Mess is mine

When people talk to me about my Husband I tell them he “goes alright”. When they find out that he halves the house & baby duties with me, often times tipping the scale on his side, they are visibly in awe; but I play that one down too – “So he should! I work just as much as he does.”

A fortnight or so ago, someone told me we were “perfect” & likened us to a fairy tale. I didn’t laugh directly in their face but I certainly had an internal chuckle. It did get me thinking though.

The first year or so nearly killed us both. We were two entirely different extremes; Jacob was the easy going good guy who had learnt to lie his way around tough relationship situations just to keep the peace. I was the high strung, emotional crazy wench with serious depression & anxiety issues. So, lies were told, trust issues ensued. Fights were so often sometimes I wonder if we had a break between them. Words were said, things were done. It was ugly. There were so many times we both had the mind to walk away. Was it worth all of this?

And that’s when the fairy tale comes in. There was no evil witch, no fire-breathing dragon. We were our own villains. But we worked so unbelievably hard at us. We talked. We cried. We screamed. We went to therapists. We talked again & again & again. Jake learnt not to lie to cover up his mistakes. I learnt to let go of things & found a proper balance to control my anxiety & depression. We slowly but surely overcame the horrible parts of our tale & suddenly it was clear skies. 

We decided to get married. Then we decided to make a tiny human. Through all of that, I can assure you, it has not been “perfect”. My Husband still makes big mistakes, like packing a bag to leave the night we found out we were pregnant… Or calling me the morning of our wedding to say he wasn’t sure he wanted to get married that day. I love the timing of his meltdowns. Speaking of meltdowns, mine are still quite often – more so over spilling formula & not getting all of the washing done. A “fight” is a big thing for us, almost something to mark on the calendar they are so rare. We know how to talk to each other & we know how to help each other. All thanks to that one year of hell.

What set these thoughts to paper was a song. A song I had heard so many times before but never thought of in any relation to my life – until now. Not supposed to be a love song but the words ring with so much meaning, they sound so much like our fairy tale. Relationships are always messy so find someone to share the mess with.

‘Mess is Mine’ – Vance Joy

Resolutions to Last

A few weeks ago Hubby & I were discussing the upcoming end of the year. Jake believes that New Years Resolutions are silly & that if people need or want to change things they shouldn’t wait for a new year to do it but start working on it straight away. He has a point, of course. I on the other hand LOVE the idea of New Years Resolutions. For me the ticking over to 12:00am - although not ‘celebrated’ (usually pumping out the z’s well & truly before midnight) - brings hope & excitement. The first day of the first month of a brand new year sings opportunity to me. A fresh start. Another round of birthdays, Easter, Christmas & everything in between. Another 365 days with the knowledge & insight gained from all of the years past; but as is true every year that ticks over, I will have an extra 12 months of wisdom & ideas to guide me. An entire years worth of failures, triumphs, heartaches & joys that I did not have at the beginning of any new year before.

In saying all of this 2017 started in a way that I would never have deemed appropriate of being exciting, hopeful or happy. I woke up on the 1^st of January in a 2-star Motel Room with nothing but Milo for breakfast & heading to my in-laws for a get together that would last most of the day. My in-laws aren’t big fans of me, or I them. It was a long day & came out the other side anxious & itching to be home. The support & love I am always surrounded with when I feel downtrodden was on the other end of a 12 hour drive. So instead of waiting until the early hours of the morning to take off, I asked hubby would he very much mind getting his ass in the car - right that instant. He didn’t miss a beat. Packing like we would win a prize if we were faster, we hit the road north at 4:30pm Queensland time.

Through the hours of driving in the rainy darkness I had so much time to think. Between stopping to change shitty nappies & refuel (ourselves & the car) it occurred to me that I still hadn’t made any promises to myself for the year ahead. I contemplated. Lose weight – obviously. Get ahead financially – another obvious one. I went through a few until it occurred to me that each New Years we make resolutions to force ourselves to do the things we hate or that are hard to do. Diet. Exercise. Saving. For me, all of these things come & go. Sometimes we spend our way through the months & other times it’s 2-minute noodles for tea & no new razors. Some days I do all things health & fitness. Other days I eat copious amounts of carbs & sugar & nestle myself into the couch so good I need a hand getting up. So no, this year I couldn’t bring myself to decide I wasn’t allowed to eat badly or splurge on the next Lego sale. I knew none of that shit would stick, it never does. I will happily ebb & flow on these.

Then I wondered what actually made my happy. So many things; good books and movies, bubble baths & tattoos, good music & dancing, gardening & baking, taking photos & writing. Little tiny day to day things. Things I have not let into my life quite enough because I have spent so much time deciding to be pro weight-loss & financial gain. I decided to make sure I filled my days with all of these little joys. I also realised that what made me that absolute happiest was my people. My family & friends. Not just them though. Yeah, they go alright, I love them to absolute bits & they of course light up my life but what really makes me swell with excitement, joy & contentment is seeing them happy.

And so my Twenty Seventeen truly begins – and the decision to make myself & everyone in my life as happy as possible. To simply enjoy. I think this one might stick & might be the resolution that lives on into each year.

Happy New Year to all. I hope your days & months fill with everything you hope for to make an amazing year.

Golf Balls & a Possum

Today I noticed that we had put away more savings than we had planned - a nice surprise with baby not too far away & several appliances that could finally die at any given moment. To celebrate, I asked my Husband if he wanted to do a short-notice date night. It's not a regular thing for us, so Jake was stoked. We both looked forward to it all day & planned to walk the dogs, go out for a nice meal & then see where the wind blew us.

Stress strikes me down most days. I have small panic attacks, work through them as usual & move on. Mostly, I've learnt to deal. Mostly is the operative word. Sometimes things overwhelm and stump me for what can be hours & sometimes days. So when I got home & seen the golf balls, I may have had a slight meltdown.

Our neighbours over the back, you see - are (for lack of being able to filter my absolute rage for these people) a bunch of assheads. From the parents all the way down to the screaming toddler. We have had some serious issues with them that called for police coming to the house and a security camera being bought for the back yard. With the knowledge that we were going out, I turned said security camera on and happily chatting to the dogs, went about checking it was all in position. Well it was, with about six golf balls hanging in our anti-dog-escape fencing directly above it. Of course, paranoia kicked right in - "They've been trying to knock the camera down with golf balls so they can climb over and hurt the dogs or break in!!" I felt sick to the core. I put the dogs inside and went directly to our next door neighbour to ask it maybe their kids had been playing with the balls and put them there. She knew nothing of it and had pretty much the same reaction as me "Those bastards!"
That was the end to date night. I was not leaving the house or my dogs with the knowledge that these people were actively trying to knock the camera down.

Jake came home & I pointed to the balls, I had by then brought inside. He excitedly said "Golf Balls!" with a lopsided goofy grin that I could have decked him for. How could he not be concerned about where they came from & why I was obviously upset!? "I collected them when I took the dogs walking on the golf course." That was his next cheerful little sentence. I actually buckled with relief, causing a flood of "are you ok's" & many apologies after I explained what had been the obvious scenario in my mind. We laughed it off, took the dogs for a walk & got ready to hit up one of our favourite restaurants.

Our night was fun & relaxing. There was Mexican food, discussions about what to ask at prospective day-cares for Charli & then 3 rounds of horrendous bowling (mostly on my part). We headed on home with take away dessert - another of our favourites; Gooey Caramel Cheesecake. Music up loud & keen for pyjamas, we roared onto the highway in my beastly little Yaris, Betty... and there it was, the next source of destruction for my fragile little anti-stress bubble. A Possum. Too late to brake in time and going too fast to swerve on the wet road, with cars coming up behind me & cars on the highway next to me. I had nowhere to go - I tried to judge my car placement on the road to get over the top of the cute little critter. I got his tail. I checked the rear vision mirror to see that he was fine & that another thoughtful human was trying to do the same & managed to swerve over little possum as well. Beyond that though, I don't know of little possums fate.

I immediately clapped a hand over my mouth, the overwhelming nausea set in super quick. Breathing through my nose to try and quell my stirred up Mexican dinner reappearing, I only got half way home before I couldn't hold it down anymore. I managed to get off the road & the door half open before I spewed all over the door frame - then again in the gutter before my dear husband took the keys and got us the rest of the way home. He also cleaned the car spew and let me sob a little about my little possum buddy and what part I might have played in scaring or hurting him. He also got me a spoon & my slice of cheesecake & sat with me while I then pondered if I was okay enough to remove myself from the couch.

I realised tonight at some hazy point during delicious dessert and salty tears that as much as I freaked out, I never wanted to forget. I don't want to forget the hilarity of my short-lived golf ball obsession. I don't want to forget my Husband showing me his daily route to walk the dogs & which houses have dogs that bark & where Nelson & Maggie both always stop to wee. I don't want to forget the high-five & little excitement I got when we decided that we would read the BFG to Charli, even though she is still growing in my belly. I don't want to forget sore fingers from bowling balls and the surprise of getting a strike among all of the gutter-balls. I especially never wanted to forget my Husband, reassuring me with pats on the leg & stories about how fast and smart possums are, cleaning the spew out of my car without even a question or being asked to & taking the next small step for me when I am stuck whimpering on the lounge.

Because its all of the thousands of days like these that will end up being my life & really, what's not to love about that.

Breaking all the rules...

Online dating is something I'd refused to dapple in. Ever. It was a personal rule in my life. I broke this rule after some pressure from outside influences, finally giving in late last year & signing up to a few sites. eHarmony was the only one that lasted more than a week. I signed up for 3 months & made myself a few rules to get me through what I envisaged to be a horrible experience.

One of these rules was that I would not, under any circumstances, respond to an 'icebreaker'. (Basically the same as hitting a 'like' button) If someone was interested enough in me they would talk to me, asking & answering questions, even if prompted from the system.

I held fast to this rule, checking out the profiles of the guys who had sent them & rolling my eyes.

Then, suddenly, this one guy.

I seen the 'icebreaker' notification, sighed, and checked his profile. I read it, and re-read it. I looked through the photos more than once, and then, an internal battle raged. 

I had made a rule, dammit. 

Who was this guy, to come up on my screen & not allow me simply ignore his existence? 

I broke my rule.

Now, I'm not overly Facebook savvy. I post a lot, like & comment on things I see, but stalking is just not my forte. It is also not something I like to do. Another little rule.

How else though, to get to know someone who lives a touch under 1000kms away? 

Talking was fantastic, but he could say & act however he pleased & I would know no different.

Seeing how he interacted with family & friends on a public forum was what I was after.

Facebook stalker extraordinaire I became. Another rule down the drain.

It was the 4th of January when Jacob asked me if I would like him to fly up & take me out to dinner at some point. Naturally, when I seen the message I was completely out of range. It only took me less than 10 minutes to get close enough to my sister's wi-fi to respond, but I can assure you, it was a very long 10 minutes.

There was absolutely no hesitation for me to say yes.

As things turned out, Jacob couldn't make it up here until mid to late March. After a couple of phone calls & daily conversations, my impatience & excitement got the better of me. I booked a flight to Sydney for the weekend.

All week I could barely think of anything else except the upcoming meeting of this man that I had been talking to constantly for what seemed like forever. He made me laugh, shared in my boring day-to-day life & didn't question when I was being a complete dork. In fact, he got it. There was also no judgement when he called me for the first time ever & I continuously slurped on ice-cream & Milo throughout the entire conversation.

The day before I flew out (Valentine's Day), I spent nervously shopping for something nice to wear, getting my hair cut & barely eating a thing thanks to the wonderful nerves coursing through my body. I was entirely convinced I would walk off that plane & be a disappointment. Post retail therapy, I came home to a long-stem rose & a card with the message "Hey Gorgeous" and nothing else. Now my confusion here was that it could only have come from Jacob, he says those exact words to me. A lot. But I had never once given him my address.

Insert sneaky best friend who had asked me for my address earlier that week for "contact details" on a form.

The effort to find out my address, send a rose & note for me to receive on Valentines Day pretty much blew my mind. It also abated all of my fears...

Mostly.

So last Saturday I got on a plane, on my own, for the very first time in my life.

I avoid getting onto any sort of aircraft as much as possible, only swallowing my fear of flying to take my Mum various places. There was no rule as such that I would never fly alone... It was simply something that I would never do unless absolutely necessary, because lets face it, I lose my mind. Flying makes me panic. My anxiety attack is not pretty. I cry silently, I clutch at the hand rests every time the plane so much as rattles. I honestly fear that I will not make it to the other side. Not due to the plane crashing, but simply because the gaping hole in my chest feels as though it will be the end of me.

I managed to put one foot in front of the other & board my flight, hoping & praying I would sit next to someone who I could talk to as a distraction. I sat next to 2 gorgeous young girls from Germany who struggled with their English. Of course.

I also made it to the Sydney airport, hitting the tarmac with so much relief I could feel it in every tip of my body. Disembarking though, only brought with it an entirely different anxiety.

What if this was entirely awkward...

The second I walked into baggage claim, to see Jacob stand up & come towards me, instant excitement, familiarity & a complete sense of warmth took over everything else. He also had a block of chocolate I had jokingly claimed I would need after enduring a flight... that wasn't including the other 2 blocks waiting in the car, either.

I spent an amazing weekend, talking, sharing, laughing & being doted on. Even the odd moments of silence were comfortable & relaxing. I discovered a whole lot more about Jacob, setting my feelings even more alight. It was almost a silly question to ask, 'where to from here?'
We have something very special to pursue.

I remember my Mum once telling me it was not just about how I may feel about someone, it was about how they made me feel about myself.

Now I understand.

Sometimes it's as simple as Milo Cookies...

I was depressed today. I'm not gonna sugar coat it. I've been in & out of depression going on 4 years now. Extreme highs & dangerous lows with constant anxiety nipping at my heels.

This is okay. I don't blog to relieve my problems, I blog when I am inspired. So please, read on.

I just spent a lovely weekend in Pottsville, seeing my nieces, nephews, pregnant sister & newest brother-in-law. Their amazing beach house was filled with big belly laughs, constant chatter & a feeling of life.
On the way there it was freeing to be driving with the windows down, singing at the top of my lungs (partly to drown out the horrific crackle of my very worn-out speakers).
Walking along the beach, greeting passers by & feeling pure happiness just watching the other beach-goers enjoy some simple pleasures - horse-riding, fishing, playing fetch with their dogs. I could have spent eternity on that beach.

It wasn't until I got home, exhausted & sunburt, I crashed out on my couch. Waking up from a dreamless sleep I found my self in the dark, alone with anxiety creeping through the cracks. It's not the first time & I'm sure it won't be the last. I made myself hot drinks, chatted to my friends & got through until I found sleep again.

Suddenly, it was time to get ready for work. But this time my sleep hadn't been without dreams & they were not pleasant.
My dreams have always been pretty intense, keeping me awake through the night for months at a time. They increase my anxiety on a regular basis but since getting my new dream-catcher I haven't been having any issues at all. Whether our old friends the Indians were onto something or simply by the power of my mind, it had worked for a while. Not today. The dreams had me overcome with panic.
Waking up & remembering a dream is one thing, waking up amid one already lost in tears & fear is another.

My panicked crying is a pretty shoddy sight to be had, I'm sure. I can barely breathe, there is no control or level of dignity. I tried to shake it off, get up & move on. No dice. Shamefully I didn't have the willpower or the care. I gave up. I stayed that way until 11:30 in the morning. It took me all those hours to find a way out of bed. I numbly went about doing housework, trying to make some use of myself, hoping I'd feel better.
A load of washing. A load of dishes. Couch. More tears, more fear, complete helplessness. I talked to a friend. I felt no better. Into a hot shower with a bottle of wine I went.

It's hard to admit that I gave in. I never want to feel the low. It's unimaginably horrible. But after all these years I know I am the only one who can fight back. No matter how much support, no matter how many times I fall, I am the only one who can truly help myself. All of you out there who know it will understand. Depression is not something we choose. It's certainly not something we want to feel. It's suffocating, all consuming & sometimes although we fight, it wins us over for a time.

Today it won.
Tonight it will not.

With nothing but a chuppa-chup & half a cup of warm Milo in my belly all day, I knew the depression was starting to slip away when I suddenly felt hungry. Problem: I have just about nothing to eat in my house at the moment. No milk, bread or eggs... no, you know, food. The nearest food was at the servo. Sorry, I refuse to pay triple the price for grocery items nor go out in to the cold for them.

Digging time. Butter. Flour. Sugar... Milo:  Inspiration.

I don't measure when I cook anymore. I'm a 'roundabout that much' kinda lass. Consistency & taste tests are the best. So sorry guys, no recipe for this.

And here you have them... Milo Cookies. My most yummy spur-of-the-moment creation yet.
One of the smallest things to happen in my day yet the biggest combatant of my disabling depression.

So hold on all of you out there who feel it too. You're not alone & you're certainly not doing anything wrong. When it gets too much, the answer can be something as simple as Milo Cookies...