Wednesday, February 26, 2014

2 Wishes

A few weeks ago my little girl was chatting to hubby, I'm not sure what the subject of their conversation was all about but I heard him suggest that maybe you should wish for it to happen. To which she promptly replied in a small voice - but it won't come true, I have two wishes and they didn't come true.

2 Wishes. 2 small wishes; one of which nearly broke my heart in two.    

Hubby turned to her and said what are your two wishes? 

The first was for mummy to have another baby, so she could have a baby sister or brother.

The second was for her best friend to become her sister.

We sat there stumped. Unsure of what possible answer we could give her because really there is no answer. Obviously her best friend becoming her sister was explained away easily, but explaining to a 6 year old why she can't have a baby brother or sister when there is so many added complications. That is a huge topic. Harder still to explain in basic terms that would make her understand and accept as her mind becomes even more aware of her surroundings and life.

Up till now we've always managed to say you took a long time to arrive and you were so perfect we didn't need anymore children.

And that's the truth but what if the real truth of the matter is she would have been even more perfect as a big sister. Yet we aren't giving her that chance - even if we could - easily?

One day when she is old enough I will explain to her the truth about babies and bodies and why it comes naturally to some and others it doesn't. I hope against hope that she never has to deal with the problems and issues we have faced and it breaks my heart that endometriosis is generally hereditary and that her future will run a similar path to mine. I pray that she has more strength than I ever had. 

This conversation has been weighing heavily on my mind these past few weeks and I've had to second guess myself whether we have done the right thing and face my fears of remaining stoic and standing in this position or fighting for more. And do I want more. Because more may also mean less and is that reason enough to not fight? 

The saddest part is although those words from someone so small and kind pierced a hole in my heart and made me yearn for something I have flattened down for years, it made me question whether I really did want to attempt it again. Or am I finally at a place of peace; accepting that our decision was the right one for us and finally taking a step in the right direction of closing the door on that chapter?     

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Enveloping what you read

I have read many books in the past that have affected me in small ways. Sometimes its a deep empathy with the characters, occasionally I don't realise there are tears until words blur on the page. Over the past year I have been doing mini reviews on books I've read and many I've had to refer back to because simply they were neither good nor bad, they just didn't affect me. 

My own story I am diligently writing has affected my moods at times and I'm unsure if it is purely because my characters are based upon real life people. Or perhaps it is due to the general storyline being such a sad one. Particularly of where I am in life with my own family and relationships.

I try not to read too many real life stories - we were made to read an autobiography in high school and being forced to read something makes it really difficult to return to that style of writing. Especially when the book I read didn't really make much impact.

Over the years, between the romance novels - I did manage to fit in April Fools Day; Bryce Courtenays' account of his sons life with HIV. The last 50 pages had tears streaming down my face and I swore I'd never read something of the like again.

I tried Anne Rule's Stranger Beside Me. Mainly because ALL the older girls at work were reading it and I had to be in the cool club. For a confronting book it was brilliant. Not my usual genre but an interesting account of being friends with a monster.     

 So I'm not a stranger to real life stories, however I just don't know what I was thinking when I picked up "The Diary of a Young Girl"  

IMG 7062

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I thought it would take me some time to wade through the pages, but I sat over the weekend and passed my goal to 150 page count in no time. Pressing on I was soon at page 200. Then I turned 250. 

It was there I started to stumble. A pressing grey cloud was shrouding me and the book felt like it weighed a hundred tonne. I was extremely sad. Now don't get me wrong, I am really enjoying the account of Anne Frank's life.

Yet I was disturbed. I wouldn't say that her writing is depressing because she has written it as a teenager would. The great adventure, the fears of the unknown, the fights within her family unit, living in close quarters with other people. The nitpicking. She was a typical teenager and she wrote openly - unlike what we as adults are able to achieve - and that there is my point. She mentioned being scared and anxious and depressed, but she didn't delve into those feelings. I wouldn't have delved into them at 13 or 14 or even 21 for that matter.

Looking at it from a late 30's perspective, my heart was breaking into a million pieces. To think mankind could be so unkind. To consider having all that teenage angst toward your mother and siblings when outside the world was falling apart. To shake her mother and say "life's too short, stop picking on her" to shaking Anne and saying "these feelings are normal and will pass"

In the end - I had to put the book aside, I picked up a chic-lit rural romance thinking that it would set my mind at ease to escape. Only to fall headlong into a book that had a MAJOR road accident on the first pages (talk about a horrific hook) and with my past; probably not the best book for me to continue reading. Of course I had to keep reading to see who, what, where, why… well played author - well played! Add a "surprise" pregnancy at the end and I was done for. A slobbering wreck of a woman.

Those lingering dark feelings from reading Anne Frank, all tied up with prickling anxiety over this so called "easy read" left me feeling drained and I went to sleep last night with flashes of horrific dreams coming at me all angles!

So please - recommend me something easy to read where I'm not being enveloped by the characters or plot or atmosphere.         

Monday, February 24, 2014

Three Years Later…

Last week hubby was watching a brief news report and it mentioned the Earthquakes in NZ and how it had been 3 years already. Usually when the anniversary of a natural disaster passes us by it is met by a secondary stop and a moment to pause and think before rapidly moving on. 

Yet when hubby mentioned this report, I quite literally stopped and remembered. 

Remembering also that it has been three years since my first appointment with my Specialist. I remember it clearly because my appointment was postponed as the Specialist had family in NZ and had spent the entire day trying to make contact with them. 

The reason this particular appointment resonates with me is that I was in a dreadful mind space, I'd been shuttled from Doctor to Specialist, to Hospital back to Specialist, then shunted off to a new Specialist. My head spun as I was caught up in a roller-coaster of medical crap. On top of all this I was still reeling from the reality that my Endometriosis; which previously had been declared "cured" or perhaps "in remission" would be a far more apt term; had returned. I had spent the previous 12 months telling my stupid body that the pain was obviously ALL in my head - that without Endometriosis I should be like any other woman - Pain Free.

I second guessed myself thinking that we were dealing with Secondary Infertility and just as I came to grips with that news - I found the lump.

Its funny I often look back and wonder how I managed to get myself to the point I did, especially when today I am meandering along a path that apart from a few bumps and bruises is, on a whole, relatively cruisey (residual anxiety aside.) Often I wonder if it was really as bad as I thought it was.

Then I started re-reading the initial month of this blog; my own place to record how I was feeling at the time and although my words were not streamlined, my characterisation was inadequate and my plot skewed in places; I saw the enormity of where I once was. Had it just been standard Endometriosis, I'm sure I would have had a moment or two but when the words of possible Malignant lumps and biopsies were bandied about - is it any wonder I fell apart?

I was frightened.

Not only was there the gnawing worry in the back of my mind that it could be worse than it was, the thought of enduring yet another operation (that in itself is frightening enough… especially when it appeared my body was steadily reacting more to each successive operation.)  Confounding those issues were the uncertainty of my relationships, my results and my mental state.

Not to mention I still wasn't guaranteed a baby.

Three years later; I am still battling the after effects of anxiety. Anxiety that has reached out its tentacles and caught other areas in my life. Silly trivial things that have nothing to do with babies and hormones and health - though I'm almost positive the hormones are exacerbating the anxiety. My scars have faded to small white lines, barely visible upon the surface of my belly apart from a slight dimpling. My pain threshold has either grown with time , or I've managed to effectively control it by taking painkillers BEFORE the pain beings. I'm unsure if I still have active Endometriosis, the pain leads me to believe I do but I figure if I can manage my pain and symptoms, then I don't need to put myself under the care of the professionals - my husband and MIL may beg to differ "will you PLEASE sort yourself out THIS year" meant in the nicest possible way. They do care about me. And through it all; I'm still standing - that is a definite positive right? 

Yet I still don't have that baby, though this now attributed to other reasons.  

I've come a long way from the terror I felt back then, facing these appointments. I still have no idea which path is the way forward for me and I know its time to stop sticking my head in the sand and start taking further control but every time I read something about this horrible disease, I sink into the depths of despair because there is NO cure. Everything I've thought I might do in the future, when I am sure I no longer want another baby (more on that topic soon,) are no longer an option. Well they remain options but not optimal options judging from my minimal research. Today though I am okay with that. Three years ago I would have been sobbing when the goal posts were moved an inch - today they are being moved by metres and I'm completely and utterly fine to just roll with the changes and see where my future goes, all the while carrying this invisible disease by my side.                       

Thursday, February 20, 2014

She awakens from a dream…

As I lay my head on my pillow I set forth another almighty sigh (bringing the total count to about 15 since I'd arrived home a few hours earlier) and hubby, by this stage a little over it barely turned to me before saying "What's up now"

"I don't know" I replied in a small voice.

 

And the truth of the matter is I didn't know. I just felt MEH - for want of a better word. It felt too hard to smile. Too hard to cry. Combined with fatigue and constantly yawning in every conversation throughout the day I just couldn't for the life of me feel anything. 

Then I awoke and like that yesterday was all a dream, I was back. My feet were bouncing, I was on time (amazingly!) and I was happy; instead of empty threats if Miss 6 didn't hurry up and put on her shoes AND socks (yes, she had deemed it necessary to come to me the day prior with shoes only stating that we live in QLD where its hot and why should we have to wear socks? To which I replied because the establishment tells you to, go put on your socks and hurry up about it!) Today she put on her  shoes AND socks and complained bitterly about them being uncomfortable so I happily pulled out another pair and told her to bin those as they must have been last years leftovers. The smile on her face, returned with a cheesy grin from me.

And that's all it took.  

Yesterday I felt down in the dumps, I couldn't strike up conversations as they were just too much to bare and I didn't want to sit around in idle chit chat. 

Today my friend mentioned how perky I seemed and I hadn't seemed like myself this past week and half. 

Then it dawned on me. BLOODY PMT! Rather than irrational anger and yelling and general irritability I suffer through for 7 days, this month the irritability still remained but the yelling didn't appear as much, replaced instead by this horrible melancholy feeling. I've said it before but being a chic really does suck!  

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Dear Wednesday… you suck!

I had high hopes for you Wednesday - and you dashed them all away, 
Planning to run and jump and leap; small buildings in gigantic bounds.
I opened my eyes and sighed; and yelled - its only bloody Wednesday.
Watching the clock tick by slowly, I've plummeted to the ground.

Still searching for motivation at lunch before noon. 
It's hump day, get ready for the downhill slide, 
to the weekend not far from here, I'm sure it'll be here soon.
I will survive this Wednesday, if I shall but sit and bide.

*************************************************

Dear Car, you also suck - at poetry!

Speaking of poetry - I need to keep on practicing seeing how I need to submit a limerick or two and a poem with Stanzas on an upcoming assignment! Yeah, who can see the big fat fail coming right up!!! 

Alas Wednesday has been well and truly kicking my butt. A day of study and I've not started yet. Its been a funny sort of day - the type I could have rolled over and kept on sleeping. Late to rise, on the back foot when I realised there were lunches to prepare and no bread in the house. I didn't feel like writing over breakfast (*stamps* foot in temper, how's that chain treating you Car?) and it was much later by the time the TV was switched off to relish in the lingering silence - which incidentally was quickly replaced with my "hurry up & get ready" mumma voice.

We arrived to School on time but then the day has become a stop start pain in the butt - first a search for the perfect cupboard, home and a chat with hubby, a quick Facebook stopover and then a drive BACK to the Island to meet a plumber, I only went because hubby promised me a coffee. And I needed him to carry the new cupboard (which I ended up carrying to the car by myself…!) A lunch date, a declaration of Why bother when I'm already so far behind, and home again home again jiggly jig! 

To more computer wasting, then time out to sit and blog which has turned into a musing post about all that wasted time and nothing to show for it.

Does the poem above count toward creativity? A little perhaps?

I thinking I should make Wednesday my Rhythm day. The day to create non-sensical poems to be blogged. I can only improve right?

Reality dictates I should have given in at the beginning of the day read this book (required for study) perhaps that's how I will spend the next hour. Reading and pretending I can salvage some of this wasted day!  

IMG 7062

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So how's your day treating you?

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

I Get Knocked Down

I'm having one of those weeks. I feel I'm taking a few small steps forward then three gigantic ones back. This morning was a great example of this: 

With only 20mins at breakfast to write; I churned out 468 words, a small reminder I am back in the game! #writechain x 2links!

Study came easily more words written in my index bible in time for a 10:30 coffee break.

A 15mins break spent reading a chapter of my Harry Potter & sipping coffee.

Soon I was back on the computer, not letting Facebook distract me - I took the 1322 word piece I wrote last week and condensed it down to 371 words, it needs a little more tweaking, but I was happy with it. Even better I'm keeping the 1322 words and adding them to my overall storyline (it doesn't really matter I've jumped ahead 10 years does it? And lets not mention that I had planned to end my story a little earlier than that #details!) 

As I was printing these stories, my body started to give out. Enter the three backward steps. Pains started to filter through my abdomen as my belly bloated and I have sat for the past hour curled up with a heat pack and reading more Harry Potter and sweating - gosh its hot today. 

I am tired to the point of fatigue (to the point my hubby asked me if I would be ok to do school pick up + after school activities)

But the worst thing about getting knocked down? I can't do up my pants - I am bloated on par to a woman with a 16 week pregnancy*

Today I have given up, I'm taking my steps this morning as progress and I'm letting this weary soul rest this afternoon. Tomorrow I will be "Getting back up again & fighting" and hopefully, just maybe I will be wearing pants that fit. That or I will be pulling out the yoga pants. Lets just pretend I've been busy working out 'kay?  

*possible over-exageration on the size      

Monday, February 17, 2014

Back to Reality

Last week was one of those weeks and I decided rather than dwell on everything that went wrong, it was time to move on. Once I wrote about how I had been feeling and followed that up with a subsequent blog post - I felt cleared to start the new week and I sat and I wrote every single conceivable thing I had to do this week in my diary. The list was HUGE!

Doing that seemed to be just the kick up the you know what I needed. Yesterday after a delightfully de-stressing day with my 2 BFF's I headed for the shops to get on top of the groceries for the week. I walked in and very nearly walked back out. It was a freaking mad house. I couldn't find the fruit and veg I was after so I decided to adjust my sails and went wandering on through the shop, settling on a 15 min stop at the fruit shop this morning (far easier to deal with).

It didn't deter me there was no bread. That's okay we shall make do with grain bread (my family are fusspots when it comes to grains in their breads… me I'd prefer it but I tend to bow to the masses) I told Miss K that the grain bread was made by Helga and this seemed to placate her woes and I noticed she gobbled up all her toast this morning. What a shame my name isn't Helga! 

This morning I hit the ground running, thongs on (because my toes hurt in running shoes and really they don't go with my denim skirt!) I've done the errands and started tackling the ever growing pile of housework around me (except the floors), I finished up some work and I wrote. 

My friend asked me yesterday if I need to put my story on the back burner while I attempt to churn through the assignments I need to finish. I stopped and wondered and  thought I don't need to stop, if anything the more I write for my story - the more I'm actually flicking the switch on my creative brain. I am hopeful that daily writing will flow down into my assignments and that when I'm faced with one like now "Write a Setting" I should be able to sit and write without panicking and writing a 3 page document (that now needs reducing to 1 page - double spacing!)

 

 

Saturday, February 15, 2014

I am…

I am… Mother

I am… Wife

I am… Student

I am… Teacher

I am… Housecleaner

I am… Worker

I am… Writer 

I am… Stuffed

*****************************************************

Yet it is only mid way through February. This week I dropped the ball (well this whole year I've been dropping the ball - always, always lamenting I would do it tomorrow) but this week in particular hit me. It wasn't so much chasing my tail as just stopping short and not being able to function full stop. Every time I sat and considered all that I had to do laid out before me, I started to feel hemmed in as though to start one thing would just become an avalanche somewhere else.

This week has told me that I can not be 100% at everything in life. This week I tried to be 150% Mumma bear with my little girl who struggled due to a few unforeseen circumstances. There has been tears on both our parts; hers on the drive home from school and at drop off. Mine because my words of comfort to her are breaking my heart - I really want to say what's on my mind. BUT words of that magnitude would send a ripple effect down the line and I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with the fall out. Likely it is ME over-reacting to the situation as there seems to be no affect on the girls wellbeing. If anything it was a lesson for ME to learn as we walk these unknown years together.

In putting so much emphasis on trying to do the right thing for my girl; I have let everything else slide - even to the point we forgot the school spelling test and she got a apparently (according to her) got a dismal result. Can we start over?  

My studies were stilted due to plaguing headaches.

New after school routines to navigate as we introduce another after school activity and balance the homework expectations with a new timetable. 

Work became a series of future discussions; and finding common ground forward and whether we want to take a gigantic leap into the unknown. And a greater understanding for me, that what I do *is* important. So often we undervalue our own worth and I needed to start looking at the bigger picture. I am… many things.

I sort of sucked at being a wife. Hearing his words and taking them at face value when he needed me to just shut up and listen. Sometimes working together is a real bitch. Realising that sometimes we both need to be heard and that is is okay to disagree or misunderstand. And to expect a week like that to wear us both down and spend a quiet night in watching TV and reading rather than a candle lit dinner to celebrate that day about red hearts.  

Lets not even go there with the housework, piles of washing to be folded, mountains still to be washed, floors and general clutter. My routine sucks. Today I clean. Except for the mere under sight that it is now 2pm and I haven't started yet! And the tupperware cupboard is doing my head in. My friend suggested I stand back and throw and shove the door shut, except I tried that and it fell out of the shut doors. Half of the containers are living in my spare washing basket in the living area until I find the mind space to tackle the cupboard of doom.

This week was a wonderful week for me to reflect back on all my issues and realise I am… just me. Its never going to be a perfect fit, but for as long as I can recognise where my past mistakes lie, the future is there to make up for those misdeeds.  

Monday, February 3, 2014

Today's Top 3

I'm feeling a little like Alice today. Like I've fallen down a rabbit hole into the great unknown. 

Unlike Alice my rabbit hole isn't filled with magical wonders and happy smiling cats. Mine is a little claustrophobic with a to-do list whizzing past, that I can't seem to capture and tether them to where I want them to land.  

More than likely this general feeling of malaise can be contributed to the return to School routine after 6 long weeks (that incidentally flew by far to quickly!) I don't adapt to change as well as I used to. Hindsight says I should have given myself time out last week just to be, to find my feet and then hit the ground running this week. But No. I do it ass about. Every. Single. Time. I hit the ground running last week (a short week too - mind you) and I found myself staring at my study books on Wednesday and subsequently tearing my hair out because I could not concentrate. No words would penetrate my brain. I couldn't seem to tie up all the loose ends and make a cohesive pattern to all the technical terms I was seeing.

All those words - they all linked in together - somehow, but I was aghast at how to get my brain off neutral and make sense of them. I felt stupid and of course my head cottoned onto this and beat upon my confidence. So instead of just sitting and writing (which is what I *should* have done) I bandied back and forward and told myself I would never get through the remainder of this course in the next 6 months. Throw in a work day between all that and I felt shattered.

Friday, I looked at it with renewed vigour and found a way that made the words make sense. Suddenly I could feel the confidence seeping back in and a little feeling that all would be awesome this year resurfaced.

Then today happened. Today I awoke and started mentally listing ALL the jobs I needed to do. I wrote the list in my diary and it grew longer and longer by the minute. Meanwhile the study books sat upon the desk screaming for attention. I had every intention to get up and run through the day and my list. I would do the shopping and  errands, clean the house, hit the study books, blog a little and create something in ALL my spare time. Then I realised I wouldn't have any spare time if I attempted to cram it all in. So I took a deep (by now very shaky & rattly) breath and decided I couldn't do it ALL today. I needed to prioritise or else spend my next month endlessly chasing my tail. 

Today I chose three things to focus upon. 

IMG 7001

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today I am surviving the basics. Tomorrow I will hit the ground running and tomorrow I will conquer my epic to-do list.