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

  

Conscious Eating

When you are dieting everything that goes in your mouth becomes blindingly obvious. It becomes a conscious decision, a choice, an option and for someone like me it’s all or nothing…..

I cannot lick my fingers after spreading the kids Nutella. I cannot pinch just one chip on takeaway night. I cannot take a bite of a pizza when it’s GYO which when translated means: get your own damn dinner….

No I cannot do those things while dieting because then I would unleash the beast! The beast who would then sit down and eat the whole damn thing. The pizza, the salty chips and the jar of Nutella. Ok, probs not the whole jar but I wouldn’t find satisfaction in just a smidge licked off my finger tip!

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So my other option is to deny myself of all of these things permanently while dieting and if any of those substances are to touch my fingertips I violently wash them away before they end up in my mouth!

Here’s a thought …. Why on earth can’t I have a problem eating too much celery or kale or baby spinach?! Hmmph? Why?!

So before conscious eating, aka dieting, I’d shove food in not caring to stop and enjoy the tastes evolving in my mouth. Kinda like Cookie Monster except the food would actually go in my mouth, down my throat only to finally settle itself in my arse or belly or chin – chin two that is. I inhale food because I am always in a rush but also because I feel guilty to be consuming calories, empty calories. I’m not a binge eater or someone who eats shitloads but I do have a problem with being satisfied with small amounts – so it goes past being hungry and into something more – of which I’m not sure.

Now, though, I savour every bite. Cut, bite, fork down, chew, savour, swallow. Cut, bite, fork down, chew, savour, swallow. Repeat. There is no longer inhalation of food. The pull is still there, the desire is too but my willpower or whatever the fuck it is – leverage I think I called it last time – is greater…. At the moment and its a welcome relief!

Some people are happy with just one chocolate square while dieting … I. Am. Not. One. Of. Those. People! So it’s none for me. Nil. Zero. Zilch. Unsustainable I hear you say, yep I guess that’s part of my problem!!

One love,
DRK xxx

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Tickle your Pickle

What is it that floats your boat? You know like tickles your fancy, pops your corn, milks your goat???

Is it travel? Dirty sex with men who don’t speak your language? Is it asking Siri stupid questions and laughing at her random replies… I know it’s a bit sad but who needs to hire friends (coz people do that – don’t they?) when you got a talking phone who won’t drop the f-bomb know matter how much you beg her to and then you try to irritate the shit out of her just so says a naughty word, just one! But she doesn’t coz she’s a pretty patient chick sure she lacks personality but she’s entertaining all the same. In fact after some persistence the kids and I did get her to sing a song once (she’s tone deaf by the way) I haven’t been able to get her to do it again though – stubborn bitch.

But it’s no surprise after my last few posts that I am still looking for my zing. I’m looking for that thing that tickles my pickle well if I had one that is! If I had to whittle it down to my three top loves (not including kids, hubbie, family, friends etc etc) I would have to say the three top ‘things’ I love are 1) houses (anything and everything to do with them), 2) writing (all genres and styles) and 3) yoga. I really, really love hot yoga. I don’t do it anymore but I love it – dumb right?!

Besides drawing a gazillion house plans these three things that I apparently love I don’t give time to. These three loves are things that I feel passionate towards. I feel drawn to, I connect with and these three things make me feel full. Content. Me.

So why don’t I do these things more often? Why aren’t these a part of my daily life? Well because I let “life” and fear get in the way. There’s always dishes to do, coffee dates to be had, kids to occupy, kids to occupy (yes I intentional said that twice) and never enough time to explore the things I love, that fill me with passion and give me oomph! Yes, I am busy as I discussed in a recent post “Working Shit Out” but I am also full of excuses or shit as others would say.

Now, what am I going to do about it? I can opt for the doing nothing and continue walking around feeling a little pissed off, helping others, occupying kids, cleaning things that just get dirty again ORRRRRR I could do all of those things but with do it with joy AFTER I have fulfilled my needs! Now my scaredy cat insides needs to pack their shit and leave while I take steps forward to do these things!

Go forth Superwomen – do what you love, do it often and do it so you don’t go stir crazy!

One love
DRK xxx

Tissues and Stars

I watched a movie called “The Fault in our Stars” today yesterday a few days ago (ok so it took me awhile to finish writing this blog) and it was…. Wow… Just wow! This movie is as beautiful as it is touching. It’s about life, young love, young death and cancer. But its even more then that it’s also about leaving behind memories or a scar as Augustus says. It’s about being important and deeply loved by someone. Oh and by the way cancer totally sucks balls right?!

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I have had this movie since it came out on DVD but I had been putting off watching it. Why? Well for lots of reasons – the same reasons why I couldn’t finish the book I suppose. Because not finishing the book meant the story didn’t end and I knew it wouldn’t end the way I like fairytales novels to end – with ‘and they lived happily ever after’. I knew the ending would be death. I knew cancer would win. I knew it would bring up my heartbreak over my brothers own cancer battle, a life lost. The things he missed out on having and experiencing. But he left a scar … on me, on many.

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If you haven’t watched this movie I suggest you grab a box of tissues and watch it. It is not a deeply depressing movie where you will finish watching it and want to go drown your sorrows in a bottle of Jacks it is instead, heart warming and lovely. It will leave you feeling grateful for healthy lungs and it’ll make you want to hug your kids and be present with each conversation you have with people who are important in your life. It will make you want to say the things you don’t say often enough, things usually left to an eulogy. Are you brave enough to say those things out loud, to the people who need to hear it? It’ll put things into perspective and remind you how precious life is. And even though I still haven’t found out the meaning of life – or my role in this movie of Life – I do feel all warm and squooshy on the inside because after watching this movie because I realise that I don’t have to change the world to be important. So pressures off.. Phew…

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One love
DRK xxx

Getting Naked

Every time I get naked and catch sight of myself in the mirror I am shocked! It’s like it is the first I have ever seen my post baby body and I’m instantly like “Omg who the fuck is that?” and then…  “Oh shit it’s me..” It’s not a complete repulsion but it kinda makes my eyes bleed a little.

First of all there is this fluoro, beacon light thing going on with most parts of my skin. These are the places where sunlight has never dare set foot. In fact I am so vivid white that I’m pretty certain if you turned off the light I would glow in the dark …. True story! Then there are those ‘tiger stripes’ that women talk about. It’s not that I am ashamed of them but I’m certainly not as proud of them as I could be and I really, really admire the superwomen who are proud of theirs! My stretch marks have faded over time but I still see them as irrepairable imperfections – wait a sec … who the hell has taken my perfection bat!?!

And then there is this belly button that I inherited from my Dad! It’s deep enough to plant a tree and then grow a bloody orchard! It emphasizes my little pot belly in a way that should be as illegal as a person who is blindfolded, drunk and operating a vehicle. And it is my belly that I am most self-conscious with … My dreaded jelly belly – the junks not in the trunk but under the hood… And it scares me sometimes because I wait for the “Omg when are you due?” question.  My only comeback is “Oh and your arse is having twins, congratulations!” – which is not so effective when they are 80… And a man.

So anyway, I was talking to my friend last night about plastic surgery. An idea I have been flirting with for sometime. I have always thought a bit of liposuction would be all that I would need to make me happy with my body but then after my jelly belly was gone what would be next? Wouldn’t I then want my boobies put back on my chest to keep my knees from banging into them? And how about shaving my nose down to a more petite size so my allergies are halved in springtime?

I wonder though who would I be doing it for? It definitely wouldn’t be for my husband because when he says he loves me just the way I am I actually believe him…. So then it must be for other men? No, it’s not coz I honestly only care about what my husband thinks of me. Well then it only leaves other Superwomen… And yes its probably very true that I would more than likely get surgery done to please my allies… Or to be like my allies… Or to even look better than my allies? It’s that competitiveness once again that I feel when other women look me up and down and then casually glance at themselves in the reflection of the shop window. If they smile once they’ve compared the both of us I know I have just made them feel better about the coffee – with full cream milk – they’ve just had.

ImageBut then I love talking about this to the real Superwoman in my life, my Mum, because she tells me how back in the 70’s none of these things were an issue. I love knowing that if I was born 30 years earlier then I was that I would have been living in that world, but I’d be without my Supermum! She always tells me that ‘back then’ women got together once or twice a week to play a game of tennis or badmington which would then be followed up at someone’s house with coffee (that instant stuff) and cakes, slices and biscuits. All homemade, all full of sugar, gluten, dairy, wheat…. Sometimes it feels like these are all taboo food nowadays! But the good ‘ole days! How awesome is that?! Even more awesome when she shares with me vital info that I never knew was possible – that being that they never ‘looked’ at each other the way we do. They never noticed if someone gained or lost weight let alone ever commented on it. Whereas now everything is weight related. From the skinny latte with no sugar you order at the counter to the gym junkies who count how many calories they have just burnt to the ‘Wow have you lost weight? You look great!” comments.

It’s on the cover of all the magazines…. One week it’s “Celebs Who Are Too Skinny” and then the next is “How to lose 5kg FAST”. I look at those ‘too skinny’ celebs and think yep, definitely too skinny but then the next week I’ve cut out that 3 page spread on how to lose 5kg fast so I can pretend to follow it just to wear a dress to a party without feeling like the elephant among the mice. And it’s a terrible cycle for me but I am far from having a eating disorder though I do believe there is another ‘new’ disorder evolving.

ImageOne thing I do know and it’s something I remind myself of daily is that when I am dead and buried I know for a fact that my headstone will not read “Died finally reaching her goal weight” yay for me! Or “Died just 2kg away from her idea of a perfect weight – what a total failure!!!” It’s ridiculous!

Happiness is a state of mind not a number on the scales! It’s time that we live our lives without repenting over the extra 200 calories we ate for dinner! We are the role models for our daughters who we will teach to either love themselves and life wholeheartedly or to continue the downward cycle of regarding external ‘beauty’, and the judgement of what society says that means, for the rest of their lifetimes!

ImageSo it starts with me… Today I am backing away from the scales, I’m giving my donut jelly belly a loving little squeeze and I’m getting on with living! Whose in?!

One Love

DRK xxx