whole wardrobe waiting to be worn and they are relying on me. I will not let you down Prada shoes and Gucci pants …. Haha just kidding they’re Grace Hill shoes and my Cooper St leather pants that are calling … Oh and a shitload of Target! But I can still hear them calling even without the ridiculous price tag. Yep all my clingy tops, my size 10 jeans and my ‘white’ wardrobe are calling me to. What’s that? I think I can hear them roar!

Who else had a ‘less than ideal weigh-in’ this morning? Go on share all the grisly deets! Hey if you were successful please share too! Inspire the shit out of me!

One love
DRK xxx

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Day 3 – Sucks Less

I’ve just returned from a birthday party.

But it wasn’t the type with streamers or candles.

My greatest challenge of the night wasn’t avoiding the party food or the birthday cake it was, in fact, holding myself together. Holding myself together because looking around the room I saw 8 out of the 10 smiling guests either have had cancer or have been directly touched by cancer. The guest of honour himself has been given 12 months to live. If it’s a good year.

This makes my hunger, detoxing pains suck less. Suck less because they are inferior to the reality. They suck less because I am choosing to be hungry. Choosing to because I want to feel better, to be happier, to be healthier, to live longer. Today sucks less because I have the choice, still, to create my future.

So day three is done and dusted.

Today on day three I am grateful.

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One love

DRK xxx