Assault in a Perfect World

Recently, like very recently, my eldest son was assaulted. He was beaten up by a gang of 6 youths and his brand new bike was stolen. When I found out, after knowing my son was ok, I was angry. I was so fucken angry and I wanted to hunt these cowards down and I wanted to inflict severe pain on them. I wanted to take their possessions and make them feel vulnerable and scared for their lives. I wanted them locked up with the key thrown to the bottom of the ocean because to me they were the scum of the earth.

Eventually after these feelings had run through my heart and soul like red hot lava the sadness kicked in. Like deep, deep sadness where my heart broke and my tears flowed. Not only was I sad for my son and how this could possibly affect the rest of his life but I was deeply saddened to know these kids knew no better and quite possibly they never will. I was sad for them because they weren’t brought up in a loving family environment where they were taught right from wrong. I was sad they didn’t know how their actions affect other people for the rest of their lives – or don’t care. I was sad to know that they will go through the justice system and be in and out of jail for the rest of their lives and there is probably nothing anybody could do about it.

Then I thought how we could change this? How could we make things better before things get worse? How could we create a judicial system that helps make these kids, while they still have the chance, to be decent adults and better human beings – rather than locking them up with other trouble makers where they just learn new tricks.  So I created the perfect world. A world where these children were charged. Where they went before a court and their offences were made clear but then instead of juvenile prison they were instead taken to a remote village. A place where they were mentored, hugged, lived off the organic goodness of the land and taught good manners and morals. A place where they felt safe and could make the change to be kind. To be thoughtful. To laugh at funny things not cruel things. To be a person who they can enjoy being, to make something of their lives.

It’s crazy and naive I know. It’s a dream and a perfect world. But I do believe that some of these young ones could actually benefit from a place like this – it probably already exists. I think they could grow up and then they could become mentors themselves and start changing the circle of life for their families, their children. To some degree I believe in rehabilitation I am just not sure it can be done in an environment that is already toxic.

Just a “perfect world” thought.

One Love

DRK xxx

How to be Authentic in 2017

*LANGUAGE WARNING*

Inauthenticity by definition is: not authentic

Pretty simple really. I don’t think you could get a simpler definition. So here let me complicate it for you. If you are not being authentically you, you are being inauthentically you by trying to be someone else. If you go from being YOU to being a new inauthentic YOU then you are still not being you at all. People are pretty good at ready between the lines and smelling the bullshit. It’s a thing called “gut instincts”.

Being a new inauthentic you is not to be confused with being a new version of you because change is something we all do. We grow. We change. We become different, hopefully better, interpretations of ourselves. We go through dark phases, light phases and full on neon motherfucking bright phases. It’s an ebb and flow. But if you try to fill those spaces with something that is not in alignment with who you really are then you can expect not much to change. You can expect people to withdraw from you. People to question you. To feel a little unsure around you. Trust me. I’ve been there. Being inauthentic is a turn-off and not just for some rolling in the hay loving but for relationships in general. So…

How to be authentic, trustworthy, credible and legitimately you?

  1. Become more aware of your actions. Your voice. Your persona. Don’t be too hard on yourself but if you notice you are speaking with an accent even though you haven’t left the country for an extended period of time or you’ve suddenly woken with a plum in your mouth then you are probably being inauthentic. The people who know you, deeply, will know this is not who you truly are. If you sense they are beginning to feel uncomfortable around you ask yourself “WHO AM I RIGHT NOW?”
  2. Stop pretending that perfectionism exists. None of us are perfect. There are no perfect parents. No perfect life. No perfect human. No perfect holiday with kids, now ain’t that the truth! But imagine the boring life we would all lead if we were all perfect. *Yawn* Give me imperfect any day.
  3. Find what resonates with you. It is different for everyone. Some people like to blend in. Some like to stand out. Some can do the jig in both of those worlds. There is nothing wrong with any of these as long as they are authentically you. Sometimes being able to do both, or being a chameleon, is a gift. It means you can walk into any situation and fit in like you are made for the space you are standing in. It’s not a mask, for some of us it’s a skill. But if you have to adjust your soul to feel accepted by others than you are not being authentic. If they don’t like the real you than they are not worth your time.
  4. Forgive. Yep, fuck it, I know it’s hard but you have got to forgive because holding grudges isn’t you being true and authentic to yourself. Plus it’s like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die – something Buddha or Carrie Fisher said depends on the Google search. It’s a cute little hardcore quote but I love its analogy all the same.
  5. Keep growing. Learn from the past. I know people say don’t look back but I think looking back is empowering. Looking back and saying “Holy Shit! Look how far I’ve come!” Here I was, for 20 years, TRYING SO HARD to fit in when I was BORN to stand out! Don’t think this doesn’t apply to you because it does. Stand out by being unique. Not being a follower. Not being someone who is constantly looking at others and wanting what they have but looking within and thinking, FEELING, what it is that YOU NEED to be authentically you.
  6. Stop being agreeable. Stop saying yes when you really want to say no. My god I spent years, YEARS, doing this and the resentment I felt was, at times, unbearable. Then when I started saying no people became offended because it wasn’t something I normally said. So don’t be like me. SAY NO. You don’t always have to be the yes-man or yes-woman or yes-gender-neutral. The word no, when it is authentically said, is empowering because it puts YOU in the drivers seat. Don’t be scared of being in control of your vehicle because it is a bit fucken crazy if you’re not at the wheel. Oh and honour your boundaries they are like the lines that keep you on your track.
  7. Practise what you preach. If you are going to preach something then make sure you are living it. It doesn’t mean you have to be perfect at it but it does mean that it should be a part of your conscious actions. In fact if it is something you truly believe in then it will also be a part of your subconscious actions. Preach away but keep it real. And finally….. Mum cover your ears… or better still close your eyes…
  8. Don’t be a cunt. Sorry I know this is a very unladylike word and I actually really dislike it but it’s a beauty. Being a cunt isn’t anybody’s authentic self. Being a cunt means you are being totally inauthentic and that nobody is going to like you, even probably yourself. Just be nice. Be real. Be kind. Less cunty. Be authentic. Be in the natural state of you. It’s a beautiful state to be in.

One love,

DRK xxx

 

 

two thousand and sixteen – a year of goodbyes

two thousand and sixteen has been a challenging year for so many of us. Obviously there has been a shift in The Universe’s energy or something ‘out there’ but I’m not here to speculate on that.

This year has seen so many ‘greats’ of our lifetime die. Carrie Fisher, George Michael, Prince, David Bowie and more. This year many family members and friends, our very own ‘greats’, have also left this earth. I’ve seen myself at six funerals this year… Most of them cancer related. Most too young to be gone already.

A year like two thousand and sixteen makes us reflect on life and death. It makes us realise that people can never die when they leave behind so much of themselves for us to remember. Their memories, their life walk beside us, every day, in our thoughts and in our hearts until we are face to face again. And we will be, this is my whole hearted belief.

two thousand and sixteen makes us question the things we’ve been taught all our lives. Things that society place importance on. It makes you question why we place significance on living in a mansion over a caravan when loneliness is the same. Why, if we still arrive at the same destination, does it matter if we drive a Lamborghini or a 1970 VW there. Why wear a Rolex watch over a Target watch if they both will tell you the same time.

A year like two thousand and sixteen makes you grow up and teaches you to let go. Let go of the importance placed on material possessions. Let go of the pain from friendships that hurt you. Let go of patterns of behaviour that keep you stuck in a rut because being stuck in a rut over small things keeps you living in the past and if my past is two thousand and sixteen then I will do anything to let that go.

A year like this makes you honour your true friendships, love your beautiful neighbours, embrace your wacky family and look forward to new beginnings. It makes you grateful of good times and learn lessons from the bad. It teaches you what is important, really, in the life we live and reminds you that life is too short to fuck around being self-absorbed.

two thousand and sixteen has taught me to be kinder, more aware of others feelings, to listen harder, to worry less about material things, to let the judgement of others be their burden not mine and to laugh harder with the ones I truly fucken love. It taught me that the only person I need to be better than is the person that I was yesterday.

This year was challenging. For others I know it was way more devastating than that. Challenging is simply a way to test one’s abilities. An opportunity to rise and to learn. That moment when you feel defeated but choose to stand up again. Challenging means we’ve been blessed with difficult times for how can we know the real beauty of fun times without them.

None of us have to wait for a New Year to start again when every day we wake up is brand new. But on the first of January two thousand and seventeen we get to start a new year. A year beginning with hope of good things and in gratitude for getting the opportunity to see it in when so many others around us haven’t. For most of us it’s where we can shake off the two thousand and sixteen dirt, step over the threshold and welcome a fresh, new beginning.

As two thousand and sixteen ends and two thousand and seventeen begins just be kinder. Kinder to every one you meet. Kinder to yourself. Kinder to the expectations you would normally put on yourself. I don’t believe it is the time for resolutions. Why set yourself up for failure? Why enter a new year with demands placed upon your days? Why weigh yourself down with a whole lot of pointless things when you can simple choose two thousand and seventeen to just be.

Be in the moment.

Be a part of life and living.

Be a part of your journey and in moving forward.

Happy New Year xxx

One Love
DRK xxx

Living With Regrets

We’re not supposed to have regrets or at least we shouldn’t admit to having them. “No regrets” is the life motto of so many and it’s honourable. Admirable. Dare I say it – inspirational?! But I’m all about being different and real so let me do those two things for you for a second here…

Do I have regrets?

Hell to the yes I fucking do!

I regret wasting 20 years of my life hating my body. Not swimming because of my body. Missing good times and parties because of my body. Not allowing myself to talk to that super funny chick and making a new friend because of my body. My hideous, unlikable body – I regret feeling that way about myself for so long.

I regret not being a better sister. I really fucking do. My brother was dying and I was thinking of myself, constantly. I really regret that selfish phase of my life and I’m sure he is ok up there with it all but I missed out on more memories because of my selfishness. And there I go being selfish again – but that I don’t regret.

I totally really regret sleeping with so many boys as a youngster. Yes, I would call myself a slut – but hey had I been a boy I would have been a total stud. I regret it because they mostly treated me like shit and I regret so badly that I didn’t stand up to them and tell them not to treat a desperate, low self-esteemed girl like that. Warn them that one day they would have daughters of their own and most of them do which makes me laugh like a super-villian-evil-bitch. I would warn them that it would kill them to see their insecure child being treated like a piece of meat. I regret not mastering that super-attitude-finger-waving-head-tilting thing that women do. I regret not having enough self worth to treat myself better and to tell those boys to go fuck themselves. I don’t look back at those times and think to myself “Yeah, that sure was fun!” Honestly I cringe and I think how desperate and ugly I felt back then – it wasn’t fun at all.

I have spent twenty plus years, regretfully wasting my precious life on being something or someone that I thought would please others yet I hated everything about the wannabe that was me. Always seeking external gratification, external recognition, external la-di-fucking-da’s. I wish I had been taught at a much younger age that all of those things were inside me all along.

Over those two decades I’ve shed a few of the try-hard-qualities as I have grown, lived and learned (eventually) but it’s been the last three years where I’ve picked up the speed on that shedding and all those things I thought I had to be or couldn’t be no longer exist or matter as of today in my dirty thirties. It is liberating and soul freeing. I’ve un-become so I can be exactly who I am. And my regrets aren’t filled with anger or sadness they are simply regrets. Which is my point. That it is ok to have regrets. The point is not to dwell on them. The point is to learn from them and the most monumental point is to embrace them as part of your life story. I wouldn’t have, be or understand life as I do now if I didn’t do all those shitty things I regret.

What’s most important of all is that you stop being somebody else and be yourself instead! Become you because you are living a life nobody else can. You are in control and all the choices are yours for your present and future. Sometimes the past sucks big hairy sweaty balls and those things sure do taste like shit but RIGHT NOW you are in a completely different moment and you get to CHOOSE whatever it is you want. Happiness. Gratitude. Weirdness. Whatever. Open those big fucking eyes of yours and look in that mirror. You don’t have to make love to yourself to love yourself but you can if you want. You don’t have to tell the whole world how a-fucking-mazing you are. You don’t have to do a single damn thing to live with your regrets. You just live. You just choose to live as you. Which is not always easy but shake off the shit you’ve pretended to be for so long and just be you.

Now go. Go and live in the present moment, which will soon be your past, and live it as YOU. Because, trust me, when you actually make decisions in life based on being you they can’t become regrets. They are instead whoopsies. When you make moves in life, as you, and you are being real and honest with yourself any fuck-ups simply become good memories… Eventually … One day … And you will laugh about them because you will know you were just being yourself. Your adorable, imperfect self.

One love

DRK xxx

A Note To My Teenage Self

Don’t hurry. Life is longer than your young 14 years – if you’re lucky. And you are lucky because the time travelling ‘you’ knows this to be true.

Don’t worry. You are beautiful just as you are. There is only one you. Be proud of that and make the most of her.

Don’t regret. Choices are made and mistakes happen. Put the perfection bat away you are not a failure – you’re still standing right? Well then, walk on.

Don’t hurt. The self inflicted pain must stop. You would never hurt someone else the way you hurt yourself, would you? Be your own best friend and stop the physical pain.

Don’t give so much. You give yourself away so easily. Trust me if they love you they will wait. And while they wait love yourself it’s the most rewarding love you will ever find.

Find peace. Peace in your moments. Peace in your days. Peace will always bring you back to yourself. Stay centred. Stay grounded. Find peace.

Find faith. Not in a godly sense but in your own capabilities. Believe in your goodness. Believe in your future. Believe in who you are, right her right now, no matter what the situation.

Find joy. Breath it in. Swim in its innocence. Dance with it. There is a lot more joy than you can ever possibly imagine and once you find it treasure every second with it.

Find love. Not from a man, not from anybody else but from within. Nobody will ever truly love you until you fall in love with yourself first.

Be authentic. You are the one and only you. This is the most fucking magical thing ever! When you are authentic you never need validation. You never need someone else to make you feel like you are a good person. When you’re authentic you are 100% the most beautiful version you can be and that type of beauty cannot be measured, compared or captured! It just is.

One love

The Older Version of You xxx

Ever Had One of THOSE Days?

I’ve had one of “those days”!

I know you get what I mean when I say that because I bet your bottom dollar you’ve had at least one of those days this year too.

It’s the kind of day where you’re dropping your child at school and you’re totally high fiving yourself coz you’re there right on time for once… And then you see every other student in free-dress. It’s the kind of day where your child cries relentlessly because he is the only one in his uniform and you feel like the worst Mother in the world because you didn’t read the memo! So you drive home, you change him into free-dress and you take him back – which by now, of course, he’s late.

It’s the kind of day when you have so much to do but you have an almost-three-year-old who won’t let you do any of it without a fight. Fuck the terrible a twos these fucked up threes are a nightmare! A tantrum down every aisle, bargaining like a mother fucker just to keep him quiet, a shit in his pants in the Bunnings car park, shoes off/shoes on argument every single stop we make, a Houdini in the seatbelt and a bite on the behind in Spotlight. And just to be clear he bit me! Not from anger just pure enjoyment.

It’s the kind of day where you get granted 1 hour alone time without that Houdini biting child just to finish what you started because it was simply impossible to do it with him and stay sane. You get to the supermarket but you can’t remember how you got there and you start to wonder whether silence in the car is actually more distracting than a noisy and demanding toddler. You arrive safely, thank god, and park in the furtherest spot from the shops because it’s the only car bay where someone has actually parked in their lines. You suit up, smack that “I got this shit” smile on and head in. Locating all your items in the “new look” supermarket is tough and you seem to get caught behind every single granny who has recently had a hip operation. They’re clocking their Zimmer-frames at minus 40km/hour while swerving dangerously all over the aisle. You can’t go around them, ones coming up the rear and their too deaf to hear your polite excuse me’s. It’s snail pace on horse tranquillizers… and there is seriously a billion of them.

It’s the kind of day where you’re “late” for appointments that you actually secretly forgot and your kid forgot to hand in a permission slips for an excursion so you have to do an emergency dash to the school otherwise they can’t go. And if there’s something worse than a three-year-old tantrum it’s a moody fourteen-year-old boy. Ergh, fast forward to a happy well adjusted adult please.

It’s the kind of day when you’re about to sit down, finally, only to realise you have two kids still ‘out there’ awaiting your pick up some time soon. So you fold up your PJ’s and put them back on the bed for later… Much later. Oh well, what’s two more trips to the fourteen hundred already clocked up today.

It’s the kind of day when you’ve finally sent out your child’s three-year-old birthday party invitations only to find out apparently he’s turning one coz one rhymes with fun and three doesn’t and you probably should have known that when you bought the cute little invites.

It’s the kind of day when it seems everyone has decided to drive on the roads at the exact same time as you, but super cautiously…. Must be those hip replacement Grannies from the shops! Like 20km-below-the-speed-limit-cautious. And you want to scream and yell and be one of those psycho road ragers that you see on YouTube coz you’re in a hurry but you’re way too cool and kind for that so you sit behind them muttering obscenities under your breath because if you say them out loud the almost-three-year-old will repeat it in front of his Speech Therapist who wants to hear his ‘new’ words.

It’s the kind of day you need I.V coffee just to get you through.

It’s the kind of day where I may whinge a lot, I know, I seriously do, but I can also find the joy. I’ve high-fived myself on numerous occasions because even though I’ve been late, I’ve been frustrated, I’ve been bitten by my almost-three-year-old … I’m alive. I made it. The kids made it. We managed to laugh and talk and tickle. We’ve managed to shower and eat and fall asleep peacefully. And those slow drivers probably saved me a speeding ticket, maybe even saved me from having an accident. 

Nobody’s going to shake my hand or pat me on the back tonight to tell me what an awesome fucken game of survival I played today. Nobody’s going to give me a pay cheque for being an event planner, a taxi driver, a personal shopper, an au pair, a negotiator or a teething ring for someone who already has a mouthful of teeth. Nobody really cares.

But it’s the kind of day that when I finally crawl into bed at midnight that I can count my blessings. Of which I have many and whinging, freely, in my blog is one. Because I get to say it, unleash it, vent it and let it go while you get to relate or hate or whatever tickles your fancy and we all get on with our day after that. And so my venting here is done and my blessings have been counted. 

How about yours?

One love,

DRK xxx

For My Nana

This is my reading from my Nanas funeral. I’m posting it here as a keepsake and as my promise to remember her for the rest of my life.

On the morning of the 27th January the world lost a feisty, stubborn, proud and loving woman – traits many of her family members have inherited – me included! A woman who fiercely loved and protected her family. She was a true nurturer and she was proud of us all regardless of the mistakes she witnessed throughout our lives, mine especially.

Her hugs were powerful, her stories often on repeat and just two months after her beloved husband, my Dear Pop, passed away she left this world to be with him. We all knew she wouldn’t be far behind coz since when does Nana give Pop any peace and I think it’s fair to say two months was long enough!

There are many things I will remember about my Nana and so would many of you. Kelly remembers the cheek pinches and how she used to say “I could eat you and suck on the bones!” But when I say it it just doesn’t sound as sweet.

I know I will remember her for the rest of my life. This is my promise.

Nana, I will remember those hugs you gave me where you squeezed me so tight know matter how old I got. So tight that I didn’t think I could breathe.

I will remember your smell – a mixture of roses and moth balls – on your clothes, in your home, on your soft porcelain skin.

I will remember how you always confused your only two granddaughters names in every conversation… I was called Kelly, Kelly called Cristy, and on an occasion Kelly called Evan. It didn’t matter what name you called us we always knew who you meant.

I will remember the bits of advice you gave me about love, about life, about children, about making mistakes and moving on.

I will remember your bright and colourful outfits and jewels that were always matching, your style was forever fancy.

I will remember the funny speech bubble stickers on all our photos and your creativity with scrapbooking and knitting – especially those sexy knitted socks that I wouldn’t dare to be seen in 15 years ago but would do anything to have a pair made from you now.

I will remember the squeals of joy as you cuddled a baby, any baby. I will remember your passion for your beloved Eagles and support for their Benny Boy. You were always keen to give a second chance.

I will remember how you taught me to play chopsticks on the piano which I never quite mastered as good as the other grandkids.

I will remember how your face lit up every time the great grandies came to visit, the littlest ones especially. You had a massive love for little babies, a trait Kel and I have inherited from you and considering between us we’ve produced 10 of your 20 great grandchildren I think we’ve done you proud in that department. You even tried to convince me that my babies just got cuter and cuter the more I had so I definitely needed a sixth! But that is one piece of advice I’m going to ignore.

More recently I will remember your eyes and the way they would open wide and sparkle every time you said “I love you”, even in your final breathless days. I will remember that I loved you fiercely in return, I have loved you all my life.

So today we say goodbye and we love you Nana. Don’t give Pop too much curry up there for getting there first, let him read his paper in peace and once you finish squeezing Jeremy in your biggest Nana-hugs give him another one from all of us. We miss him.

We hope Heaven is ready for you, our bright beautiful spark, Nana xxx