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

  

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